Chapter 24
I had the most unsettling dream. In it, I was in my room with Zane, cuddling and sharing soft kisses. I felt sheer happiness until, unexpectedly, he pulled out a knife and stabbed me.
I had never paid much attention to rumors, having heard my fair share of false stories about myself. People tended to jump to the worst conclusions. If Zane had acted the way he did, there must have been a reason.
I couldn't fathom him hurting someone without a motive, and the only way to uncover the truth was to speak with him directly.
I wasn't afraid of him; I held this unwavering belief that he would never hurt me.
Or perhaps I just wanted to cling to that idea so desperately that I ignored any other possibilities.
I was set on confronting him at school, but he wasn't there. He wasn't there the next day, either. I tried texting him, but there was no reply. All I could do was wait.
My mind kept replaying everything he had ever said to me, yet I felt as if he were keeping me at arm's length. Sometimes, I felt foolish and lost, unsure of my decisions. But I supposed that was just part of growing up.
That day, my dad asked me to meet him at his office after school, mentioning he needed my assistance with something.
On the way into town, I stopped by Elias’s store for a brief chat, then headed to my dad’s office.
Upon entering, the place felt deserted. My dad welcomed me with a smile, inviting me into his office.
“Give me a moment, sweetheart. I just need to finish filling out some paperwork for my last patient,” he said, gesturing for me to sit.
As I looked around, I noticed a layer of dust covering everything; it seemed as if it hadn't been cleaned in ages.
After a while, my dad finally turned to me.
“I could use your help,” he said, capturing my full attention.
“What do you have in mind?”
“I'm thinking of buying a car for your mother, and I'd love your input. It'll be a vehicle you can drive too, since you'll be getting your driver's license soon. By the way, why are you still waiting? I wanted to hear what you think and what you might like.”
“Of course, I can help,” I replied. “But I'm not sure about getting my license.
Do you remember how terrible I was during our practice sessions last year?
I told you I wouldn't drive again. It's just not for me. I didn't even want a scooter.” The memory of my dad’s enthusiasm during those driving lessons felt distant, especially after the accident with my mom.
Every time I heard about someone dying in a car crash—often young people I knew or went to school with—it made me even more hesitant.
“Well, you need to. Once you graduate, you'll want a car,” my dad insisted, as if it was a foregone conclusion. I nodded, not wanting to delve deeper into the conversation.
He locked up the office, and we drove to a nearby car dealership. Rows of cars stretched out before us. What was I supposed to choose? I figured my decision would probably be based solely on color since I didn't know anything about cars.
“How about this one?” my dad suggested, pointing at a sleek white Alfa Romeo.
“Yeah, it looks nice,” I responded, hoping that was the answer he wanted.
“Nice? This is the latest model! Look at how incredible it is!” he exclaimed, admiring it as he walked around, scrutinizing every detail. He opened the door and gestured for me to sit in the driver's seat. I hesitated but wanted to please him, so I
climbed in. To my surprise, it felt comfortable, and the smell of new car leather brought back memories of Zane.
As I lightly gripped the steering wheel, my mind drifted back to him.
“So, what do you think? I spotted this beauty the other day and thought your mom would love it,” my dad said, beaming.
“Isn't it a bit pricey?” I questioned, knowing a new car would come with a significant cost.
“Well, I can make a down payment and finance the rest, paying in smaller monthly installments,” he replied, and I could see he had already made up his mind.
The whole process dragged on for what felt like forever, nearly an hour and a half of paperwork. We still had to wait a few days for financing approval and other details I didn't care to know.
On the way home, my dad seemed pleased, and we chatted about how excited Mom would be. Just as we drew closer to home, my phone buzzed with a text from Zane:
“Hey, dummy! Be ready tomorrow around 2 PM. I have something to show you.”
Once I read the message, I felt as if I were in a bubble, tuning out all external sounds.
My dad continued to speak, but I couldn't hear him.
Butterflies awoke and danced in my stomach, my heart pounded, and all I wanted was for tomorrow to arrive, as if nothing else mattered—not even what Marco had said.
I woke up early, unable to drift back to sleep. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes stretched into hours; it felt like time had slowed to a crawl. I waited impatiently after tidying up my room, barely touching my lunch.
My mom was busy cleaning the house, while my dad was out organizing the garage—probably making room for the new car my mom didn't know about yet. I was on high alert, listening for every car that drove by, my heart racing until I finally heard one pull into the driveway.
I dashed downstairs, having already told my mom I was going out with Zane, but I didn't anticipate him ringing the doorbell. Before I could reach the door, my mom opened it first.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Bernardi. I'm Zachary,” Zane said, standing on the doorstep.
“Pleasure to meet you; I'm Julia. Please come in,” my mom replied graciously. I could see her surprise; Zane was much taller than she expected, and his shoulders seemed broader. Then, my dad rushed in, curious about our guest.
“Hello, I'm Elio,” my dad said, extending his hand with a forced smile. Even he had to look up at Zane.
“Zachary. Nice to meet you, Mr. Bernardi,” Zane responded with a polite smile. It was odd to see him so composed and even a bit shy.
“So, what are you two up to tonight?” my dad inquired, and embarrassment flooded over me. I froze, eager to hear Zane’s answer.
“I'm planning to introduce Luna to my friends and spend some time chatting together. I thought we could grab some pizza for dinner,” Zane said, smiling at my parents for their approval. I secretly hoped he wasn't talking about the Vipers.
“Would you like some coffee?” my mom offered, leading Zane toward the kitchen.
“Sure, I'd love that,” he replied, not even glancing my way.
I was anxious, worried about the questions my parents might ask.
If they only knew what he did, they would never allow this.
I trailed behind them into the kitchen while my mom prepared coffee and my dad scrutinized Zane.
I felt like I couldn't speak; I just wanted to run away. My anxiety consumed the air.
“So, Zachary, do you live nearby?” my mom asked.
“Actually, I'm currently staying in an apartment close to school, but we have a house in the countryside, about half an hour from here,” Zane said with a smile.
“Oh, interesting. And what do your parents do?” my mom continued, and I could tell Zane was regretting accepting the coffee invitation.
“My dad's a lawyer. My parents are separated; my mom lives in London with her new husband,” he said flatly.
“I'm sorry; I didn't mean to pry…” my mom apologized, sensing it was a sensitive topic.
“No need to apologize; it's fine,” Zane replied, as if he anticipated such questions.
“I'm afraid we have to be on our way. Thank you for your hospitality,” Zane said as he stood up.
My dad was still observing, not quite convinced about the guy his daughter was dating.
I wasn't even sure what to call it; our situation was complicated and unclear.
“Luna, take your phone. Call me if anything happens,” my dad whispered, grabbing my arm. I nodded, feeling annoyed.
We got into his car, and as he started the engine, he turned to me.
“I'm sorry about that earlier, but I think it's important for your parents to get to know me,” he said, smiling.
“I'm also sorry for leaving the other day without a word.
That was wrong of me. Let's not make this complicated; let's just enjoy ourselves without overthinking it.” He glanced at me and then back at the road.
I didn't know how to respond, so I simply nodded.
“So, where are we headed?” I asked, sensing that what he said might not be entirely true.
“I told you, we would meet some friends,” he smiled.
“You mean… V and…?” I hesitated, not wanting to voice my reluctance to spend time with them.
“They're not so bad, and it's important that my sister likes you.
You wanted to know more about me, so I'm showing you.
I'll show you how I spend my Saturday afternoons.
Remember when you asked about the bruises on my forearm?
I'm ready to show you how I got them. There was a little performance that day, and I'd love for you to come,” he said softly.
I was confused; I didn't understand what he meant or where we were going. I smiled, deciding not to ask further questions, and figured I would find out soon enough.
We arrived in the part of town where our school was located, and Zane drove a bit further out until we reached an old brick building that seemed abandoned, yet there were plenty of cars parked around.
“What's this place?” I asked, curiously examining the structure.
“It's my gym,” Zane replied.
“A gym? So, you get bruises from working out?” I laughed.
“Not exactly,” he chuckled, and my frustration grew.
I had no clue what to expect beyond those doors, but curiosity propelled me forward as I walked toward the wooden door.
My heart pounded as Zane took my hand, sending a rush of warmth through me.
He smiled at me, then suddenly stopped right in front of the entrance.