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I couldn’t hear the whole conversation, but evidently, something was going down here tonight. I was just glad for once the topic of gossip didn’t involve me.
I am starting to get cold, and my hands automatically wrap around my bare shoulders to cover myself from the wind. Mama is probably wondering where I am, especially since I left my purse downstairs and had been gone for a while. She always kept a close eye on me these days, but I guess previous behavior gives her reason to.
I feel something suddenly slip around my shoulders and gather it’s a jacket,his jacket. I open my mouth to remonstrate, but he puts his finger over my lips.
“Just proving to you that gentleman do exist,” he whispers into my ear as his hot whiskey breath sets a fire ablaze within me. I turn towards him wanting to say a million things, but my head seems to fog. I think he understands because he just gives me a knowing look before disappearing into the night.
I clutch the jacket close to me, inhaling his scent and wanting to keep this moment alive in my head for as long as I can.
“So much is said with the electricity of the eyes, the intensity of a whisper. Less is more.”
—Elizabeth Taylor
IF LEFT TO MY OWN DEVICES, I WOULD HAVE STAYED HERE, ANALYZING EVERY PART OF THE INTERACTION.
I girlishly inhale the soft material of the jacket that is still warm from his body.
Grudgingly, I venture downstairs to mama, as I imagine she is looking for me.
“Where have you been?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Upstairs, I needed some air.”
“Whose jacket is that?” she says, looking incensed.
“Pietro’s, he offered to me because I was cold,” the lie bouncing off my tongue effortlessly.
“See, I told you he was a nice boy, what manners he has,” she says, while nodding approvingly. “At least you behaved yourself tonight.”
Oh, Mama, if you only knew the truth, I thought to myself, half hiding a smirk and half horrified at myself.
It almost doesn’t seem real what had happened tonight. I bury the jacket in the back of my closet when I get home, trying to put what happened to the back of my mind, though it seems easier said than done.
As the days went on, I almost doubted whether it happened, except the jacket in the back of my closet saturated with his musk reassured me it did whilst also scaring me at the same time. I hadn’t felt so drawn to somebody in a long time and it sent a wave of panic through me.
Days turned into weeks, however, those charcoal eyes still invaded my dreams every night as my hands caressed forbidden places.
Almost a month had passed since that night, yet it felt like it was yesterday. My eyes opened as if I had been electrocuted. Ever since that night, I felt like I had been a part of some alternate reality, drifting through day-to-day consciousness. The jacket is still hidden at the back of my closet, and I hadn’t dared to retrieve it.
However, the smell of nicotine, whiskey, and aftershave was embedded in me so deep I didn’t think I would ever forget it. Not to mention those eyes that sliced through me like they were spun from hellfire. Hearing a terse rapt on the door, I shift myself back under the comforter.
“It’s almost midday, and you’re still asleep. What kind of behavior is this?” Mama says exasperatedly.
“I’m tired,” I mutter from under the blankets.
“Are you sick?” she asks, and I feel her yank the blanket off me and place a hand on my forehead.
I am undoubtedly feeling as though some kind of sickness was overtaking me, a fever clinging to me.
“You feel fine. Get your ass downstairs. The Rossi family will be coming over for lunch later.”
“What?” I reply, certainly feeling ill now.
“What do you mean, what? He is your future husband and will be arriving with the rest of the family soon, so get ready. This means a lot to your papa, especially after…” She doesn’t finish, but we both know what she is referring to.
I ignore her, switch the television on, and flick through the channels while she hovers around me.
“Reports of gunfire and violence have broken out in Chicago—” I turn off the television, wishing I never switched it on, to begin with.
