The storm #2
I stare at him, completely stunned by his vulnerability. Outside, the wind howls even louder, a sharp siren blaring somewhere in the distance. I'm just glad I managed to send Clara a text message before the cell service completely disconnected.
"So, what about your parents?" Lorenzo asks softly, pulling me out of my thoughts. "What happened to them?"
"A car accident," I whisper.
I study his face, watching his eyes widen slightly in the darkness. A flash of genuine concern and deep, unexpected hurt reflects in his dark gaze, breaking through his usual icy exterior.
For the next hour, the rules of our war seem to vanish. We do something entirely crazy,we actually talk.
"So, have you lived jn the city your whole life?" I ask, watching him over the flicker of the candle.
"No. I lived with my uncle for a couple of months," he answers.
A burning urge to know more rattles through me, making me entirely too bold. "So what did you do while you lived with him? Did you go to school there, or..." I cut myself off when I feel the heavy, questioning weight of his gaze drop onto me.
"Why so interested in my life all of a sudden, stalker?" A slow, devastating grin tugs at the corner of his lips.
"Well... it's just, you know, people talk a lot, and..."
"And you wonder if it's true?" he asks, leaning back against the booth, lost in his own thoughts for a fleeting second.
"I don't really care," I say quickly, trying to salvage my pride. "You know, I just thought that since we are stuck here, it's the best time to know your enemy a bit better."
He nods, his expression fracturing into something softer. "Enemies." He tastes the word on his tongue, as if trying to figure out where it still fits between us. "I lived with my uncle for three months because of family business," he continues, his tone shifting into something almost normal.
As he talks, we discover that his uncle's place was only half an hour away from my old home. A strange, quiet coincidence that makes the world feel entirely too small.
We talk over two whole scoops of ice cream that Jane brings to our table.
It feels completely surreal, eating dessert with the guy I'm supposed to despise while a literal natural disaster rages outside.
When the elderly woman hands us the bowls, I can't stop a genuine smile from breaking across my face.
"So, is your uncle your father's brother?" I push a bit further, watching him nod. "And why did..."
"Now it's my turn to ask questions, stalker," he cuts me off smoothly.
"Why are you at the academy?"
"Because my aunt wanted me to be," I say quickly, desperate to change the subject before he digs too deep. I quickly grab my spoon. "I love ice cream," I blurt out, immediately scooping a bite into my mouth to keep from speaking.
I look up, catching Lorenzo staring at me. His gaze is dark, yearning, entirely focused on my face.
"What?" I ask, my pulse instantly spiking.
He lets out a soft, low laugha sound so rich it sends a delicious shiver straight down my spine. "You have chocolate right on your face, Miller."
"Oh, really?" I feel my cheeks flush hot. I frantically try to wipe it away with the back of my hand. "Clean?"
"No," Lorenzo murmurs.
He leans across the small table. Reaching out, his large, warm fingers gently cup the side of my jaw. The touch is electrifying a burst of white-hot heat that steals the air straight from my lungs. Time stands completely, utterly still.
He uses his thumb to softly wipe the stray chocolate off my cheek, his skin lingering against mine for a fraction of a second too long.
"There," he whispers, his thumb brushing my skin one last time before his hand finally drops.
And right in that exact second, the lights snap back on.
The harsh, bright overhead glare floods the small café, blinding us both and forcing us to look up toward the ceiling. The intimate cocoon of the candlelight vanishes in an instant.
"Oh, finally," I breathe, my voice sounding a little too breathless as I look past Lorenzo's broad shoulder.
I watch with a soft smile as the elderly couple near the counter instantly wrap their arms around each other in relief. "They are so cute," I say, the words slipping out mostly to myself.
Lorenzo's dark eyes follow my gaze toward the hugging couple. To my absolute surprise, a faint, unreadable look crosses his face before he gives a slow, quiet nod.
"Yes," he admits softly.
He shifts back in his seat, breaking the lingering spell between us, and downs the last few drops of his now-cold coffee.
"I'm gonna go pay," he says, his voice suddenly returning to that familiar, cool, and business-like tone as he stands up from the booth. "And then I can drive you back. If you want."
Just like that, the cozy, warm feeling inside my chest cracks and breaks. The walls are slamming back up.
I blink past the sudden chill in the air, swallowing the sharp disappointment before it can show on my face.
"Yes. Okay," I reply quietly, reaching for my bag as reality pulls us back into the storm's aftermath.
Back home, I find my aunt fast asleep on the sofa, one of her hands still buried inside a half-empty bag of chips. A soft smile tugs at my lips. I walk over, gently drape a warm blanket over her shoulders, and click off the television.
And slip quietly into my bedroom, my heart racing as I immediately dial Maria's number.
"Sophie?" Maria's voice crackles through the speaker after the very first ring.
"Yes, it's me," I whisper, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder as I begin changing into my pajamas.
"How was it? Did you survive the storm with him?"
"Maria... I don't even know. I found so much out" I manage to say, my voice cracking slightly. I let myself collapse backward onto my mattress, staring blankly up at the ceiling.
"Tell me absolutely everything."
So, I do.
I tell her about the café, about the moment in the art gallery about his father, and the silent drive back home.
When I finally finish recounting the night, the line goes completely quiet for a second before Maria bursts into a fit of giggles.
"Why are you laughing?" I snap, rolling over onto my stomach and burying my face in the pillow. "It's not funny, Maria. It's actually deeply concerning!"
"I think you genuinely enjoyed it," she teases, her voice full of mischief.
"No! I had to endure it in order to survive," I clarify, my cheeks flushing hot in the darkness of my room.
I cannot allow my self that it was a slip out tonight a mistake that can never happen again just stuoid emotions that's it .
"Oh, come on, Sophie. You like him."
"No I absolutely do not ," I say out loud, forcing the words past my teeth.
But as the heavy silence of my room settles back around me, a terrifying realization creeps in. The more I repeat those words, the less they actually convince me anymore.
"You fell in love with the bad boy," Maria giggles into the receiver.
Have I?
The question hangs in the dark air of my bedroom, heavy and terrifying.
And if that is true... what the hell am I supposed to do?
My mind screams at me to stop. To put the walls back up. I can't do this. I can't afford to let him in. Not after everything.
I can't.
I shouldn't.
...But as I close my eyes and feel the phantom warmth of his thumb still lingering on my jaw, a small, treacherous whisper echoes in the back of my mind.
Maybe it's easier that way?