Chapter 5
His eyes are an open book, and the words on each page are written in bold letters.
Fabio is not as unreadable as he thinks.
I knew he would cave a bit. I knew I wasn’t imaginingthings on my eighteenth birthday. I saw he wanted that kiss just as much as I did, which is why I had asked for it. I wanted to be brave and go for what I wanted for the first time.
He makes it difficult, but again, he makes me want to show him I know how to play this game no matter how clumsy I can get. But… I suck in a deep breath, searching his eyes for a plea to back down or a command that I should get into the car. Something, anything, to let me know he is not only jealous to see me with another man but also protective enough to be territorial.
With the glare in his eyes and the growl masking his breath, I might as well wish for the sky to turn lemon green instead of him saying anything to stop me.
Does he not realize that all he needs to do is speak the words, and I will bidPaul and Gloria goodbye? Does he not realize there is no competition in any of this if he asks me to choose him? Is he so blind to the fact that my waiting provides an opportunity for him to help me stopthis game? Because I want to stop it. I don’t want to play pretense.
“No need,” he unclasps the seatbelt, “I will come with you.”
“Are you sure?” The words stagger out of my mouth. There will be a lot of people, and you don’t vibe with crowds,” the side of my lip flickers, and he lifts an eyebrow. “Fabio, you can…” he clamps my words, pulling the car window. I stare at my reflection in the tinted frame and hate the fact that I am trying too much, but it feels like it’s not enough.
I don’t want to dramatize my life; I want to romanticize it. I don’t want to cozy up to a stranger while the man I truly want watches me from a distance. I don’t want to have to do any of this, but he leaves me with no choice, and no matter how much I try to give him an opening, he has made up his mind, so I must.
The car door opens, and he steps out in all his glory. The man”s aura is mesmerizing, with his tousled black hair and clean-shaven beard. He is beautiful with the sun falling on his face. It makes me want to capture it—to capture him, the object of my inspiration. It feels insulting for him to think I would choose Paul over him.
I observe his every move and think of the best way to capture this moment.
I would blur the corners around himand give his emerald eyes more depthas if they were a windstorm sweeping a forest off. I would make it monochromatic, but I wouldn’t removethe colors of his eyes. Theyare a window to his soul, fitting for a man who takes great satisfaction in being immersed indarkness.
He steps aside, creating room for me to go in front of him, a familiar routine. What I would give to walk beside him and have him hold my hand.
I spin, going in front of him, with each of my steps propelled by the giddiness of being able to get under his mask successfully. I can feel his eyes on my back and it tingles. It’s exciting. I pick up my pace, knowing I need to get to Paul quickly and save face. I don’t know how smart he will be about the situation or if he will agree to be used as my fake boyfriend.
I get to them, Gloria flicking her eyes from side to side to ask in codes if Fabio consented, and I nod, flashing a smile at her. I slink my arm under Paul’s and his head snaps in my direction to look down at me.
“You are my boyfriend,” I blurt out, having no desire to explain the Fabio situation to anyone else for now.
“I am?” His mouth spreads in a smile that would have ladies swooning and spiraling, a smile that does nothing to me.
“Yes, babe,” I nod in Fabio’s direction, and he gets it.
“Hell, yeah, I am,” he drops his head as if to whisper in my ear. “I just hit the jackpot, Eva Teso.” I don’t know what he is talking about, and I will do well to text him later to make sure he doesn’t complicate things by thinking I am hitting on him or that I want this charade to continue in private.
But for now, he will do.
We walkdown the corridor that leads to the cafeteria, waving at a few familiar faces, andPaul seems to be a little too popular for his own good. I hadn’t noticed him before now. How is it he”s so popular, yet I”ve never seen him?
Occasionally,I glance over my shoulder to see Fabio following us. He looks odd, out of context. His allure is not typical. He strides with a certain swaggeras though he owns the place and knows the attention he commands, heads whirling in his way, including mine.
The smell of cream, butter, chips, and vanilla greets us as Paul pushes open thedoor of the cafeteria. We are welcomed by the sound of footstepsand a lot of unknown faces mixed with the quiet chippering of voices over voices, the swinging of bodies from one table to another, andthe students filing to the tableswith their lunches.
“Eva,” Fabio calls behind me as Gloria leads us to an empty table in the far corner.
I smile at myself, hope fizzling in my stomach—hope that he has had it up to his neck and is ready to press the stop button on this boring dramatization of my fake relationship.
“I will be with you in a minute,” I untangle from Paul, expecting him to go with Gloria, but he nods, shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and stands there waiting as I turn and head back to Fabio.
I tamper my smile, hiding every trace of the hope brewing in my stomach.
“Yes?” I hook my thumb on the strap of my sling bag and shove my free hand down the back pocket of my denim pants.
“You want to study here?” He veers his eyes above me, scanning the cafeteria, and I nod, answering his question too quickly if it means he will get to the main point.
“You don’t want me to?” I nudge him.
“Whatever you do, don’t go too far and stay where I can see you,” he meets my eyes now, and I gulp, trying to force the disappointment down my stomach, but it seems trapped in my throat.
With that, the excitement quiets down, and I roll my eyes at him. “Yes, sir.” I motion to leave but as I spin away, our bodies brushing against each other as he bumps into me.
He takes a step back, but the lingering burn from the prickling proximity sticks to my skin.
He swallows, his eyes staying above my head, I know he is glaring at Paul.
“What do you think of him?” I turn, step closer and whisper, “I like him a lot. But my father…” I puff. “You already know what would happen if he found out,” I click my tongue against my teeth. “I can’t tell Vittoria, and Gloria’s judgment is a little biased because of his physical appearance,” I scramble out. “But you,” I point at him. “You can tell me what you think, and I will believe it to be the truth.”
He looks at me, and his jaw clenches, telling me he has no interest in engaging in this conversation. I smile, suppressing my laughter.
“You don’t like him?” I shrug, enjoying this as much as I should. “He is a lovely guy, and I think he will make the perfect…”
“Eva,” he cuts me. “If he misbehaves, I will kill him,” he croons. I know he means it. He is a shockingly dangerous man. But his words have a different effect on me. One that sends currents traveling through me that gather in my core.
I nod, “Yes, sir.” I spin and allow the smile to take a full seat on my face. I get to Paul, slink our arms, and strut with him to Gloria, who is already sitting, trying to fix something on her pocket camera.
“Tell me what you want, and I will go get it,” Paul says, pushing a chair for me to sit.
“Pink lemonade,” I sit and rid myself of my sling bag.
“French fries for me,” Gloria says, lifting her head for a quick bit. Then she is back, acutely focused on the camera.
“Pink lemonade and French fries,” Paul chimes, and his eyes fall to Fabio sitting across from us at another table. “Anything for you?” To which he gets a scowl in response and nods. “Got it,” he says and heads toward the counter to order.
“What is wrong with your camera?” I ask Gloria as I open my sling bag and begin unpacking my laptop, notebook, and pen.
“I was having chips late last night, and I think a small chunk might have gotten stuck. It’s stiffening the aperture ring,” Gloria grunts and drops the camera on the table, then leans forward. “You like Paul?” she mouths, and I shake my head both to tell her no and to tell her to drop the topic. “You do,” she continues.
“Fabio,” I mouth and point with my eyes. I don’t know what she makes of that, but she leans back in her seat and slits her eyes at me.
“We will talk about this later,” her words are a loud whisper now. I won’t be talking about any of this later, but I don’t say that. Instead, I nod with a giggly smile as if I cannot wait to gossip all about my miserable pining life.
Paul walks back with our orders and a bottle of water for himself. He sets the trays on the table and then sits beside me, slightly blocking out Fabio from my view. I adjust my seat forward and lean one elbow on the table to remedy the situation.
I take a sip of my pink lemonade, and it slaps but also morphs into sweetness. “Thank you, babe,” I say as I push myself closer to Paul.
“Anything for you,” he unpacks, bringing out his laptop, notepad, and pen.
“Your hair looks good! Did you change something?” I reach for his hair with the tip of my pen.
“You like it?”
“How can I not?”
“You didn’t say anything when I sent the pictures.” He is good. He is a natural.
“I wanted to say it in person,” I sip again as my side eye catches Fabio firing death shots at Paul.
He hates him.
Good.