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He starts to walk up the staircase, bag in hand, and goes straight into his room. Once the door closes, I shoot a glare at Chanel.
Whisper yelling, “Why would you give him the room right next to mine when there are two bigger bedrooms right down the hall?” I point behind the couch to the hall right underneath the staircase.
She shrugs.
Cleo just gapes at me. “The man was shamelessly flirting with you,” she tells me in a shocked voice.
“No, he was not. The man has a girlfriend. A very hot and rich one at that.” I roll my eyes at her.
“You like him, don’t you?” she teases.
“No, I do not!” I defend.
“Who wouldn’t? Girlfriend or not, he’s attractive. Plus, have you ever heard of crushes on the unattainable? That’s your type in a nutshell,” Chanel tells me.
I look at her with a hurt expression. Chanel says what she thinks most of the time; it’s something that can be a blessing and a curse. She always has good intentions, but her words can occasionally come out as offensive.
“She doesn’t mean it like that. For example, my type is an image inside my brain that doesn’t exist. I have a knack for falling for extremely famous men who don’t know who I am, and most likely, I have an idea of them that doesn’t exist. It even comes to a point where I can’t fathom the idea of not marrying them. My case is much worse; at least you know the men you like in real life,” Cleo points out, trying to make me feel better.
The pain from yesterday’s events creeps into my heart. I loved León for a long time. He is my first love, and technically he wasn’t unattainable. But I don’t think I will ever get over him. I have lied to myself for years, trying to manifest that I didn’t feel the way I felt about him. Lying to yourself sometimes can be denial. That’s the mindset I’ve been in for years and one I want to completely clear out of my headspace.
I don’t need a relationship right now, especially not one with Xavier.
Chapter8
Xavier Valente
She’s even more beautiful than I remember. We met approximately two years ago and counting. After our brief interaction during the Mexican Grand Prix, I have stalked her on social media ever since. It’s probably bad for me to be fanboying over someone I’ve only met a handful of times.
But the beautiful, mysterious, and shy Violetta Luna has enthralled me ever since. I may not know much about her, but I list the things I know from the top of my head.
I consider Vio more of a celebrity crush than anything. I have a girlfriend, and my image of Vio hasn’t stopped me from getting romantically involved with anyone else. This leads me to believe that she’s just a fantasy I’ve cultivated in my head.
What’s a little crush? We all have them, even when we’re in relationships. Crushes that aren’t attainable, ones we know will never be reciprocated and wouldn’t be acted upon even if we had the chance.
My girlfriend is one of Elektra’s investors’ daughters. After the incident my teammate Ale conjured up, I had to clean it up for her.
Meeting Marrisa Schultz and liking her in a romantic capacity was unexpected.
She’s great, and I appreciate the woman she is, but even so, Vio has never left my mind.
When I see Vio at races or on the court, I get this feeling in my stomach. I refuse to call it butterflies, but I am too self-aware, and sadly it is just that. I’ve never been so obsessed with a woman before in my life. I have religiously been following her matches, social media, and brand deals for the last two years. I’m acting like a fourteen-year-old girl who was obsessed with One Direction in 2014, and I embrace it.
When I called Ale asking if I could use her beach house for a week, she said yes. On top of that, knowing her, she had to throw in the fact that Vio was staying here as well. When I heard her name over the phone, I don’t know why I had this immediate need to fly over as soon as possible. Booking a commercial flight from Monaco to Mexico City took only two minutes after the call ended. I waited in two airports until I made it, and then I took a bus that led me here after three hours of traffic. Then I proceeded to pay a taxi driver a hundred and sixty dollars to get me all the way to this house.
Running my hand through my hair, I get up from my bed. My hand meets the cool screen of my cell on the side table. I unplug it and check the time, my eyes squinting as I process the big white numbers.
It’s ten thirty. I slept longer than usual.
My feet carry me out of bed and toward the closet where my duffle bag resides. My fingers take hold of the zipper, and I open it. Jeff, my trainer, gets here at two in the afternoon, which means I’m training myself for the day.
After I throw on my clothes, I open the door assigned to me upon arrival as I look for a sign of life. When staying in a house with other people, it can get awkward, especially when some of those people are strangers. The funny part about my fascination with Vio is that I don’t really know her.
Do I want to? Absolutely.
But even so, I don’t know if I can handle it. In reality, finding out who she is could either skew my perception of her or amplify it tenfold, knowing that I came here intending to get to know Vio on a friend level.
A friend you can’t get out of your head…
