Danial and Sophie were already seated next to each other at their large, round table, looking perfectly suited to the surroundings. Almost instinctively, Alex raised her phone to snap a photo of the scene: behind them, the Mediterranean stretched on in all directions, cradled by the vertical cliffs dotted with multicolor homes. The sun was just beginning to set, and everything looked slightly dream-like: twinkling lights strung above them, candles flickering in the elaborate centerpiece. Danial had removed his suit jacket, and the blue linen of his shirt seemed pulled from the sea itself, elegant and casual in equal measure. She noticed his grandfather’s watch, ticking away on his wrist.

“Oh, there’s actually only seven of us,” Alex started, turning toward the hostess.

“No,” Paul corrected, pulling out her chair, “there are eight of us tonight.”

“Who’s coming?” Danial asked from across the table, a safe distance away.

“A friend of mine, I told you.” Paul smiled, leaning down to whisper in Alex’s ear. “An incredibly hot friend of mine.”

“Oh, you didn’t need to—”

Before she could finish, a man so beautiful it sucked the air from her chest stepped out onto the terrace, heading toward Paul with open arms.

“Enzo!” Paul exclaimed, bringing him into a full-chested embrace. “How are you?”

“Excellent, excellent.” He turned to Alex, looking at her with piercing green eyes that shimmered against the depth of his tan skin. “Buonasera.” He smiled, bringing the back of her hand to his lips for a gallant kiss.

“Uh, hi,” she replied, too stunned to offer anything better.

As he made his way around to the other side of the table to greet Danial and Sophie, Alex sat back down in her chair next to Paul, leaning into his ear. “What the fuck?” she whispered through gritted teeth. “Did you hire a gigolo?”

“No.” He laughed, turning his face to whisper back, “He’s a friend from study abroad. And he’s single.” He reached across the table to grab a piece of bread, dredging it through the saucer of olive oil placed before him. “And he likes you.”

“How could he possibly like me? He literally just met me.”

“I’ve sent him plenty of photos, and I’ve told him all about your life.” He paused, waving over the waitress. “And that you don’t have a gag reflex.”

“Jesus Christ!” she shouted, much louder than intended. She continued, bringing her voice back to a whisper. “What is wrong with you?”

“I’m joking, obviously. But he did love your—” he quieted himself as Enzo sat down on the other side of Alex, elegantly opening his napkin and placing it on his lap.

“You must be Alexandra.” He smiled, pouring himself a bit of sparkling water from the glass bottle on the table. “I am Enzo.”

“Uh,” she started, losing language at a startling rate as he ran a hand through his wavy brownish-blond hair. “Yes. Well, Alex.”