I scoffed, "That's not my end goal, thank you very much. I want to be recognized for something other than my looks one day. It’s why I was going to college.”
“You know, you could take out a loan and go back. You don’t have to rely on your parents’ money for everything, princess.”
“And go into debt and spend the rest of my life paying it back, no, thank you.” I brushed at the tabletop, feeling the need to move or do something as anxiety rose anytime I brought up my stepdad’s money.
“Not everyone has options like you. And can’t you just ask your rich daddy to pay it back for you?” He sits down across from meand sets a plate down. The aroma wakes me up as I get a whiff of the buttery pancakes.
“He’s not my real dad, remember,” I tell him as I scoop some scrambled eggs onto my plate.
“That’s right, stepdad,” Nick says, getting up from his seat to grab a pen and paper, then returning to join me.
“Here, you write something about yourself that you think I should know, and read it to me. Then I’ll share something off my list with you, and we can exchange papers to memorize.”
That wasn’t a bad idea. It certainly would help perfect our acting roles, like a manuscript for a movie.
“Okay, I have been on the set of several different movies being filmed, like The Aviator, Wolf of Wall Street, Saving Private Ryan, and Legends of the Fall.”
Nick didn’t act all giddy like most guys did when I told them that, he simply grabbed the syrup and started pouring it on top of his pancake.
“That’s cool. I loved Saving Private Ryan. Good movie.” He took a bite and then looked over at his sheet and read something off of it while chewing his food.
“My favorite dessert is anginetti cookies.”
I chuckled. “You think you would write something a little more significant.”
“My mom always sent those to me when I was deployed, and it was always around Christmas time. Those damn lemon cookies were the only thing I looked forward to at times, so it is significant.” His voice was deep and stern as if he were growling instead of explaining.
“Sorry, I didn’t m-”
“Yeah, you did.” He glared at me, making it hard for me to concentrate. He was displaying that overbearing, survivor persona again.
“I never had a father-figure in my life until I turned nine, that’s when my mom married my stepdad.”
“I don’t remember much of my dad since I was five when hedied.” He said with a pained expression as if it was his fault his dad died.
A sharp pain shot through my core. I felt so stupid for thinking. Because I was on the set of these famous films being produced, it meant my life was more meaningful and I was better than him. He’s had a more fulfilling life than I ever could imagine. He had a mom and a sister who thought the world of him.
“I know it’s ironic, but I have a major sweet tooth, but now, I have to regulate it.”
“Interesting. Never would have guessed.”
“Why’s that?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“I don’t know, I thought most people who love sweets are typically sweet.” A tiny smirk formed at the ends of his lips as he read another fact about himself.
Ass.
“I love the color black.”
“I love the color pink and gold,” I said.
“I don’t like pizza unless it’s thin crust and authentic.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Interesting, an Italian not liking pizza.”
“Don’t generalize princess.”
