Chapter 13 Sophia
A m I becoming hard of hearing? Have I somehow entered the twilight zone? There’s no way Lorenzo Mancini just told me to spend the summer with him.
My shoulders tighten as I lift my chin a bit. “Excuse me?”
He sits up straighter in his chair. “If you want to write a good piece, spend the summer with me. That’s the only way you’ll be able to get anything worthwhile. Sitting in these stupid interviews won’t make any difference.”
This is crazy. This man has officially lost his damn mind. I’m barely okay with being here with him, what makes him think this is a good idea?
It may be crazy enough to work…
No. It won’t.
“Lorenzo, this is the stupidest thing you’ve said since I met you,” I say flatly.
He shakes his head adamantly. “Think about it. You’ll get to see my day-to-day, what I do during and outside work. My travels, what I get up to. It’s a good idea.” He waves his hand at my journal. “You’ll get plenty of stuff, and I don’t have to sit in these interviews that, honestly, are quite boring.”
I take a sip of my coffee, hoping to soothe my suddenly dry throat. Of course, the coffee doesn’t help, and I wish I had some water near me instead.
Those are some good points. I do want to write a unique, one-of-a-kind piece. Being his shadow is the perfect way to see more behind the scenes. I’ll be able to get something good out of it. Because it doesn’t matter how many questions I ask, he’s not going to be honest with me. That feeling in my gut is telling me to do it. But the logical part of me is shouting at me.
Don’t do it!
Stupidest idea ever!
Walk away right now!
“If we’re doing this…” He perks up, and I quickly point a finger at him. “Don’t get your hopes up, I’m not saying I am. But if I accept, we definitely need some ground rules. I’m done playing games with you.”
“You can come up with whatever ground rules you need to make yourself feel comfortable,” he says, his tone sincere. “Come on, Blue,” he urges. “Be a part of my world for the summer. It could be fun,” he singsongs, extending his hand so I can shake it in agreement. “Deal?”
I look at his extended hand, and before I know it, my hand takes a life of its own to shake his. “Deal,” I reply, unconvinced.
He shakes his head with a grin. “Look at that. You made your first deal, the correct way.”
Why do I have the feeling I just made a deal with the devil?
And worse, why am I looking forward to it?
I think I made a mistake.
No. I most definitely made a mistake by telling the girls the crazy agreement I entered with Lorenzo Mancini. As soon as we shook on what I’m convinced is the stupidest deal I’ve ever made, I left the coffee shop with him promising he was going to reach out. I’m terrified, and I am almost hoping he regrets it and decides to do the interviews instead. I called the girls to have an emergency girls’ meeting, and now here I am in front of a stunned Aria and Isabella.
“You did what?!” Isabella exclaims.
Aria remains quiet, looking at me dumbfounded. I’ve never seen her at a loss for words. It’s actually kind of unsettling.
I groan, hiding my face with my hands in embarrassment. “Aria, say something.”
Her hazel eyes widen, her mouth barely open. “I have no words,” she mutters.
“I have something to say,” Isabella starts.
Oh, here we go.
I nod, grabbing my glass of wine from the coffee table and taking a hefty sip, getting ready for her speech.
Isabella swirls her glass of wine, letting the red liquid move around as we both stare at her expectantly. “I want to be the maid of honor when you guys get married.”
The delicious, fruity wine I’m currently drinking goes down the wrong way, and I end up spitting it out, patting my chest as I cough and struggle to catch my breath. “Isa, what in the actual fuck?” I manage to ask between coughs.
“I see it happening.” Isabella shrieks excitedly. I can’t decide what’s more unsettling, a quiet Aria or an excited Isabella. “Oh my God, you’re living the book dream. Two players who don’t believe in love fall for each other.”
Someone needs to wake me up, because I must be having a fever dream. I have no words for what Isabella spat out of her mouth. I don’t even know how to start unpacking this.
“First of all,” I say, lifting one finger. “Who knew you were such a romantic? This look is unsettling, please stop. And two.” I lift a second finger. “There will be no falling in love. Especially because I’ve slept with him already, and I don’t do repeats, much less love.”
I realize my mistake a second too late. Aria’s eyes bulge as Isabella lets out the biggest gasp known to man, placing her hand over her mouth in shock.
“You slept with Lorenzo?” she asks in disbelief.
“He’s Mr. Three-Orgasm Guy,” I confess with a grimace.
Isabella starts nodding nonstop as she tries to dissect this information. “My statement remains.”
“For the record, I agree with Isabella,” Aria chimes in.
“Oh, now you have things to say. Goodie,” I mutter under my breath, crossing my arms.
“We should make a bet,” Isabella says, patting Aria on her arm.
“Agreed. I bet he’s going to say the L word first,” Aria pipes up.
“Guys, hello!?” I shout, waving my hand so they can look at me, which doesn’t work.
“And I bet they’re going to have a Vegas wedding.” Isabella grins, clapping her hands a little too eagerly for my liking.
Aria gasps with equal eagerness. “I can totally see that happening!”
“Guys!” I shout again, causing them to startle and look my way. “This crazy talk needs to stop, now .”
There are so many things I could say, I don’t even know where to begin. For starters, I’ve been burned too many times to believe in love. Yes, it’s been three years, but it doesn’t mean it hurts any less. Not only that, but Lorenzo is a player at heart and I’m too pessimistic. We’re the worst combination ever. We don’t fit. We never will. And most importantly— I don’t want to fit . Not with him. Or with anyone, for that matter. Even if my heart is begging me to open myself to the possibility, it should know better by now. That’s never happening.
Always the maid of honor, never the bride. And I’m okay with that. Or at least I’m halfway there.
Always the person who takes care of others, not the other way around. Even though I’m surrounded by people who love me and would do anything for me, I can’t bring myself to allow anyone to take care of me.
I’m the perfect daughter who sacrifices everything to take care of her mom, and I’ve grown to love that role. My mother didn’t choose this life or her condition, and I’m more than happy to be there for her.
I’m the dumb sister who always comes to the rescue, even when Amelia doesn’t deserve it. And I don’t even do it for her sake, I do it for Mom’s.
I’m the perfect junior journalist whose boss takes advantage of her, because I have no other option. If I have to deal with a misogynistic son of a bitch, then that’s what I will keep doing .
I’m the girl who always has a smile plastered on her face, even when I’m dying inside, because the last thing I want to show is the cracks of my heart.
I’m a lot of things—just not happy. And I’ve learned to accept that.
I have trained myself to accept that.
Opening myself to someone is the opposite of that. I can mend my own heart and take care of myself. I don’t need a man. Much less one who doesn’t take love seriously. A reformed playboy is for fairytales. The type of love story you read in a good old romance book.
But the reality is so much more daunting than that.