𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜. - 𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚐

mr. and mrs. samberg.

"You're not wearing that, are you?" Teri never liked my style.

"Yeah?" I realize my shoulders are tense. "I just don't want to make this a big deal, if I get all dressed up, he'll think I'm desperate."

"But if you go dressed up like that he'll think you're homeless."

"Ouch."

She was never good at advising. I can't see anything wrong about white jeans and a black shirt.

"You should wear that dress!" Teri suggests.

No way.

"That dress is for special events, not for ordinary lunch." I'm almost giving this up.

"Don't you tell me this is an ordinary lunch, you were invited by your future husband to a romantic lunch and you..."

"Fuck off Teri."

"Okay. I warned ya." She says, heading to the kitchen.

After some seconds by myself in the living room, I give in. Shit.

. . .

It is pretty hard to drive on hills, so I just take them out and throw them in the back seat. The studio is not as crowded as yesterday, but there are people doing lots of thing at once. I look for a place to park and I see Andy waiting outside. To be easier, I park my car by his side.

"Efficient." He says, leaning forward to see me inside the car.

I open the door and step out. For a second, I regret wearing this dress. Is a navy blue dress with spaghetti straps, no big deal, but you can see half of my thigh. Kinda revealing for me.

"You look pretty, but I didn't know we were going to lunch barefooted."

Fuck. I laugh to hide the embarrassment.

"I should tell you, it's pretty hard to drive on heels."

"Wow, I'm feeling like a homeless compared to you."

"That's what she said when I..." I shouldn't have started this sentence.

"When you?"

I open the back door to take the thrown high heels in the back seat. I lean against my car to put the heels on and he is just looking at me with that face. Oh, that face.

He takes me to an Italian restaurant near the studio. It is a cozy place, but a little crowded. The receptionist welcomes us sincerely and asks us to follow her. The place is spacious, with a unique style and visible brick walls. The receptionist takes us to a large black staircase.
"Your table is on the balcony, with a card with Mr. Samberg's name."
"Thank you." I tell her, already climbing the stairs.

The top floor is practically empty, only a few people that seem important are sitting. We walk to the balcony and a black table for two is waiting for us. The sign says "Mr. and Ms. Samberg".
"Mr. and Ms. Samberg?" I say, almost laughing. He looks embarrassed.
"My bad." He looks embarrassed, so I try to soften the situation.
"That's okay, I kinda like it." Now I was embarrassed.

"Shall we sit?" He says, moving the chair for me.

I hope this is not a date, because I'm getting weird date vibes. Not that I don't want to be with him, but we never got to this stage: where things actually evolve. The day is sunny, but the awning over us makes a great shade. See the people walking underneath the building and the cars cruising the streets is a great way to stay in silence without it being uncomfortable: we pretend that we are distracted. But someone needs to say something.

"You reminded him." I Say, still looking at the street.

"Of course I remembered. You used to love my mom's mac 'n cheese." he says supporting his arms on the table.

"I still like."

Silence.

"So how's Berkeley?" he asks, but not that curious.

"Everything is fine there, they upgraded that playground we used to go but they are demolishing our old school."

"Why?"

"Apparently, it's turning into a private school."

"That sucks. We had such great moments at Berkeley High."

"Yeah, I know."

We laugh. I missed talking to him. I missed the way I used to feel when I was around him, everything was light and funny. Find us fighting was pretty rare because we always shared the same mindset.

"You're still in touch with her?" For some seconds, he looks confused. "Cassidy." I remind him.

"Oh... actually no. We broke up."

"Oh." I find myself speechless.

"Don't worry, it was a long time."

"Long time?" He never told me that.

"Some years ago." He looks worried, even though he shouldn't be.

"Years? Why you never told me then?"

"Because we lost contact."

That's true. We slowly stopped texting when he moved to Santa Cruz with Akiva, his friend. The last time we talked was when he told me he was heading to NY. I tried calling him, but he got busy with his east coast life. He continues. "She came with me to New York, we lived together for a while, but she met someone else."

"I'm really sorry about that. You always looked perfect for each other since high school." I would have looked better with you.

"Let's not talk about the past, shall we?"