Gemotions

He’d started with the basic greetings, she'd noticed it, but she'd assumed it was a casual foray into the language. Tonight, at the dinner party, it became clear it was more than that. He’d ordered for them at the Italian restaurant, in heavily accented Italian, getting the waiter's attention with a booming "Prego!" Everyone at the table turned to look. A crimson tide rushed up into her cheeks.

Her chest constricted. She wanted to be invisible. Every eye on her, waiting for her reaction. She felt his hand on hers, squeezing, and the gesture felt like a taunt. Her best friend gave her a knowing look, a subtle raising of her eyebrows, which didn't make the burning sensation in her stomach any better. She stared down at her plate of pasta, suddenly unable to meet anyone's gaze.