Chapter 6
Kady
When Kylah and I were about seven, my parents threw an eleventh birthday party for Cade and all his friends at this indoor game center. It was one of those warehouse-sized event places that have video games, dodge ball courts, trampoline areas, ball pits and various other kid stuff.
About an hour into it, though, I’d already used up all my tokens for the play-to-pay games and I wanted more. I first asked my sister to loan me a few of hers, but this time she denied my request. This immediately pissed me off, because she always shared with me. So, I went trouncing off to find my brother, who was in the middle of a laser tag game at the time. He basically told me to go the hell away because I was ruining his fun.
With my tail between my legs, I slinked off to find my parents who were sitting at a table with a bunch of other adults. I whispered a “pretty please” to my mom who sweetly smiled and shook her head at me, not missing a beat in her conversation. I then turned to my final option – my dad.
He was busy typing frantically on his phone, probably dealing with a client situation, even though he was supposed to be enjoying his son’s birthday. I figured he was distracted and would make an easy mark. I stood in front of him giving him my sweetest, cherubic-smile and held my hand out like a pauper.
You want to know what he did?
He gave me a condescending pat on the head and waved me off, mouthing, “Go play.”
I was livid! I stomped away as fast as my little seven-year-old legs could take me and I decided then and there that I was going to run away.
Who the hell did they think they were? I was Kadence Michelle Griffin, dammit!
Being smart enough to know I’d need food for my life alone on the streets, I grabbed a basket of fries and a few slices of pizza from the table, and went looking for a place to run away. The minute I walked out the door of the building and into the blazing hot sun, I realized how tough it would be on the run. It was hot out. So, I turned and stomped right back inside, as if I meant to do that, and found another place to hide.
The birthday party finished up about an hour later and everyone began to leave when someone realized I wasn’t with the other kids. Panic ensued, of course, and I think my parents were just about to put out an Amber Alert when my dad found me huddled in the corner behind an old Pacman machine, tears streaked down my cheek.
This was the first, but not the last, of the many stunts I’ve pulled over my lifetime. As the middle child with the strong personality, I’m the one who caused trouble. I brought drama. I was their constant disappointment. So, what I told Gavin earlier really wasn’t too far off the mark. I honestly think my family is better off without me around this summer and they won’t miss me in the least.
All these thoughts weigh heavily on me as Gavin and I stroll along the cobblestone road toward theFortezza da Basso, an old armory fortress. We’d already leisurely walked through thePiazza del Mercato Centrale, just a block from his home, checking out all the homemade leather items that I was dying to buy, but didn’t have the money for.
I did, however, have enough Euros with me to indulge in a large, two-scoop strawberry and chocolate gelato cone. I’ve been working on finishing this tower of deliciousness since we left the street market and am close to devouring the last drop as we head into the entrance ofda Basso.
This is not my first gelato, but it’s particularly yummy, and my lips and tongue are frozen from the contact with the cold and creamy dessert. My moan of satisfaction is almost embarrassingly loud, but I have no modesty as I continue licking away the remaining remnants of the sweet, creamy goodness. My eyes practically roll to the back of my head when I catch Gavin staring at me, wearing a look that contains both amusement and arousal.
He’s staring at the spot where the gelato and my tongue touched my lips.
Already feeling mellow and euphoric from the dessert, I cock my head to the side and tease him with a seductive flick of my tongue over my teeth, before smacking my lips together in exaggerated flirtation.
“What? The Italians make an art form out of gelato, don’t you think?”
“I wouldn’t know. Can’t eat the stuff,” he says, his voice gravely and thick.
Just to see if I’ve still got it and haven’t lost my touch, I allow my eyes to casually, and oh-so slowly, drift down Gavin’s torso, stopping at the front of his pants.
Sure enough, my flirty, sexy play made him hard. Jackpot.
I knew it wasn’t all in my imagination. There is definitely something between us. Some kismet connection that’s grown and expanded the more time we’ve spent in each other’s company these past few days. Whether that’s a good thing, or a bad break, is yet to be determined.
But I’ll tell you one thing. There is nothing I want less than to get involved with a basketball player. No matter how hot he is. Especially one that will remain here in Italy when the time comes for me to leave.
On the other hand, he is sexy and sweet. Nothing’s stopping me from experiencing a white-hot romance while in romantic Florence.
Returning my gaze to his face, I lick the corner of my mouth, making sure my tongue is sending a very clear message.
“Don’t you like gelato?”
“Uh,” he stammers, nearly stumbling over the cobblestone as he opens the gate into the large courtyard of the armory building. “No, it’s not that. I’m allergic to dairy.”
I frown. “What happens? Does your face like swell up like a balloon? Get hives? Go into aphylactic shock or something?”
“Nah, nothing like that. I had a bad experience as a kid and just avoid it now. My stomach is intolerant. But nothing really bad happens.”
