“What?” I reached a hand out to her. “Are you okay?”
“Rodrigo Alarçón.” Her eyes widened, and a smile slipped across her face.
“Who?”
She nodded at a young man our age. Tall, he towered half a head over everyone else in the room. As he chatted with a small group, he reached up and raked his fingers through his wavy black hair.
My heart skipped a beat.
“Wow,” I breathed.
But that wasn’t all. He must have felt our eyes on him, because he turned, looked straight at us, and smiled. Two deep set dimples popped in his cheeks.
It was at that very moment I died and went to Heaven.
“Pinch me,” I said.
Juliana did so, right on my arm.
“Ow.” I rubbed the spot. “I was kidding.”
“At least you know you’re not dreaming.” She giggled.
“Do you know him?” I asked.
“No, but he was in one of my classes last semester. He comes from old money. Oil or construction. I’m not sure.”
Rodrigo had already turned away from us. I studied his broad shoulders, a warmth spreading through my veins.
I shook my head. I’d had too much to drink. Once I started ogling dudes, it was time to go home.
I hadn’t come to Brazil to date. I’d come to study and enjoy the culture. Yes, the guys here were adorable and fun, but I couldn’t get distracted.
Juliana’s cell started ringing, and she dug it from her purse. “It’s my mother…” She answered the phone and switched to Brazilian Portuguese.
Meanwhile, I wandered around the gallery a bit more. Even though I’d never “gotten” art, perhaps I could come to appreciate it. Or at least learn something from it.
Juliana caught up with me in front of an abstract painting that looked like two pandas playing croquet while serving ice cream—at least, that was my interpretation. Then again, I was probably ignoring the whole point of the word “abstract.”
“I have to go,” she said. “There’s a leak at the boarding house, and Mom can’t find the right tools.”
“There’s no plumber to fix it?”
She sighed in frustration. “He always takes forever to get there. I’m sorry to cut this short.”
“It’s okay. Want me to come help?”
“No. Stay. Enjoy yourself.” Her gaze drifted over my shoulder. I had a feeling it wasn’t the art she was looking at.
I pursed my lips. “Juliana…”
“Tchau.” She kissed my cheek. “See you later.”
With that, she was out the gallery’s front door.
I twisted my lips. Perhaps I should have left too. It wasn’t too late to catch up with her.
I turned around, looking for a place to leave my wine glass—and bumped right into someone.