I wake up the next day with a weight in my gut. I want my sunshine back.
Wednesday goes almost exactly the same way as Tuesday. The only difference is she has a smoothie instead of pudding for lunch.
I spend the whole day trying to think of ways to help her break out of this darkness, but I have no idea what might work. When she curls up in the corner of the couch to nap, I stop thinking and just go with what feels right. She doesn’t look up at me when my butt hits the cushion next to her or when I take one of her hands in mine, but she doesn’t try to pull away, either. She even squeezes it the tiniest bit before she falls asleep. I sit with her until dinner.
After eating another yogurt, Ari goes to bed like last night. I go downstairs to hit the heavy bag. It’s after midnight before I drag my exhausted body out of the gym. Hearing a noise in the kitchen, I head that way to bust Lil snacking.
Except it isn’t Lil. Ariana’s grabbing a glass down from the cabinet. She’s wearing pajama shorts and a t-shirt, her hair’s up in a messy bun, and she’s humming. That weight in my gut lifts, and my world is bright again. I rush over to her and pull her into my arms. “Oh, thank god.”
I want to stay like this and hold her forever, especially when her arms wrap around my waist and her head rests against my chest.
“Hi.”
“Hi. Sorry, I should have asked before hugging you.”
I feel her shrug. “I like hugs.” After a few seconds, she pulls back a little and smiles up at me. My heart thuds in my chest, full and happy.
“Want some milk? There’s cookies.” Her cheeks are adorably pink.
“No thanks. I’ll take a cookie, though.” I reluctantly drop my arms, and she gives me another squeeze before letting me go. She pours herself a glass of milk, and we sit on stools facing each other with a plate of cookies on the counter.
“Am I not supposed to ask about it? Lil said not to.”
She shrugs a shoulder. “Can we talk about something else?” She takes a sip of her milk and a bite of her cookie.
“Sure. Tell me about how you and Lil first met.”
“You haven’t heard that story?” Her eyes widen in shock.
“I want to hear your version of it.” I eat half of my cookie in one bite. Fuck, it’s a good cookie.
“It was the first day of Kindergarten. A boy pulled on her pigtails and made her cry. I stomped over, got up in his face wagging a finger at him, and told him to knock it off. He said I wasn’t the boss of him, so I punched him in the face.” She laughs at the memory.
I grin, trying to picture it in my head. “And that was that?”
“She hooked our pinkies together and said we were going to be best friends forever.” She holds a hand up and sticks her pinky out. It says DeVille along the inside of her tiny finger.
I lightly run my fingertip along the letters, delighting in the way she shivers at my touch.
“How did I not notice this before?”
“Fuck if I know. We both have it. On both our pinkies, Luca. I thought you were supposed to be observant.”
I scowl and grab her other hand and find the same thing on it. “Damn. Just how many tattoos do you have?” These make at least five.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She wags her eyebrows at me, and my dick jumps a little.Fuck yes, I would.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “So why did you both put your last name on your pinkies?”
“Pinky promises are sacred, right?”
“Are they?”
Rolling her eyes at me, she pulls her hand out of mine and shoves my shoulder. “Yes, they are. And a DeVille promise is even more sacred than a regular pinky promise. Now tell me about these.” Her thumb runs over the ink on my forearm.
All the blood in my body is heading straight for my dick, leaving very little for my brain, so it takes me a second to remember why the hell I have the tattoos. “My official fighting record. Stars are wins, birds are losses.”
“Why birds?” She looks up at me, those gorgeous gray eyes going purple again.
