Page 2 of His First Love

"It's not my garden," she says right away, looking straight into my eyes.

Since it doesn't meanno, I take a seat next to Camilla, not close enough to make her nervous again, leaning back against the trunk of a nearby tree.

Through all this time, Camilla looks directly at me, meticulously exploring me as if trying to remember.

Please don't tell me you know who I am.The thought appears in my mind immediately, even though I know I can do nothing about it even if she does. She will not be genuine with me if she finds out who I am. At least, others wouldn't be. The second a girl finds out who I am, she instantly tries to impress me. And I don't want that. At least, not now, not withthis girl.

"I asked because you chose the farthest corner of the garden, invisible from the entrance, and that makes me think you wanted privacy," I explain, unable to decide if she already knows who I am or not, "or hide from someone."

Camilla looks even younger now, so close up. I wonder if she's eighteen yet, afraid to find out the truth. Deep down inside, I feel like I won't be able to stop stalking her even if she is underage.

She lowers her gaze, not saying anything in response. It's apparent that she was hiding, and I'm sure it was because of her parents, but if she doesn't want to talk about it, I'm not going to insist.

"Titanic." I break the silence, and she looks up at me again. "It’s a much more interesting story thanRomeo and Juliet."

"It's not a book," she protests with a laugh, shaking her head slightly as if she expected me to say something like that.

I scold myself for being so predictable, but at the same time, it makes me want to try harder to impress her, to prove to her that she is wrong about me.

Hmmm. This is a new feeling for me, something I've never experienced before. And it makes my heart jump with joy and anticipation of what will be next.

"Well, then,Tristan and Isolde," I say, feeling my throat dry and my voice change.

What's wrong with me? I am barely able to speak. No woman has ever had an effect like this on me before.

"I like the movie better, but the book is also quite good," I add quickly after clearing my throat.

Camilla silently looks at me for a couple of moments and then says quietly with a smile, "Yeah, the movie is much better."

When I see that smile, something inside of me clicks. I experience such a warm, pleasurable feeling inside of me as if I had been waiting for this moment—for Camilla to smile at me—all my life.

She slightly tilts her head and places her lower lip between her teeth. I look at those lips, thinking I want to bite them, too.

"Do I know you?" she asks after a pause, and the pleasure evaporates immediately, turning into disappointment.

She knows me. What a fool I was to think that she wouldn’t. Her mother had probably already told her to stay away from me. And now, she sees me through the prism of local tabloids and city gossip.

"I saw you at the beach yesterday," she continues, without paying attention to my reaction. "You work here, don't you?"

I exhale loudly with relief, realizing that I was wrong. She doesn't know who I am; she meant she saw me somewhere before. Of course, she did when I was stalking her for three days if today counts.

"Yes, I do." I nod in response.

"You're a lifeguard?"

What should I say? I don't want to lie to her. But at the same time, I don't want to expose myself yet.

"Kind of," I finally say. "I work at the beach, at the restaurant, at the desk, doing anything my boss tells me."

That is true. I do everything. Because managing the hotel is not only about giving orders. And the rest of the story about who I am I'll tell her later.

She looks at me attentively, as if trying to understand me, therealme, from the inside, and not only because of how I look. Most girls don't see me this way. They only care about the family I belong to and the advantages they can get from dating me.

I was always okay with that. Never in my life have I had trouble with finding a one-night stand. Never before have I tried hard for a woman to like me.

But for some reason, this time, withthisgirl, I want everything to be different. I want her to see me, the real me, and not the image appearing after reading about my family in some article.

For a couple of moments, we stare at each other, and the warm feeling inside of me arises again, this time stronger.

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