“So, what’s your favorite show?”

“Ever, or recently?”

“Let’s keep it recent.”

“Then Harry Potter and the Cursed Child.”

“Oh, I read the book—script, whatever—but it was a bit of a letdown.”

“Of course, because it wasn’t supposed to be experienced that way. You need to buy a ticket and go see the actual show. It’ll blow your mind, I promise.”

“Really? I don’t know… I grew up reading Harry Potter… Do you remember the excitement when a new book was about to come out, and the desperation when you finished it and knew there’d be at least another two years to wait before the next one?”

“Yeah, it was the best and the worst.”

“It’s my favorite series ever, and I’ve read it so many times I think I’ve consumed the books beyond repair… so when The Cursed Child came out I was over the moon, but then I read it and… meh!”

Diego nods understandingly. “Nothing will ever top a new Harry Potter book, I agree. But if you approach The Cursed Child as a play and not a book, it’s so much better. You won’t regret watching it.”

I smile. “Okay, maybe I’ll try it…”

Diego’s enthusiasm when he speaks about Broadway is contagious. This guy is turning out like nothing I would’ve expected from just looking at his picture. I thought he was going to be one of those vain, self-absorbed male models who pay more attention to their skin products than I do. But he’s no egomaniac.

“What about you?” Diego asks. “Have you always wanted to work at an advertising agency?”

“I studied marketing and visual design in college, but I ended up in my line of work more by chance. I met my former boss at a recruiting event, and he gave an inspiring speech on what they did at KCU, on how they fostered new talent, and how a college graduate would thrive at their agency. So, I guess I chose a mentor more than a profession. And it worked out pretty well. I love what I do and the people I do it with, so…”

Diego grins. “Now you’re only missing that diamond ring on your finger, and to pop out the standard two point five chubby babies before you turn forty.”

I laugh. “Nailed it.”

I’m not sure if it’s the wine or the fact that we’ve been talking for a while, but I’m getting more relaxed around him. Same as if there was a regular person on the couch next to me, instead of an impossibly sexy hunk from another planet.

We chat a little more and finish the wine before I realize how late it is.

“Sorry,” I say, getting up. My head is dizzier than I’d like. “I have an early morning tomorrow. You?”

“I switched my shifts at the restaurant to lunch, so I’ll be free in the evenings.”

“Perfect. Well, you have your keys, and the Wi-Fi password is on the back of the box.” I point at the modem sitting next to the TV. “The fridge is stocked if you want to eat something; just beware of Blair’s vegetarian crap.”