Chapter 13
Maya stared at her phone like it had personally betrayed her.
"Italian restaurant?" Too cliché. Or maybe still somehow right?
"Rooftop bar?" Too fancy.
"Movie?" Too boring.
She swiped through endless lists of perfect date ideas, but nothing really screamed Carina. In fact, Maya was starting to realize she had no idea what would scream Carina. The woman was unpredictable. One minute she was effortlessly sophisticated, talking about wine pairings and Italian cuisine. And the next, she was stress cooking and humming an Italian tune in her kitchen. And the next, she was talking about a sex study she conducted. How the hell does one plan a date for someone like that?
Maya groaned, flopping back on her couch. “Why is this so hard?”
Her phone buzzed, pulling her back into focus. She had texted Carina in a moment of desperation:
Maya: Hey, quick question. What’s your ideal first date?
A moment later, Carina’s reply popped up:
Carina: I don’t know, I think I’m pretty easy to please. Surprise me.
Maya’s mouth fell open. Easy to please?! Since when? Surprise me?! That was it?
She sat up, squinting at the message as if staring hard enough would reveal some hidden meaning. Easy to please? What was that supposed to mean? Did it mean she was low-maintenance and would be happy with anything? Absolutely not? This had to be some kind of test? A subtle way of saying, impress me, make it special?
Maya narrowed her eyes.
Carina was messing with her. Again.
“Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?” Maya muttered under her breath.
With newfound determination, she hit Call.
The phone barely rang twice before Carina picked up, her voice dripping with amusement. “Ciao, bella,” she purred. “Trouble making decisions?”
Maya exhaled sharply. “You’re impossible.”
Carina laughed, the sound warm and teasing. “Why? Because I want you to think for yourself?”
“No, because you know I want this date to be perfect, and instead of helping, you’re playing games.”
Carina let out a soft hum, feigning innocence. “Maya, bambina, I told you—I’m easy to please.”
Maya rolled her eyes. “That’s the problem. If that were the truth, I wouldn’t be losing my mind right now.”
Carina chuckled, clearly enjoying Maya’s minor meltdown. “Okay, okay. I’ll help you out. Let’s see…” There was a brief pause before she continued. “I don’t like noisy places. Too many people, too many distractions.”
Maya nodded, mentally taking notes. “Okay, no crowds. Got it.”
“But I don’t like places that are too quiet either,” Carina added. “I need a little bit of life, you know?”
Maya sighed. “So… somewhere in between absolute chaos and total silence? Cool, that really narrows it down.”
Carina ignored her sarcasm. “I like places with character. Something different. Something memorable. And good food, obviously.”
Maya was scribbling down mental notes at lightning speed. “Okay, no pizza—”
“Oh, definitely no pizza on a first date,” Carina agreed. “I’m so over pizza.”
Maya smirked. “Wow, a true Italian, admitting she doesn’t want pizza? Is that even allowed?”
Carina gasped dramatically. “Shh! Don’t say that too loudly. They might revoke my passport.”
Maya chuckled, shaking her head. “Okay, so: no pizza, no big crowds, nothing too quiet, something with character, and good food.” She paused. “I feel like I just got back to square one.”
Carina’s laughter rang through the phone again. “You’re overthinking it.”
Maya groaned. “I have to overthink it! This is our first date—I can’t just take you anywhere!”
There was a moment of silence, then Carina’s voice softened, teasing but sincere. “Maya.”
Maya swallowed, her heart stuttering slightly at the way Carina said her name.
Carina sighed, almost dreamily. “Maybe I just like watching you try.”
Maya’s stomach flipped. “You’re terrible.”
“I know,” Carina replied, smug as ever. “But listen—whatever you plan? I’ll love it.”
And just like that, she hung up.
Maya stared at her phone, still hearing Carina’s voice in her head.
Damn it.
Now she had to make this date perfect.
----------------------------------
Maya wasn’t ready to wave the white flag just yet. She was a planner—always had been. Whether it was training or even something as small as a weekend schedule, she thrived on precision. This? This was no different. If anything, it mattered more.
“I’ll figure it out,” she muttered, gripping her phone like it held the answer to all her problems. She scrolled through her ever-growing list of potential date spots, her eyes darting from one option to the next.
Too trendy.
Too loud.
Too expensive.
Too casual.
Nothing felt right. Nothing felt like Carina.
Maya wanted this to be more than just dinner. She wanted it to be something Carina would remember—not just another date, but their date. The kind you look back on and smile about years later. The kind where every little detail—what you wore, what you ate, what you talked about—somehow burned itself into memory.
Her mind raced as she flipped between restaurant reviews and city maps, trying to piece together the perfect evening.
Then, she saw it.
La Trattoria Romana.
A hidden gem. Small, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, far from the flashy, overcrowded spots tourists flocked to. It had charm—rustic décor, warm lighting, tables close enough to feel intimate but not suffocating. The reviews raved about the handmade pasta and the personal touch of the chef, who apparently made a habit of stopping by tables to chat with guests.
It wasn’t pretentious. It wasn’t overdone. It was real.
Just like Carina would want.
Maya exhaled, fingers flying over her screen as she booked a reservation before she could second-guess herself. Step one—done.
Now, for step two.
Maya texted Carina.
Maya: So, I made a reservation at a place called La Trattoria Romana. Thought we could grab dinner there and maybe go for a short stroll afterward. What do you think?
She hit send before she could rethink it.
Then came the waiting.
Maya stared at her phone, heart thudding as those three little dots danced on the screen. What if she thinks it’s too much? What if she doesn’t like that I picked an Italain restaurant? What if she just doesn’t—
Carina: Sounds good to me, Maya. I’m looking forward to it.
That was it. No teasing. No cryptic response. Just—looking forward to it.
Maya blinked at the screen, reading the message twice. Maybe three times.
Her heart swelled, a slow grin spreading across her face as she let out a deep breath.
This was happening.
--------------------
Carina stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the crisp white blouse she had carefully selected for the evening. The soft fabric skimmed over her figure just right, the top button left undone—not enough to be scandalous, but enough to be noticed. Paired with sleek black jeans and ankle boots.
She turned slightly, assessing herself with a slow, satisfied nod.
"Perfetto."
And she smirked—because she knew exactly what she was doing.
When Maya had nervously texted about the restaurant, Carina had immediately recognized the name. La Trattoria Romana. Oh, she had been there once, one ill-advised time. And it had been enough.
The so-called authentic Italian food? An insult to her entire existence. Overcooked pasta, bland sauces, and a tiramisu so dry it could have doubled as construction material. And they dared to serve wine in thick, clunky water glasses? No.
Had she told Maya that?
Absolutely not.
Instead, she had agreed with zero hesitation, purely for the entertainment value of watching Maya squirm.
It wasn’t cruelty—no, Carina would never be mean. It was curiosity. Maya flustered so easily, turned the most beautiful shade of red at the slightest bit of teasing, and Carina found that... well, completely adorable.
So, she let Maya pick her up.
When Carina stepped outside, Maya was already waiting, leaning against her car in an attempt to look casual. But the way her breath hitched—the way her eyes widened, flicking over Carina’s outfit like she’d forgotten how to function—oh, it was delicious.
Maya opened her mouth, shut it, then tried again. "You look—" Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat, shaking her head as if to reset her entire system. "Wow."
Carina tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Hmm?"
Maya blinked a few times, scrambling to recover. "You look really nice."
Carina smirked, stepping closer. "Grazie, bella." She let the words roll off her tongue slowly, watching Maya shift on her feet. "I thought I’d dress... appropriately."
Maya visibly relaxed, her mouth quirking into a lopsided grin. "You look more than appropriate."
Carina chuckled, sliding into the passenger seat as Maya scrambled to the driver’s side, gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. The drive was filled with light conversation, though every now and then, Maya tapped nervously against the wheel, as if she knew—deep down—that she was about to make a terrible mistake.
Carina leaned back, watching the city lights flicker past, amusement dancing in her eyes.
Oh, this was going to be so much fun.
The second Maya pulled into the parking lot of La Trattoria Romana, she knew.
Knew she had screwed up.
The neon sign flickered ominously, half the letters dead, making it read more like La Tra or a Ro a. A pair of mismatched plastic chairs sat outside, one visibly cracked. And the scent of something burning lingered in the air, like someone had recently set a kitchen on fire and just decided to roll with it.
Maya gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline.
She snuck a glance at Carina, who was already surveying the scene with an expression so unreadable, so perfectly neutral, that it was terrifying.
Maya swallowed hard and forced a very unconvincing smile. "Sooo, um... this place looks... interesting, huh?"
Carina turned to her, tilting her head slightly. "Sì, molto interessante."
Maya let out a nervous laugh. "You know... we could go somewhere else. I mean, I just…, so if you’re not feeling it—"
Carina raised a perfectly shaped brow. "But you picked it, no? That means you thought it was good, sì?"
Maya was sweating. "Well, yeah, but—"
Carina crossed her legs, completely composed. "I think we should stay."
Maya blinked. "You... do?"
Carina smirked. "Of course. After all, this is a test, sì?"
Maya stiffened. "Test?"
Carina’s lips curved just enough to make Maya's entire world tilt. "To see how well you know me. To see how much effort you put into our first date." She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping into something softer, more teasing. "And to see how much you think I am worth."
Maya’s soul left her body.
Panic clawed up her throat. Her mind raced through every possible way to undo this. A distraction? A fake emergency? A spontaneous blackout?
Maya opened her mouth. "I, um... you know, I totally checked the reviews, and, uh, I might’ve misread them, haha, so if you wanna leave—"
Carina tapped her chin, as if deep in thought. "Hmm. No."
Maya actually considered fleeing.
"Come on," Carina said, unbuckling her seatbelt with a graceful ease Maya envied. "I want to see what kind of experience you have planned for me."
Maya squeezed her eyes shut for a brief second, inhaling deeply, before forcing a grin so strained it could have been classified as a medical emergency.
"Right," she muttered. "Experience."
Carina patted her thigh—patted her thigh—before stepping out of the car, a teasing glint in her eyes.
Maya let out a long groan, then dragged herself out after her.
This was not going to go well.
--------------------
Maya braced herself as they stepped into La Trattoria Romana. The inside wasn’t much better than the outside. Dim lighting that was less romantic ambiance and more we haven’t paid the electricity bill. Fake ivy leaves covered the walls in a half-hearted attempt at making the place feel Italian, and there was a faint yet distinct smell of deep fryer oil that should’ve been changed three weeks ago.
Oh, this is bad. This is so bad.
Maya stole a glance at Carina, who was still unreadable. The woman was way too good at keeping a straight face. Either she was internally screaming, or she was truly the most patient woman alive.
A moment later, a man in a tight white button-up appeared. The first two buttons were undone, revealing way too much chest hair for anyone’s comfort. His gelled-back hair looked wet, and his mustache twitched in what Maya assumed was meant to be a charming smile but landed somewhere between greasy salesman and restraining order waiting to happen.
"Buonasera, bellissime signorine," the man greeted in an exaggerated Italian accent, his eyes already locked onto Carina.
Maya immediately didn’t like him.
Carina, to Maya’s complete horror, smiled politely. "Buonasera."
The waiter—Marco, according to his name tag—lit up at that. "Ah! Italiana!" he said, his grin widening. "Una donna così bella e raffinata, non se ne vedono molte da queste parti."
Maya blinked. Okay, she only understood a few words in there—bella meant beautiful, and Italiana was obvious. But the way this guy was saying it? She did not like it.
Carina, ever the class act, only nodded, offering a small, noncommittal smile.
Marco, however, took that as an invitation.
He leaned in slightly—too far into Carina's personal space—and continued in Italian. "Ah, una donna come te merita solo il meglio. E io sono molto... disponibile.”
Maya didn't need to be fluent to feel what he was implying.
Her jaw clenched. She looked at Carina, expecting some sign of discomfort, maybe even a slight shift in her stance.
But Carina? She was completely calm.
In fact…
Maya’s eyes narrowed.
Carina was enjoying this.
Not Marco, obviously. But the fact that Maya was losing her mind next to her? Oh, she was loving every second of it.
Maya exhaled sharply, clenching her fists. "Scusi," she said through gritted teeth. "Maybe we can just sit down?"
Marco barely spared Maya a glance, as if she was an annoying background character in his little Carina Love Story.
"Certo, certo! Right this way, bellissime," Marco purred, leading them toward a table near the back.
Carina followed without a word, and Maya dragged her feet behind her, already dreading how the rest of the evening was going to go.
Maya had prepared herself for the restaurant to be bad, but she hadn’t expected it to be a full-blown catastrophe.
The moment they sat down, Marco materialized again, handing Carina a menu with an oily smirk and completely ignoring Maya in the process.
"Per te, bellissima," he purred, sliding the laminated menu in front of Carina like he was offering her a diamond necklace instead of a list of probably frozen pasta dishes.
Maya? Oh, Maya didn’t exist.
It was as if she was a ghost haunting this terrible date she had planned for herself.
Carina, on the other hand, was thriving. She propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm, and looked at Marco with an amused glint in her eyes.
"Grazie," she said smoothly, flipping open the menu.
Maya glared at her.
Carina knew. She knew Maya was dying inside, and she was eating it up.
Marco, still ignoring Maya, leaned in just a little too close to Carina. "Se hai bisogno di aiuto con il menu, sono a tua completa disposizione."
Maya didn’t need to know Italian to realize what he was offering to Carina.
"Yeah, I think we're good on the menu," Maya snapped.
Marco finally acknowledged her existence. He raised a single eyebrow, looking at her like she was an annoying little sibling intruding on his date. "Ah, certo…" He then turned right back to Carina. "Would you like something special, bella?"
Maya nearly broke the table in half with how hard she clenched her fist.
Carina?
She smiled.
Maya inhaled sharply. This woman is pure evil.
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Then the food came.
Well. Food was a strong word.
The lasagna Carina ordered looked like it had been microwaved to death, its edges hard and crusty, while the middle sank in like it had given up on life. The pizza Maya ordered looked like something out of a college dorm room disaster—the cheese had slid off to one side, revealing a sad, undercooked layer of tomato sauce.
Carina stared at the lasagna. Then at Maya. Then at Maya`s pizza.
Maya was fully sweating.
"Well," Maya started, clearing her throat, "this is… um… authentic?"
Carina exhaled through her nose. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pizza that deflated before."
Maya pressed her lips together. "I’m sure it tastes… fine?"
Carina, still holding in her laughter, picked up her fork, poked Maya`s pizza, and—
Crunch.
Maya winced.
Carina’s eyebrow shot up. "Why did that sound like a cracker?"
Maya dropped her head in her hands. "I swear I didn't know it was this bad."
Carina leaned in, her voice smug. "Sei adorabile quando sei nervosa."
Maya lifted her head. "That sounds like an insult."
Carina grinned. "Oh, no. Just a very, very true statement."
Maya groaned and reached for her wine—because surely that had to be decent, right? Wrong.
The moment she took a sip, she coughed violently. It tasted like someone had fermented old grapes in a gym sock.
Carina was shaking with silent laughter.
Maya put the glass down, defeated. "I swear to God, I was trying."
Carina reached over, patted Maya’s hand, and finally took pity on her. "I know, Maya. And for that, I appreciate you."
Maya peeked up. "Really?"
Carina smirked. "No. But it’s entertaining."
Maya let out a groan, pressing her forehead to the table.
This was, without a doubt, the worst date of her life.
Maya was still recovering from the disaster of a meal when Marco slithered his way back to their table. His sleazy grin was firmly in place, as if he hadn’t just served them the worst Italian food ever.
"Ah, bellissima," he crooned, completely ignoring Maya—again. "How was your meal? I do hope everything was to your satisfaction."
Carina, however, sat back in her chair with a slow, calculated smile. The kind that made Maya both intrigued and terrified at the same time.
"Oh, Marco," she sighed dramatically, tracing the rim of her wine glass with a manicured finger. "È stata un'esperienza davvero... unica."
Marco’s face lit up. "Ah, perfetto! I knew a woman like you would appreciate the finest cuisine."
Maya stared at Carina in pure horror. She wasn’t—she couldn’t be—serious...
Then Carina tilted her head slightly and continued, her voice dripping with condescension. "Il tuo chef è un criminale, e la pizza che hai servito alla mia fidanzata è stata un insulto a tutta la mia esistenza."
(Your chef is a criminal, and the pizza you served my girlfriend was an insult to my entire existence.)
Marco blinked. "Scusa?"
Carina didn’t stop. In fact, she leaned in closer, her elbows on the table, her voice lowering just enough to sound dangerous.
"Hai mai visto una pizza che sembra un disco da hockey? No? Beh, ora puoi vantarti di averne servita una."
(Have you ever seen a pizza that looks like a hockey puck? No? Well, now you can brag about having served one.)
Maya slammed a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.
Marco, now visibly sweating, tried to compose himself. "Ah, well, perhaps I can offer you—"
Carina cut him off with a perfectly raised hand. "Oh no, no voglio nulla da un uomo che ha il coraggio di guardarmi negli occhi dopo avermi servito questo."
(Oh no, I want nothing from a man who has the audacity to look me in the eyes after serving me this.)
Marco’s entire soul seemed to leave his body.
Maya swore she saw his lip tremble.
Carina, completely unfazed, reached into her bag, pulled out a single dollar bill, and placed it on the table with an exaggerated flourish.
"Una mancia per il trauma."
(A tip for the trauma.)
Marco just stood there.
Maya, absolutely living for this, finally leaned in. "Hey, Marco?"
He turned to her, still dazed.
Maya smiled sweetly. "Just so you know… she’s an actual Italian."
Marco visibly flinched.
Carina stood gracefully, grabbing her bag with a dramatic little swing. "Shall we, bambina?" she asked Maya, completely unbothered.
Maya had never been more attracted to anyone in her entire life.
As they strolled out of the disaster zone of a restaurant, leaving a stunned Marco in their wake, Maya shook her head in awe. "That was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed."
Carina smirked. "Oh, Ma-ya, you haven’t seen anything yet."
Maya groaned as soon as they stepped out into the cool night air. "You knew this place was awful, didn’t you?"
Carina smirked, swinging her purse over her shoulder. "Ovviamente."
(Obviously.)
Maya gaped at her. "Then why the hell didn’t you stop me?!"
Carina stopped on the sidewalk, turned to her, and grinned so smugly that Maya almost wanted to shake her. "Because I wanted to see what you would do, obviously."
Maya groaned louder, throwing her head back dramatically. "You set me up! I was so excited to impress you, and instead, I dragged you into a literal nightmare of bad food, bad wine, and that guy." She gestured back toward the restaurant where Marco was probably still standing in shock.
Carina chuckled, clearly very pleased with herself. "To be fair, Maya, I knew you thought you were taking me to a good restaurant."
Maya froze. "Wait… what?"
Carina's eyes sparkled with amusement. "There’s another restaurant. A really good one. Almost the same name. That’s the place you thought you picked."
Maya’s jaw dropped. "Are you kidding me?"
Carina just lifted a perfectly manicured eyebrow.
Maya groaned for the third time and dragged a hand down her face. "I can’t believe this. I actually thought I was taking you somewhere nice! And instead—ugh!"
Carina laughed, clearly enjoying every second of Maya’s suffering. "It was adorable watching how desperate you were to change restaurants."
Maya narrowed her eyes. "You enjoyed that, didn’t you?"
Carina grinned. "Moltissimo."
Maya shook her head, exasperated but also… god, she was into her. "You’re unbelievable."
Carina shrugged, linking her arm through Maya’s as they started walking. "True. But you still owe me dinner, Maya."
Maya sighed dramatically and was still reeling from the fact that she had completely screwed up their first dinner plans when Carina casually suggested, “Since you still owe me a real meal, why don’t we go to the restaurant you meant to take me to?”
Maya blinked. “Wait, really? Like… right now?”
Carina gave her an amused look. “Well, unless you’d rather go back and let Marco stare at me some more?”
Maya visibly shuddered. “God, no.”
So, back into Maya`s car they went, and within ten minutes, they were pulling up to a much more elegant, warmly lit Italian restaurant—the right restaurant. La Trattoria Romantica. Maya sighed in relief just looking at it.
Carina smirked as they stepped inside. “See, this is much better.”
Maya shot her a look. “Yeah, yeah, rub it in.”
The hostess greeted them warmly (and respectfully, unlike Marco the Creep) and led them to a cozy, candlelit table near a window. The atmosphere was worlds apart from the disaster of the previous restaurant—soft music, the rich aroma of real Italian food, and actual high-quality wine being poured at surrounding tables.
Maya, determined to make up for earlier, picked up the wine list and tried to be sophisticated. “So, uh, what do you usually drink?”
Carina chuckled, leaning on her hand. “You’re continuing to be adorable when you try to impress me.”
Maya groaned. “I’m not trying to impress you.”
Carina tilted her head. “So you just randomly picked a restaurant you thought was fancy and are now asking me my wine preferences purely out of curiosity?”
Maya opened her mouth. Closed it. Then sighed. “Fine. Maybe I am trying to impress you. Just a little.”
Carina beamed, looking far too pleased with herself. “Va bene, then let me help you.” She smoothly pointed at a bottle of white on the list. “That one.”
Maya ordered it without argument, because god help her, she was already in deep enough trouble for one night.
Once their drinks arrived, Maya raised her glass. “To finally getting this date right.”
Carina’s lips curved up as she clinked her glass against Maya’s. “To seeing you squirm all evening.”
Maya groaned. “Seriously?”
Carina chuckled, taking a sip of her wine. “Si, amore. Seriamente.”
Maya paused, hearing that one word. Amore. It was probably nothing—just something Carina said naturally in Italian. But still, it made Maya’s heart do a very stupid little flip.
Then their food arrived, and Maya almost moaned at the sight of the fresh, perfectly plated pasta.
Carina raised a brow. “You haven’t even tasted it yet.”
Maya twirled a forkful of pasta and took a bite. Her eyes actually rolled back. “Oh my god.”
Carina laughed softly, sipping her wine. “Better than the mystery lasagna?”
Maya nodded aggressively, mouth full. “So much better.”
They ate, drank, and fell into easy conversation. Maya felt lighter—probably a mix of good food, good wine, and the fact that Carina had finally stopped torturing her for the earlier disaster.
At one point, Maya leaned back in her chair, watching Carina animatedly talk about some medical study she’d read. The candlelight flickered over her face, catching the warmth in her brown eyes, the curve of her lips, the way she gestured with her hands.
Maya was already feeling too much after watching Carina exist under candlelight, but things took a sharp turn for the worse when dessert arrived.
Tiramisu.
Maya had not mentally prepared for this.
Carina, on the other hand, clearly had.
As soon as the waitress placed the elegantly plated dessert between them, Carina picked up her spoon, sliding it through the soft layers of espresso-soaked goodness with an unbearable amount of grace. Then, without breaking eye contact with Maya, she took a slow, deliberate bite.
Maya swallowed air.
Carina hummed, closing her eyes briefly, savoring the taste in a way that was absolutely unnecessary for a casual dinner setting. "Mmm... Perfetto."
Maya, gripping her spoon like a lifeline, felt a bead of sweat roll down her back. "You, uh… you really like tiramisu, huh?"
Carina’s lips curled in a very knowing smile as she opened her eyes. "Oh, si. I love it.” She took another spoonful, but this time, she dragged her tongue over the spoon before pulling it between her lips.
Maya’s brain short-circuited. That’s illegal. That has to be illegal.
Carina tilted her head, watching her with a glint of amusement. “Are you not eating? I thought you wanted dessert, too.”
Maya jolted and forced herself to scoop up a bite. She shoved it into her mouth—too much, too fast—and immediately started coughing as she nearly choked on the cocoa powder.
Carina giggled, leaning forward. “Oh, poverina,” she purred. (Oh, poor thing.) She reached out, brushing some cocoa powder off the corner of Maya’s mouth with her thumb. Then, in an absolutely unfair move, she licked it off her own finger.
Maya nearly dropped her spoon.
“Are you trying to kill me?” she wheezed.
Carina smirked. “If I were, amore, you’d already be dead.”
Maya groaned. “Oh my god.”
Carina just laughed and took another bite of tiramisu, making a show of licking the spoon again, clearly enjoying every moment of Maya’s suffering.
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Maya gripped the steering wheel too tightly as she pulled into Carina’s driveway. The entire ride back had been an exercise in sheer willpower—not to crash the car while replaying every single second of Carina’s tiramisu performance in her head.
Now, as she put the car in park, Maya felt the stupid nervousness creep in again. How do I say goodbye? A hug? A kiss?
Carina, meanwhile, unbuckled her seatbelt with effortless grace, turning slightly in her seat to face Maya.
Maya swallowed hard. Say something.
“Well, uh… thanks for-,” she tried, forcing a lopsided smile.
Carina chuckled softly, tilting her head. “Prego, Maya.”
Silence stretched between them, and Maya fidgeted with her keys. Was she supposed to open Carina`s door? Was Carina waiting for something?
Then, suddenly, Carina leaned in.
Maya’s breath hitched, her eyes widening in surprise. Her brain barely had time to register what was happening before Carina’s lips brushed against hers. Soft. Slow. Intentional.
Maya froze for half a second.
Then, she let herself melt.
Carina’s lips moved against hers, testing, teasing—like she was savoring the moment, tasting her. Maya barely had time to process how warm and utterly perfect the kiss was before Carina deepened it.
By the time Carina finally pulled back, Maya was left gasping for air, eyes wide, her mind scrambling to put together anything that made sense.
But all that came out was a breathless, “Oh.”
Carina’s lips curved into a sly smile, clearly pleased with herself. “Buonanotte, Maya,” she murmured, voice smooth, almost teasing.
With that, she slid out of the car, walking back to her house like she hadn’t just shattered Maya’s world in the most deliciously impossible way.
Maya sat there, heart pounding, staring after her like she was watching something precious slip through her fingers.
After a moment, she snapped out of her daze. She exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling to the surface. Without thinking, she slammed her forehead against the steering wheel, the dull thud of it grounding her to reality.
Then, in a flurry of motion, Maya scrambled out of the car, her foot catching on a flowerpot as she nearly tripped over it.
“Carina!” she called out, voice a mix of desperation and confusion.
She hurried toward her, her mind racing with thoughts of all the things she wanted to ask. Would there be a date two? -
Carina paused mid-step, her back still turned to Maya as she felt the air shift, the sound of her name breaking through the quiet night.
“Yes, bambina?” Her voice was soft, but there was a knowing tone that made Maya’s heart race even faster. Slowly, Carina turned, her eyes catching Maya’s in the dim light.
Maya swallowed, suddenly feeling like her legs were made of jelly. She was barely holding herself together, but she couldn’t stop herself now.
“Will there... be a date two?” Maya asked, her voice a little shakier than she intended.
Carina’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. She took a step closer.
“Mmm...” Carina hummed thoughtfully, her gaze never leaving Maya’s. “What do you think?”
Maya’s heart skipped, her stomach a twisted ball of nervous energy. “I think... I’d like there to be,” she replied, trying to steady her breath, but the words came out softer than she’d hoped.
Carina raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the effect she had on Maya. She took another step closer, until they were inches apart. Maya could feel the heat from Carina’s body.
“And why’s that?” Carina asked, voice low and teasing.
Maya fought to keep her composure, but she could feel herself unraveling under Carina’s gaze, under the playful, almost predatory way she was toying with her.
“Because,” Maya started, swallowing hard, “there’s... More than just... that.” She gestured vaguely, clearly still reeling from the intensity of their kiss.
Carina’s eyes glinted with amusement. “More than just that?” She let out a small laugh, a sound that was both light and dangerous. She stepped even closer now, her breath warm against Maya’s skin. “You mean the kiss? Or something else?”
Maya’s pulse hammered in her throat. She wanted to say something smart, something that would show she was more than just a fumbling mess of emotions. But all that came out was a breathless, “Both.”
Carina smiled in that way that made everything inside Maya flip. “I like how you think,” she said, her voice a soft purr. “But I think we need to do more than just talk about it, don’t you?”
Maya’s heart skipped a beat as Carina’s fingers brushed gently against her arm, sending a surge of heat through her. She was still toying with Maya.
“You know, I originally had other plans for our first date,” Maya blurted out, unable to stop herself, her mind trying to latch onto something more solid. “I wanted to go to the beach. But... we didn’t exactly get to that.”
Carina’s smile turned playful again. “Oh, we’ll get to it, don’t worry. We just... needed a little warm-up.” She winked, turning to walk backwards toward her door, her voice carrying over her shoulder. “The beach can wait. Date two, though...” She stopped, looking over her shoulder with a glint in her eye. “You might want to prepare for a continuation of the last weekend.”
Maya stood frozen for a moment, stunned by Carina’s confidence and watching her slip inside her house with a final, teasing glance.
And as Maya finally turned to walk back to her car, her mind raced.
Date two. She was having sex with Carina again. She was already counting down the days.