Not yet.
7
Victoria
No matterhow hard I tell myself I shouldn’t be walking this way, I can’t stop my feet from carrying me in the direction I’m heading.
The old boathouse sits at the far edge of the estate. A forgotten structure that has long been left abandoned and replaced by a new building closer to the house.
No one comes here.
Which is why when I saw him walking in this direction, I couldn’t help but follow.
The first thing I see as I round the path is peeling white paint. Ivy also crawls up one side as if trying to reclaim it for nature.
The next thing I notice is him.
My heart sputters in my chest with excitement. I knew he would be here, of course, but his presence still takes my breath away.
You got it bad, Victoria.
I blame my sheltered life.
In all my seventeen years on this planet, stuck in this gilded cage, I’ve never met a boy like him. One who awakens feelings inside me that I’ve never had before.
Speaking of the devil . . .
There he is.
Lorenzo is currently crouched near the door. One hand braces the splintered frame, and the other grips a screwdriver with the kind of focus I usually reserve for surviving dinner with my parents.
“What are you doing?” I ask, slipping past him.
“Trying not to lose a finger,” he mutters. “Door sticks. Figured I’d fix it before it caves in and takes someone with it.”
“What a hero,” I say. “Next, you’ll be rescuing cats from trees and winning humanitarian awards.”
He doesn’t look up. “That was the original plan.”
“Bet you love it.”
He looks up then. Eyes dark and unreadable. “Maybe . . . Do you?”
“You know that no one comes in here, right? You’re wasting your time.”
His shoulders lift into a shrug. “I got nothing else to do on my day off, so I might as well keep busy.”
“You’re fixing a door on your day off?”
“Not everyone is allowed to use the pool.”
I’m not even sure how to respond to that, so I don’t. Instead, I drop onto the dusty bench near the back window. Sunlight filters through warped panes, bringing a strange dimension to the space. It’s almost cinematic how the light bounces around, making his silhouette dance across the floor in shadows.
Not wanting to be caught staring, I reach into the bag I brought when I thought I was heading to the beach and pull out a book.
“Wuthering Heights?” Lorenzo asks, and I lift my gaze to find him squinting at the book cover.
“Have you read it?”
