• 20
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Five. Entire. Days.
And I hadn't heard a single word from Nico Costa.
No calls, not even a text.
No catching him walking out of some dark alley like he magically teleported again.
Nothing.
The silence was eating me alive in the most humiliating way.
Maybe he was mad, because I embarrassed myself so badly when I was drunk that he decided to never speak to me again.
Did I say something mean or annoying or stupid?
"Oh my goshhhh," I whispered to myself as I stared at my kitchen counter. "Just end me. End my misery now."
The toaster suddenly popped and smoke curled up.
"Oh—OH MY GOD. The bread!"
I spun around and yanked the burnt toast out. Completely useless.
I tossed it onto the counter and let out the deepest, most tragic sigh of my entire life.
"What's that smell?" Mom asked as she walked in, frowning.
"Burnt toast," I said quietly. "Sorry."
"It's fine," she said, staring at her coffee. "Just... don't waste food."
"I know," I muttered. It was a mistake.
I stared at her for a second, then said, "Mom... how come we don't go places together anymore?"
She didn't even look up.
"Because I'm busy, Daria. Things aren't like they used to be. You know that."
I pressed my lips together. Yeah. I know that.
"I get it," I said softly.
She took a sip of coffee. " Elizabeth is at dance practice today. You or I need to pick her up."
"I can," I said.
She nodded. "Okay... oh wait never mind. I can do it."
I nodded back, then scooped up the burnt toast, tossed it in the trash and whispered under my breath,
"I'm not even hungry anymore."
My cheeks burned with embarrassment, for no reason and every reason at once. I went upstairs, closed my door, and fell flat on my bed.
My family was... weird. Distant. I hated how things were.
Conversations felt like stepping on glass.
I grabbed my phone, stared at the screen, waited for a notification that wasn't coming.
Nothing.
Why do I care so much?
I used to never care if I didn't talk to people.
But now it's like the silence was crawling under my skin.
"Okay," I whispered to myself. "Forget it. Forget pride. Forget embarrassment."
I opened my messages.
My stomach twisted.
Then I typed:
I hit send before I could chicken out.
Then—
Two seconds later.
TWO.
He replied instantly.
I gasped.
Actually gasped out loud.
That was fast... okay wow.
Okay.
My heart needs to relax.
It felt like someone unclenched a fist around my ribs.
Another message popped up immediately:
I stared at ceiling.
"My life is falling apart" wasn't an option.
Three dots appeared.
I blinked at my phone.
Shopping, with Nico.
Why am I getting butterflies?
I giggled. I couldn't help say it. He takes it so seriously.
He didn't reply with words. Only:
THIRTY MINUTES?!
I launched myself off my bed like a possessed cartoon character.
I showered in record time, threw on a cute pink top, light jeans, sandals, and let my hair down. I put my glasses on top of my head like a little accessory. I added some mascara, lip gloss, and tried not to look like a girl who had just been fighting for her life emotionally for five days straight.
I grabbed my bag, looked at myself in the mirror, and whispered:
"Okay. Breathe. You're normal. Totally normal."
Even though I absolutely wasn't.
And then I heard it.
A car door shutting outside.
Nico was here.
Nico texted that he was outside, so I grabbed my bag, fixed my lip gloss one last time, and headed downstairs.
The second I stepped outside, he was leaning against his car. Black t-shirt, chain, watch glinting in the sun, tattoos peeking from under his sleeve. He looked really good for someone who probably didn't even try.
His eyes dragged over me slowly. Not in a creepy way. In a why-do-you-look-like-that way.
"You ready?" he asked.
"Yeah." I tried not to sound too excited. Failed.
He opened the passenger door for me, and when I slid in, the car smelled like him, clean, expensive, masculine. My stomach fluttered for absolutely no reason.
We drove in comfortable silence until I asked, "So... why do you need a suit?"
"For an event," he said simply.
"What kind of event?"
"A formal one."
I waited for more. He didn't give more.
"Wow. You're so descriptive," I muttered.
He looked over at me, lips twitching. "I'm picking a suit, not writing a poem."
I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling.
When we got to the mall, he walked beside me. His hand brushed mine once in a way that felt... accidental. Probably. Maybe. I was overthinking.
We went into the most expensive-looking store I'd ever seen. Everything was black, glossy, and smelled like money.
A saleswoman hurried over instantly, smiling way too brightly. "Welcome! How can I assist you today?"
Nico pointed to himself. "Suit. Black. Tailored."
"Yes, of course," she said, then turned to me like she just noticed I existed. "And for your girlfriend? Anything?"
I opened my mouth, but Nico spoke first.
"She —"
"I'm good," I cut in quickly, cheeks heating. "Just here for moral support."
She nodded politely but kept glancing between us like she didn't believe it.
We followed her to the fitting area. Nico slipped into a changing room while I sat on the plush couch, crossing my legs and trying not to think about anything stupid.
Then he came out.
Oh. My. God.
Is this man real? He's gorgeous.
Black suit. White shirt. No tie. Jacket open. One hand in his pocket.
My heart did something weird.
"What?" he asked when he saw my face.
I blinked out of it. "Nothing."
His eyes narrowed a little. "You sure?"
"Yes," I said too quickly.
His lips curved ever so slightly and he turned toward the mirror. The saleswoman practically sparkled as she stepped closer, brushing invisible lint off his shoulder.
"Oh, this is perfect on you," she said, placing her hand on his arm and leaning in with a big smile.
A slow annoyance curled in my stomach. Totally irrational. Totally not my problem.
Nico didn't react, but he looked at me in the mirror like he noticed my mood shift.
"What do you think?" he asked.
I crossed my arms. "It's fine."
"Just fine?"
"Yes." My voice cracked.
He raised a brow like he wanted to laugh. "You sound annoyed."
"I'm not annoyed."
"You're annoyed."
"I'm literally not, Nico."
The saleswoman stepped back, clearly confused by the weird energy.
Nico walked toward me, stopping right in front of where I was sitting. He leaned his hands on the armrest beside me, lowering himself to eye level. He was close, too close.
"Why are you annoyed?" he asked softly.
I tried to look away. He didn't let me. He grabbed my chin. My heart ticked.
"Nessa would tell you I just have a resting mean face," I mumbled.
"That's not an answer."
I breathed out, flustered. "It looks good on you, okay? Happy now?"
His chest rose slightly, like he heard what I wasn't saying.
"Say that again," he said.
"No."
He leaned closer. "Daria."
I swallowed. "It looks really good."
That little smirk returned. "Thank you."
He stepped back before I melted into the floor. "We'll take it," he told the saleswoman.
She nodded, still staring at him. Wipe the drool lady, ugh.
We walked out of the store, bags in hand. I was still trying to regulate my breathing.
"So," he said once we were back in the mall hallway. "We have to get you something."
"No, Nico. I don't want anything."
"It wasn't a question."
I blinked. "I don't need anything."
He stopped walking and looked down at me, head tilted like I'd just said the stupidest thing he'd ever heard.
"You came with me," he said. "So you get something."
"That's... not how that works."
"It is today."
I stared at him, completely lost. "Nico, I didn't come for a reward. I came because you asked."
"I know," he said quietly.
We kept walking and he steered us toward another store. Not a suit store. Not jewelry. Not makeup.
A boutique. Pink walls. Soft lighting. Clothes that looked like they belonged on Pinterest girls who had their lives together.
"I'm not going in there," I said, stopping dead in my tracks.
"You are."
"Nico—"
"Daria."
The way he said my name... I swear my knees wobbled.
"I don't want anything," I repeated weakly.
"I do," he said simply, opening the door for me.
I blinked up at him. "You want something for yourself from a women's boutique?"
The corner of his lips tilted. "I want you to get something."
"That's not the same thing."
He didn't argue. He just gave me that look again. The one that made my brain stop working. Why am I feeling things for Nico Costa?
"Come on," he said softly. "Let me do something for you."
My breath caught.
And I walked inside.
I love them
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