He chuckled. “We can skip dinner.”
“No!” I held up a finger. “Forget I said anything. Never suggest skipping a meal to me.”
In the restaurant, we took a seat at a small table by the front windows. The delicious smells of spices and roasting meat filled the air. In the back corner, a band set up.
“This is a very traditional Brazilian restaurant,” Rodrigo said. “I hope it suffices.”
I smiled. “I guarantee it will more than suffice. So far, I’ve loved everything I’ve eaten here.”
“Are you sure you weren’t Brazilian in another life? And you have finally come home to your motherland?”
I spread my hands. “Maybe.”
The waiter came, and Rodrigo ordered two caipirinhas, alongside several dishes I didn’t recognize. I listened intently, though, and picked up words here and there.
“Vatapá?” I asked.
“It’s a stew made from peanuts, shrimp. Bread. Amazing.”
“It sounds it.” I folded my hands on the table, suddenly feeling awkward.
How did onedate,exactly? It seemed a stupid question, but my experience in the area wouldn’t even fill one page. The awkward mess I was in high school, I’d avoided boys entirely.
The first two years of college, I’d spent time with a few guys. Dipped my toes in the water. Kissed a couple of them.
None of it felt real, though. And not just because I never developed deep feelings for any of them. All of the interactions just felt so juvenile, so shallow.
But here was someone my own age, who’d asked me on a proper date and followed through. Sure, it was the bare minimum, but Rodrigo made the bare minimum look pretty good—especially in that tight, white T-shirt.
I cleared my throat. Sipped the caipirinha that had just been put in front of me, its tartness coating my tongue.
“Are you from here?” I asked.
“From outside of Rio.” He waved his hand, as if it were unimportant.
“A city? Small town?”
“A town.” He said the name so fast I didn’t catch it. “My family owns a construction company.”
So Juliana got it right. Rodrigo made it sound so humble, though. If his family had the kind of money she’d heard they did, then the construction “company” was probably more of an “empire.”
“Would it be a company I’ve heard of?”
He hesitated. “Perhaps. It is international.” He waved his hand again.
“Sounds like a big deal.”
Rodrigo shrugged. “I’m not interested in construction.”
“What are you interested in?” Propping my elbows on the table, I laced my hands under my chin.
“Journalism. Media.”
My heart danced a little jig. “Just like me.”
“It is the whole reason I left home and came for school,” he said.
“You left your whole family behind?”