Chapter 1 #3
“I have no criminal record. None. I’ve never committed any crime.
I’m not very smart, so I don’t do well in school.
That said, I don’t usually do as badly as I did last year, so I probably won’t be around very long anyway.
In the meantime, I promise not to do anything wrong with your Granny.
I’ll do whatever she wants, and what my aunt wants, then I’ll stay out of the way. ”
He blinked, those clear blue eyes focused on my face for far too long. I glanced at the floor. Better if we don’t make eye contact.
He finally said, “Do you like Italian food?”
I lifted my gaze to find he still stared at me. “You don’t have to take me out because of your Granny, seriously. She said you had something to do. Go do it.”
He smiled slowly, the expression unfolding across his face like a seduction. The rich boy was back, privilege practically oozing from every cell of his body. I frowned, familiar enough with the look. Over the past few years, I’d practically become an expert at spotting it.
He continued. “Firstly, I do have to take you out because she told me to. I always do what my Granny tells me to do, because she is absolutely my favorite person in the world. She always has been. My brothers and I adore her without reservation, but it’s not just us.
The whole family does.” He paused. “I make it a priority to never disappoint her. That said, I find you really interesting. I can’t make you out exactly, and I’m a playwright, or I want to be.
I’m usually good with character studies. ”
A new one for me. He wanted to make me out so he could use me in a play. Well, I intended to put him in my stories, too—not that I would ever admit it to him.
I clarified, “You want to go out for Italian food so that you can use me in a play?”
He shook his head. “No, so I can understand you better. You’re intriguing. I only came to town to see my Granny because we all visit once every two weeks, if not more. It was my turn. It just worked out conveniently because I got to meet you.”
I sighed. I didn’t think he would let me leave without dinner.
Maybe I could chew with my mouth open and then he would leave me alone?
My family never expected me to have manners.
They seemed to forget that my mother had been raised with them.
They grew up with the same nannies and the same lessons in manners.
In her own way, Mom relayed her early lessons to me as best she could before she died.
“Okay, I like Italian. Let’s get this done so you can fulfill your obligation.
Hopefully, you’ll decide I’m not too crazy to be allowed near your Granny, who clearly has a big heart to go with her eccentric ways.
I picked up on the fact she wants to take me on because my aunt reminds her of some past personal experience.
” Though I honestly doubted his grandmother’s experiences could’ve been anywhere near my personal hells.
I motioned toward the door. “Shall we go?”
He put his hand out. “Ladies first.”
I obeyed, walking toward the doorway before I stopped.
“I want to confess I haven’t been out much since I got here.
Actually, twice I’ve followed my aunt to the drug store.
First, I needed some pencils and the second time to show me where I would go to school, since she might not have time to do it later. Where are we headed?”
“This way.” He nodded left, so I followed him out then down the street.
I knew almost nothing about Manhattan, so I struggled to resist gawking at everything around us.
My parents raised me in Colorado, in a small formerly thriving mining town.
Few people remained there at all anymore.
After my father died, when I was seven, my mother moved us even further away from populated areas, to very rural North Dakota.
We stayed there until she died. Since then, I’d lived in San Francisco and Chicago—both busy places, but nothing like our current metroplex.
We strode down the sidewalk on the Upper East Side, but I honestly didn’t know much more than that.
My mother seemed allergic to her family’s wealth, or so she liked to joke.
I realized later that money made her nervous.
Of course, we never had any, so it had just been impressions she gave me.
If someone drove too nice of a car, she avoided them.
So far, from my personal experiences, I could understand why.
People were mean, and they cared in abundance about who had more than them and who had less.
Maybe it really was better to live someplace where no one had anything?
Things seemed certainly simpler that way.
As if he knew the direction of my thoughts, Julian asked as we turned onto Seventy-Sixth Street, “How do you like it here so far?”
My eyes scanned around me again, and I shoved down a wave of panic.
Instead of answering, I desperately hoped he would walk me back home after dinner.
I sucked at remembering directions, especially in cities, where all the cement looked the same to me.
It was easy to find my way in the country.
The big tree marked the place to turn left to get to school, or the dirt road was a mile ahead.
In the city, everything looked the same.
Gr a y. Glass. Big buildings, big stores, lots of noise.
I shrugged, focusing on his question. “It’s fine here.”
“Right.” He nodded. “You hate it.”
I glanced at him quickly, surprised at his response. Julian was dangerous. With those pretty blue eyes of his, he sees too much.