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“I’ll go and temper Logan’s foul mood, but I expect to see you downstairs in five, or I’m coming back up here and dragging you out myself,” he warns, pointing a threatening finger at me as he makes his way to follow Logan. “And for the love of God, get some air in this room. It reeks like someone puked in here.”
He's not wrong.
Alex visited my room last night, talking the same old weepy shit just before he threw up all over my carpet and passed out on top of it. I had to drag him back to his room, since his snoring wasn’t going to let me sleep a wink. Alex gets sentimental when he's drunk. Talking about how he should be a better brother to me, seeing as we only have each other. The thing is, the minute he sobers up, Alex totally forgets all his drunken promises and just does his thing solo. I'm used to it by now. Even though I know Logan and Quaid are nothing like him, I'm always ready for when they ditch me too. Always keeping them at arm’s length.
Everybody leaves. So why make an effort for them to stay?
Once I hear the door slam, I get up from my bed and walk over to the window again. Logan’s right. I am curious. I watch her smile over to her dad as she passes him some boxes and he pulls on her ponytail.
She looks happy. I wonder what that feels like?
When Quaid and Logan stroll over to her, her smile widens further, and a pang inside my chest starts to prick at my insides.
Would she smile like that if I came to help her, or would she think I was just another freak and shoo me away?
I pick up my camera and take her picture. I zoom in and see that her eyes are a color I've never seen before—golden brown with specks of dusted green in them.
“Shit,” I curse when I check the image on my camera.
It's too distorted to see her eyes clearly. I go back and take a few more pictures, but all of them come out just as cloudy. I guess some things just need to be seen up close, no matter how good a lens you’ve got. Against my better judgment, I pull on a t-shirt and head downstairs.
“Carter, is that you?” my grandma asks from the living room.
“It’s me, Gran.”
“Are you going somewhere?” she asks confused, and why wouldn’t she be? I'm not exactly the kind of kid who leaves his bed before noon, much less willingly goes outside before that hour.
“I’m just going to help the guys out with something. Will you be okay without me for a few hours?”
“I’ll be fine. If I need anything, I’m sure Alex can do it. He’s still in his room, right?”
“Yep.” I pop the ‘p’ in the end. “But I got my cell, so just call me if you need anything, okay?” I tell her instead of explaining that her eldest grandson will undoubtedly be sleeping it off until sundown and wouldn’t move a muscle to help her.
“Okay, sweet boy. Have fun.”
I don't answer and walk outside the door. The morning sun slams against my fair skin and eyes, making me put on a ball cap to cover up. The walk between my driveway and Valentina’s is exactly twenty-three steps.
“Glad to see you made it,” Quaid greets with an all-knowing grin, as if he was certain I’d show up one way or another.
For a wannabe jock, he sure is insightful when he wants to be. Logan is usually the brains in our trio, but sometimes his hot head gets in the way. Quaid on the other hand, knows each one of us by heart, pulling on the precise strings to get his way. Not that I needed much persuading.
I bridge the gap between us, Quaid nudging my shoulder with his to show his approval. Logan is still wearing a frown on his pretty boy face, but he's never been one to hold a grudge for long.
Just as I'm about to say something, Valentina comes out of her house and stops right at the center of her porch, looking at us three.
This is it.
This is when she will be disappointed to see me here.
I’m ready for her disdain and disinterest, but instead, what I get knocks my world off its axis.
The same sparkling smile I saw from my bedroom window, the one that was directed at my best friends just a few minutes ago, is now beaming brightly at me. It's even more majestic then in any of the shots I was able to capture
“You must be Carter,” she sings songs, her voice a rich melody I will never be able to capture with my camera.
“Valentina.”
She waves an errant strand of ebony hair away from her heart-shaped face, and in my mind, I’m taking each still-shot and framing it up on my wall. In just a few seconds in her presence, Valentina Rossi has just embodied every muse and inspiration I could ever have.
