Time spent with the right person feels like a vacation from the world.
~alwasmeek~
Luca
Lia should have hanged her coat, but she puts it in the middle chair that separates us. She throws the sling bag on top before pulling her seat and sitting down with a thud. Usually, I would have said something about it. However, until this meeting, or ambush, came to an end or I got used to sitting beside Lia in front of an audience too soon after spending more than a few hours making love to her, I intended to vet every word that got out of my mouth.
"So, what brings you here?" My mom asked; she was leaning on the chair, arms across her chest, her eyes spotting a glint that told me she already knew.
I shrug, "celebrating." I say, elbowing Lia for her to continue. It was her news to share, her success; I didn't want to be the one to say the words. Mom moves her eyes to Lia, all of them do. I look at her—my mother—although I was young, I remember her sad eyes. It was one of those things that you never forget. They haunt you, traumatize you because your brain has made them a part of your life, and will never allow you to forget.
I turn to look at Lia when I hear her Sigh. She is moving her animated eyes from one to the other, building up their anticipation; I watched eagerness turn to impatience until they were about to lose it.
"I just finished filming my first dialogue part in the children of blood and oil."
They gasp, her mom holds a trembling hand against her mouth, tears brimming in her eyes.
"It's okay, mom." Lia says, touching her hand in comfort.
"That's wonderful, honey. Tell us about Maxwell Vanderbilt."
I roll my eyes. What the hell did women see in that prick?
"Is he as cute in person?"
Lia nods, and I gently pinch her thigh, ensuring my calm demeanor remains. I don't want to draw attention to us.
"I wasn't aware you found him cute," I hear the sneer in my voice; they heard it too, judging by their similar smirks.
"You don't agree?" My mom asks, her knowing gaze fixed on mine. "Of course you're more beautiful than him." She emphasis.
"Sure, mom." I reply, unconvinced, kneading the back of my neck as if I was tired. I wasn't; I was just tired of hearing them giggle, sigh, and aah over Maxwell Vanderbilt.
"I'm serious. You're more beautiful; you came from your father and me."
"I believe you." I said quickly, breathing a sigh of relief when the chef knocked on the door. I didn't want her to add anything to the subject, like throw me a gleeful look alluding to the fact that I was conceived in a poorly lit club in Milan. Not that she knew I knew, my father had answered some of my most pressing questions once when I needed to know whether he was my father.
He had said yes, which was one of the best moments of my life. Although I didn't believe it at first, considering my mother and I had lived with Freddie, my stepfather, for four years before Bruno came for us, I had doubted it; then believed him when he asked if DNA would convince me.
I'm not entirely sure he didn't tell her, perhaps not since my mother had repeated the same few months before my seventh birthday.
When the server left after taking our order, they bombarded us with questions about what was happening in our lives, even though they probably got weekly reports from their husbands.
"When are you returning to Italy, Luca?" Asked my mother; I leaned back in my seat and said on Friday the following week. I hadn't told Lia this, nor had we talked about my going back though we both knew I would. I had to have ample time to prepare for Abu Dhabi Formula 1 Grand Prix happening in two months.
It will be a vigorous exercise, but I had promised myself that I would work half as much towards our relationship.
Even though Lia didn't say anything, I felt her go stiff. I knew exactly how she felt. Cutting what we had short would come with a few or more hangovers—missing each other, mainly since our relationship was now physical.
"That is unfortunate. I know Lia will Miss you." Said, aunt Soph. She was always worried about Lia being alone in a new city, but she didn't have to. Lia was thriving; she loved every aspect of her life.
"I'll miss her too." that was true and I didn't feel the need to hide it or be coy about it. I would miss her immensely. Eating dinner with her while we went through our interests, discussing movies, racing, music, making love at night and early morning. It was like a vacation.
When our food came, Lia and I forgot we shouldn't be seen as fraternizing more than we should especially whispering at each other or tittering under our breath. That, however, shouldn't have called attention to us since we've always been like that, but it's how we touched each other now, the looks we couldn't control to give each other.
"Are you dating?" Damn, aunt Mia! She has always been so straightforward and honest.
"No." Lia and I say at the same time. We had talked about this. We did not want our parents to have input in our relationship, but most importantly, having our fathers start planning a strategy around it as they had done for most of the decisions we've made since we came of age did not sit well with us.
Not yet, anyway.
They were disappointed; we could tell. Although not sure whether it was because they knew we lied to them or for not dating.
"You will spend the night at home, right?" My mom asked; Lia and I nodded. That seemed to make them happy for a while.
After we ate together, they left us to celebrate as we had initially planned. We waited for a few minutes for fear they might come back for something they forgot to find us wrapped in each other's arms.
"Do you think it's safe now?" Lia asked after a while; I turned to her, my heart humming at how gorgeous she looked in the fluorescent light.
"I think so." We turned to each other, slowly like a lion walking to its prey, afraid to startle it until our bodies were almost touching, our eyes telling everything our bodies felt.
*****************************************
???
His eyes are beautiful, I know. I have been staring at them every chance I get since I was almost five years. They tell me the truth too, because when I look at them, I will know whether Luc is lying.
His eyes were the first to tell me he was attracted to me, the first to touch me; right now, they spoke of how much he wanted to jump me—a compliment. I smile—more of a snigger than a smile.
"Your eyes love me," I say; he frowns, confused, looking at me from his superior height even though we are both seated.
"What?"
I shrug, palming one side of his face. His eyes flutter, gently pushing his cheek into my palm, his hand touching mine as if he did not want me to stop.
"What do you mean my eyes love you?"
"They don't hide from me." I replied smugly.
"Have you stopped to think they tell you because I allow them to?" Luca questioned, tugging my pinkie in his mouth; I almost moaned at the sensation. "No, I haven't," I blink, staring intensely into his eyes.
"Is that true?" he nods, and I don't know whether to believe him. "Are you sure?" he nods again, which has me narrowing my eyes like I'm accusing him of a lie. "When did you start liking me?"
He bits the inside of his mouth, still looking at me, "the first time I saw you." That is not what I'm asking, and he knows it.
"Don't be obtuse; you know what I mean?" he moves his gaze from me, moving his eyes around the room and then back to my face. He is focused on something on my forehead, so intensely is his gaze that I swipe at it to remove whatever has his attention.
His mouth stretches into something that resembles a smile, a twitch of his lips. "I think when I was ten," he whispers in a hoarse voice, sounding like his throat is stuffed. He clears his throat, then shoves a hand in his hair. "Really?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yes." He says with conviction. I somehow couldn't believe it. "What the hell did you know at ten?"
"That I wanted to kiss you." my eyes widen in shock. I feel the same way I felt when he said he wanted to make me pregnant when we were fourteen, though, in light of this new information, I understand, albeit a little bit, why he could wish to make me pregnant.
"You're crazy!" I exclaimed, wishing I could have more wine.
"About you? Definitely." I felt warmth slipping through my veins when he said that.
"Do you know when you started liking me?" Luca asked. Of course, I did, right to the day. I remember walking to our forest, my body anchored in his because I had hurt myself when I slipped over a stump and fell. I had felt safe in his arms, protected and important.
We both grew up in a loving environment. We knew our parents loved us as much as the rest of our family. We were lucky, but how I felt about Luc at that moment was different. He made my body want things I didn't understand at first; the warm feeling of his hands on mine felt as if it marked me.
I did not answer in the first few seconds. Perhaps he thought I wouldn't because he answered for me.
"When you were twelve. Two f*****g years after me," he announced, sounding pissed while I sat there, surprised that he had known.
"How the hell do you know that?"
"Because you stopped falling asleep when I dropped by your bedroom for a midnight snack. "
"I still fell asleep," I contradicted, crossing my arms across my chest.
"Not when I was still there. You would fall asleep when I was still talking before that. Drove me crazy because I wanted to talk to you the whole night. "
"You did?" My heart bloomed with excitement, making it thud loudly and in quick succession.
"I did," he said in a low tone, gently kissing my lips. I felt adored.
"I would stare at you for like an hour while you slept. I know, it's creepy, but I couldn't help it. You seemed so peaceful, softly breathing into my face sometimes. "
I didn't know what to say to this, nor did I have the strength to move my mesmerized gaze from his face. I was in a trance, trapped by words, memories, and green eyes.
"Which is why I kissed you that first time. I couldn't help it; it was like I had no more energy to stop from crossing that line. "
He was referring to our first kiss. He had walked into my room one evening while I was washing my hair in the bathroom, carrying strawberry ice cream. I had told him to spoon-feed me one bite because my hands were foamed in shampoo. He had, and then he had stayed, sitting on top of my toilet, watching me.
I had been conscious of his gaze because it was the first few months after realizing I was attracted to him. Once I was done, he stood, placing the bowl on the bathroom countertop before pulling me towards him, helping me dry it up. We were so close, so close I could hear the loud beating of his heart. Once he was done, he wrapped the towel around my head, palmed my cheeks, his eyes looking at me as if I was a snack. The first touch of his lips to mine left me breathless; I remember clinging to his arms when he deepened the kiss.
I was twelve. In hindsight, we tried getting to fourteen before stripping off each other, which is what we both wanted since that first kiss.
"How come you were so good at kissing at that age."
He smirked. "I listened to the men around us talking." I looked at him horrified, "not them! Thank God. I mean Matteo, Dev, and the rest."
"You have perfected the art of kissing, I'll say that much."
He gave me a knowing wink, "so have you."
I bit my lips to keep from smirking as well, though I averted my eyes pretty quickly when he looked at me with such raw need I sometimes felt as if I couldn't possibly satisfy him. But that thought was quickly stashed away when the door was suddenly pushed open. We jerked up in surprise to watch as our fathers and uncle Rom entered the room. They are always together; we call them the three musketeers.
"We hear congratulations are in order, sweetheart," my father announced, coming to hug me.
"Yes, they are. " I tell him, kissing his cheek. "Good, good. We are proud of you." When we were done hugging and kissing, they sat on the same said where our moms had been, and by sheer coincidence, magic or Whitcraft or whatever, each sat where his wife had vacated.
"Moms were here. Did you see them? Luca asked. He had noticed too.
"No. We dropped them by the entrance, but they're now seated at the bar. We had an emergency meeting. Speaking of meetings, you're both coming with us on Sunday. It's time for you to meet the heads of each of the ten families under ours."
If a pin had been dropped at that moment, we could have heard it. The silence, the shock, but mostly the feeling of clouds falling on me, stealing the breath out of my lungs.
"I thought we had more time?" Luca asked, beating me to it.
"You still do. Call this orientation."
Aksara