Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
And even picturing myself telling him how I felt, even if I kept hidden how deep it actually ran, the fear of rejection was far too real. The fear of being used kept my mouth shut and had me keeping my distance. I watched him from afar, the same way he did me. And even if it was exhausting, it was also tiresome and depressing. And every time I had to leave for school, I felt that ache in my chest intensify. Those months away were pure torture. Was it hard for him too? Did he even notice my absence? Was my need for him to feel the same way about me just a ridiculous, girlish fantasy?
I didn’t want to think about these things anymore today, so I got up, grabbed my towel, and headed inside. The water from my swim had dried from my body completely. That’s what the hot summer sun did, roasting you from the outside in a matter of minutes.
I headed inside, pulling open the patio sliding glass door. I could smell dinner cooking by Laney, the family cook who came over every Sunday and made us an incredible meal. I could hear the soft music she typically played while preparing dinner. Although my parents ran in a snobby circle and were extremely wealthy because of the distillery, they were pretty down to earth. They treated their employees like family, even asking Laney to join us for dinner after she was done preparing it.
But despite all that, everyone they ran with, everyone they associated with, had the same frame of mind—you never get involved with the help.
But I knew my mother and father, knew they would love me and accept whatever decision I made. But there was still that fear in me, and that’s why it held me back.
And even if I knew my family hadn’t always been wealthy, that we used to have nothing, things were different now. Times changed and societies were aristocratical in some respects. At one time, the distillery had been nothing but a dream my great-great-grandfather had. He had nothing to his name, but he worked hard and built it to what it was today.
I pushed my thoughts back. There was no point in lingering on them right now. It wouldn’t help my situation anyway.
Because in the end, I’d do what I wanted no matter what. I’d be with and love whoever I wanted to.
I headed to my room and closed the door, tossing the towel into the hamper by my closet and walking over to the window. I pulled the curtain aside and stared down at the patio.
The pool house was off to the side, and as I looked far past that, across the perfectly manicured property, an acre away from the main house, I saw the cottage Gio and his parents lived in. It had once been a guest house before Gio and his family moved in. But once they started working for my parents, my mother and father insisted they stay, live in the cottage, and call it their home.
I may not have spoken to Gio too much over the years, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t wanted to. I wanted to desperately. I wanted him to make the first move, to be stronger than I was, even if I didn’t know if he felt anything more than passing desire.
But then on the heels of my desire, I thought of his folks. Would they have the same notion and feelings on how we “shouldn’t mix”? I couldn’t believe that. I loved Maria and Alfonso. They were like pseudo-parents to me, always looking out for me. Maria even brought me fresh vegetables she’d grown in her garden. No, they’d welcome us being together with a genuine smile on their face.
I searched for Gio, if nothing more than to look at him, to yearn and long for him from afar. I was pathetic, but I guess everyone was who was in love and the other party had no dang clue.
Chapter Three
Gio
I leaned back in my chair and moved my fork around my dinner plate, pushing the food around. My focus—and appetite—were not on the pot roast and potatoes my mom prepared.
“What’s wrong?” my mother asked.
I glanced up and shook my head. “Nothing.” It was a lie. There was plenty wrong, but nothing I wanted to talk to my parents about.
My father sat to my left, and although I wasn’t looking at him, I felt his stare. He had questions, no doubt, after seeing me all but eye-fucking Pyper. Whether he’d call me out on it or not, especially at the dinner table in front of my mom, was left to be seen.
What I needed to do was go for a walk, clear my head, and get some fresh air. I had a lot of thinking to do, decisions to make. I felt this waging war inside me, one that was telling me to do what I wanted, what I thought was right. But then there was another one talking, one deeper, not as strong. It held me back, telling me I’d be crossing lines, that I could ruin everything. But what would I be ruining? It wasn’t as if we had this close friendship, Pyper and me. We barely talked. But as the days went on, my feelings for her continued to deepen, not diminishing in the slightest.