Date = 5 April
Place = San Francisco
POV – Aria
I blink a few times to acclimate my eyes to the bright sunlight streaming directly onto my face through the open drapes. What time is it? I grab my phone from the bedstand and look at the time; 11:34. Wow, I can’t remember when last I slept this late. But then again, we humped like bunnies right through the night … only falling asleep after daybreak somewhere.
I breathe deeply, stretching myself out under the silky blanket, memories of last night cascading over my used body to settle warmly in my heart.
Clothes are scattered around the room; only mine. Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I quietly patter to the sounds coming from somewhere in the house, most probably the kitchen. Maybe Enrique is making us a very late breakfast; he’s a super good cook and we didn’t get to eat last night. My tummy rumbles in suspense. Yeah, I’m a little famished … we burned loads of energy and it’s time to refuel.
I pause; the only evidence of last night’s outburst is the cabinet door now left exposed without a glass; the rest is spotlessly clean; as if nothing happened. But it did, though. Or was it a dream? Not. I have a sensitive body to prove it.
My tiptoe stalk onward leaves me baffled and slightly pained; expecting to find Enrique, I find myself face-to-face with Aunt Betty instead. A deep blush rushes up my body, past my raw nipples to reach my cheeks. I quickly tighten the blanket to hide my nudity.
“Oh, morning my dear,” the chubby, middle-aged woman greets me warmly, her eyes flashing with an I-know-what-you-did-last-night glint. My blush deepens.
“Eh … morning Aunt Betty,” I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable under her curious eyes.
“Coffee, dear?” Yes … yes … yes … but I’m naked and a little dirty.
“I think I’ll just shower first if that’s okay?” Why am I asking permission? Flip, I feel as if I’m floating on a cloud, about to plummet into the ground. Where is Enrique and why did he leave without a word?
“Sure, dear. I see you made bolognese … oh, it’s one of my favorite dishes. And judging by the empty pots, Ricky enjoyed it too.” Aunt Betty started calling the boys by my sister’s nicknames for them – Ricky, Logi, Doc, CJ, Champ, Blue, and Hero. I think she secretly adopted Leyla as her grandchild in her heart … she adores my sister and vice versa.
And … nope, Enrique … eh Ricky sure as hell didn’t enjoy anything about it. I watch silently as she picks up the empty pot from the stove to put it into the dishwasher. Wait, why is the pot empty? Without thinking I move forward and stare at the dirty bowl on the table. Somebody ate almost all the pasta. Enrique? No way!
“Eh, Aunt Betty, did you clean the living room?” I’m having a slight little heart attack here. I don’t understand what happened to the rest of the food. But why would he eat something he’s appalled to? Was he that hungry? Did Enrique have a brother over … but who … nobody is around. Ilkay? No, he had a shift last night.
“Nope, not yet,” she smiles cheerfully. So Enrique must have cleaned it. I walk back to our room, my head spinning like a freaking yo-yo. Not even the warm shower gets rid of the cobwebs. What the fuck?
My fingers wash between my sore folds, and the dull pain moves through my veins to ache in my heart with each unsure beat. Last night was the most wonderful night of my life … and also the scariest; giving your heart (and your body) to someone … especially someone like Enrique, is probably the hardest thing to do you know it’s gonna break and hurt like fuck, but you just can’t help it.
And where is the man now? I turn off the water and stare at the fog-filled mirror. One wipe of my hand and a hazy fragile me gawks back. I’m not even sure I know who that person is anymore. These last couple of years have been overwhelming and somewhere along the lines I got lost; my parent’s death; Noah’s absence; looking after Leyla; her ALL (Acute lymphocytic leukemia); handling two jobs and my online channel; the contract; and now falling in love.
I shake my head. Get a grip, Aria Thompson. Nothing is gonna get me down. Not those stupid cancer cells in my sister’s blood, not this contract thing, and certainly not a man! I will stay strong. For my sister. If I’m strong, she’ll be strong … she’ll win this fucking ALL and she’ll have everything she dreams of. The most beautiful life – I’ll make sure of that.
I look at my reflection in the mirror again. But what about your dreams? I roll my eyes and scuff … girl … I have no dreams; they died with my parents in the car that day!
“Aria, dear, can I put on the coffee machine now?” Aunt Betty shouts from outside the door.
“Yes, thank you,” I hurry and jump into some jeans and a top. Could Enrique regret last night? Is that why he left? No, he must have gone to the club. He’s just busy. Except for the people on the designated road trip … everybody else is also away somewhere; Lee and Jackson are in LA; Logan is in Washington for some training camp, Kiara went to visit her dad in jail; Axel is fighting forest fires in Canada, Ilkay is freaking working himself into the ground, and Damion is on his way to Europe.
Luckily I’m meeting Mel at the club later. Thinking about the little blond makes me smile. She can cheer up a grumpy bear, and it’s exactly what I need right now. I text her.
Aria: WYA?
She replies almost immediately.
Mel: Lawyers. Chloe back with nudes. Bih!
I don’t know the bitch Chloe or what she’s talking about, but I can guess she’s pissed.
Aria: Chloe?
Mel: Your ho’s BFF
She lost me. My ho? What the hell?
Aria: ?????
I can see her rolling her eyes at me in my mind.
Mel: Amanda duh! CTN CU @ club
Aria: (thumbs-up-emoji)
Okay, so Chloe must be the girl that was stalking Damion … and if she’s Amanda’s friend … does Amanda send nudes to Enrique then? There’s nothing in the contract that says he can’t look … he just can’t touch … So is he? Looking? He must be ’cause she’s a freaking Victoria’s Secrets Angel. Why would he not look? And he previously fucked her … that I’m sure of. And again … why would he not? The question now is … will he stop?
I’m crazy to think that. Last night was just another easy lay for him. It was just sex. And I should treat it as such. Just a hook-up and nothing more. That’s exactly what I will do. I’m stuck in the cardboard box again … and I can’t breathe. I’m gonna be a claustrophobic mess at the end of this damn contract; stuck in the loony bin; driven mental due to a lack of oxygen in the brain! I need out of here!
I call for an uber. Slowly I make my way to the kitchen. A small step at a time. And there on the counter awaits my morning coffee in the mood-cup.
Boy oh boy, do I need this cup of delicious caffeine, I think lifting it from the counter; gradually the cup changes from white to red. Great, as if I need a color-changing mug to know that I’ve fallen head over heels for a stupid heartless robot. That one I figured out all by myself, thank you very much. But I’m never gonna let him know that. I’ll keep my distance from now on.
Beep-beep.
The intercom busses and Aunt Betty presses the button.
“Miss Aria, your uber has arrived!” a voice comes from the speaker. Must be Anton from the gate.
I gulp down my coffee and grab the small packed backpack and my keys.
“Bye Aunt Betty, I’ll see you next time,” I wrap my arms around the curvy body before rushing out the door to the gate.
“Bye Anton, have a good one!” I wave at the elderly gate guard; then get into the waiting uber, telling him the address where I want to go. Skyscrapers, houses, and small shops rush past the window; the distinct scent of the ocean plays with my nostrils, but my mind is on another planet. Or rather on a man. A complex man. Just as complex as his eyes.