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“Yes, I have hobbies. I just don’t have much time to do any of them, and even when I do I need to wait until he’s not at home.”
Wait until he’s not at home? Wow. Now I am feeling sorry for him. How can Roland be that bad? To his son, most of all. Then again, he has a history of causing pain to those he is close to. “What are they? Your hobbies,” I ask. I’m intrigued to know what he’s interested in doing other than what his dad does.
“Painting at some point, but my supplies got ruined and I never had the time to get new ones. Now I’m into stuff in the kitchen, considering I don’t need to buy anything special for it,” he says.
“Painting is still connected to the company.”
“You’d think that until you figure out he actually hated it. Called it a waste of time, just as he does everything else.” Really?I mean, painting is related to what Roland’s business revolves around. Why wouldn’t he encourage it?
Roland is weird.
“And cooking? Doesn’t Roland have a personal chef?” I question.
He nods his head. “I don’t cook to eat, I do it for fun. I might not be able to paint, but I can make food an art. He can’t say anything about that,” he adds with a grin, before moving his head sideways, looking down at my hands as he tries to catch a glimpse of what I’m reading. “How about you? Romance?” he asks.
I look down at my book to remember what I just picked up. “It’s a Valentine’s romance. Valentine’s is my favorite holiday, which is ironic considering I’m not a love type of person,” I admit to him. By “not a love type of person,” I mean I’m not a romantic myself. I’m practically sworn off romance, for my own reasons. Not many of the people around me had the best romances, including myself.
“I expected the opposite. How come it’s your favorite holiday then?” he questions. I know, it’s funny. I love Valentines yet I’m not a love person. But love is a great thing in my opinion, it’s just unlucky for some people.
“My birthday is on February fifteenth.A day after. It’s like a second birthday,” I explain. My name is inspired by my birthday, so it isn’t a coincidence.
“You’re sixteen?”
Okay, this is going to be humiliating. “No, I’m seventeen,” I reply. He looks at me, confused. “You’re only around three months younger than me then, right?” Elias asks. His birthday is this month, now I remember Lorenzo telling me. I bring a hand to my face, rubbing one side of it. “You’re trying to make me look stupid,” I state.
“Wait, so you failed a year?” he points out.
“I don’t like you.”
“You never did.” I turn away from him, frowning. “I’m not judging, I swear. Not everyone is good at school, I get that,” he says. I look up to see him smiling. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. It’s okay. And that’s nice. Your birthday being a day after Valentine,” he adds.
“Whatever, you’re forgiven,” I tell him, flicking my wrist in his direction twice. I hear him laugh. It’s bright and soft, unlike any other I’ve heard. It’s somewhat comforting.
No. What the hell is going on with me? What am I doing? I’m not supposed to be warming up to him this early. No matter what his laugh sounds like. I still don’t trust him yet; I need to remember that. No being stupid.
“So, how long does it take you to read a book?” he asks, changing the subject. I turn my head to look at him again. I don’t have much time to read, nor do I read much anyway, so I’m not a fast reader. But I also can get through a book in less than a week if it’s good.
“Between four days and two weeks. Depends on the book,” I reply.
“On one book?” He acts surprised. I cross my arms around my chest.
“Not everyone sits down all day and gets Daddy to buy them everything,” I mock.
“I’d agree with you, but you’d be surprised how limited I am with the things I’m allowed to do. You should try having all your moves monitored,” he argues. I have, and it is a horrible thing. I return my hands to my head and sigh.
“Stop trying to make me feel bad for you,” I demand.
“I’m not. I’m just stating that maybe I’m a faster reader than you,” he specifies. He probably is, but I’d do anything for an attempt to prove him wrong right now.
“I don’t think I can trust you until I see it for myself,” I state, opening to the first page of the book in my hand.
“Is that a challenge?” he asks, cocking a brow as he shifts his position.
“Maybe it is. What, you too high class to believe you can be beaten by me?” I taunt.
His gaze drops down to the book, and a whisper leaves his mouth. “It’s on.”
Oh, it is.
