Brazilian Lounge

eleven.

Chapter eleven.

After singing to myself whilst flipping pancakes in my briefs, I got an email from an old friend. We were going to meet up for lunch. Before taking possibly the best shower of my entire life, I filled my stomach with syrupy pancake goodness.

I didn't even feel the slightest bit lonely that morning, I felt independent and oddly more confident for some reason.

Stefano took me to a cosy café. He was in the area for a campaign ad he was going to star in. We were best friends since early childhood but drifted apart after high school. He got new friends, a different crowd. I was mad at first but Pia helped me realise that sometimes the worst thing in life is when they carry on and you can't do anything about it, but that change is also necessary and whatever needs to happen would have, things that belong have a way of finding their way to wherever whenever.

He asked me what I've been doing, how I've been and other typical 'catch up' questions. It was like we were strangers, but we really were. I didn't know anything deep about him, I didn't know who he was anymore. He was just a name and a face.

"Hey, I know we haven't been close at all for all these years, but I actually kinda miss you, A," he said. I raised one of my eyebrows at him, feeling odd that he'd say that. "Look," he sighed, then paused. Leaning back in his seat, he said "never mind. Any lucky ladies dating you?"

I took my own time in answering him. "Hmm, not exactly. I have interests though," I stated slowly.

"Do tell," I felt like a teenage girl about to talk about my feelings. I gave him a puzzled look, as if to ask 'why?'. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with telling me about your romantic interests, A," he sounded like a programmed robot.

"Please, Aftonio," I corrected him, not particularly enjoying the nickname he gave me. "Remember Pia?" He took a moment to think about who Pia could have been.

"Oh fuck! Yeah...Pia," he smirked at his own thoughts. "What's she doing now?"

"Uh, she's a model," Stefano's eyes widened and I grinned at him, remembering exactly how he reacts to women he finds aesthetically pleasing.

"I'm jealous," he shot me with a goofy smirk, causing his one eye to half close.

"You're an actor, you can pull any other model!" I laughed and he joined me.

Shrugging, he spoke again, "you said 'interests'," my smile faded as I thought about Ms America.

Her green eyes, her face, her stone collection, her aura, her hair...her brown hair...her familiar brown hair...her familiar brown hair that I've seen...that I've seen...the previous day?

"Aftonio?" I was snapped out of my train of thought.

"Oh!" I blurted, "yeah, just...just a couple other, uh, models and such, you know?" I faked a chuckle. He smirked, pleased with me.

"Well, I'm thinking of proposing soon," I processed it. Even though I hadn't seen him in so long, he still didn't seem like the type to settle down yet.

"That's...great, man! Who's the lady who hit the jackpot?" I regretted the words as soon as they rolled off my tongue. He laughed.

"Well, Aftonio, his name is Andre,"