“Of course, no problem. See you tomorrow.” Sophia waves her goodbye, and I watch Carolina hastily leave the cafeteria.
“We have to do something about that asshole. There is no way I’m going to let him treat her like this,” Josh grumbles, taking a sip out of his water bottle.
“Agreed.”
TWENTY-THREE
Today,for breakfast, I made scrambled eggs. It’s Chiara’s favorite, and I figure it would be a good way to start a conversation with her.
I don’t want talk to her about it, though. I mean, what am I supposed to tell her about relationships? And how unbelievable does everything sound coming from me? I’m her older sister who hasn’t even been kissed, while she seems to have more experience already.
She comes out of the bathroom, avoiding eye contact. We haven’t really spoken to each other since it happened. It seems like she’s embarrassed as hell. I need to change that and make her feel good again.
We’ve already drifted apart enough.
“Here,piccola.Your favorite,” I say gently, placing a plate in front of her.
“Grazie,” she says, still not meeting my eyes or making any move to start eating.
“We need to talk, Chiara. I’m not mad about what happened. I know you’re responsible and smart. You’re being careful, and you can decide what you want to do with your body. You’re oldenough,” I state, trying to be supportive and hoping to keep her from getting defensive.
She glances up at me, sitting up straighter. “I am,” she says.
“And, because you’re smart, old enough, and responsible, do you see why this situation was problematic?” I ask.
She nods. “It was dumb of me to bring him here. Roberto is dangerous, and it wasn’t respectful toward you. I’m sorry.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. She understands what irritated me and even washed the linens yesterday.
“That’s all I wanted to hear. Thank you,” I say, reaching out to squeeze her hand.
“So, was that your first time I ruined, or…” I trail off, curious.
She snorts. “No.”
Okay then.“That was Leo, right? Or did I miss something?”
“No, it’s Leo,” she says dreamily, her eyes lighting up.
“So, it’s official and exclusive now?” I inquire, and she beams at me.
“Yes, he asked me to be his girlfriend that night.”
“I’m happy for you,” I tell her, and I genuinely am. I want her to be happy, even if it’s with that boy.
“We have some time. Do you want to tell me about him?” I ask, truly interested.
She beams at me before she launches into a monologue about how sweet and good-looking he is, what a great kisser he is, and how he has her picture as his phone background. She tells me he holds her hand in front of his friends, and I listen intently, realizing that I haven’t been asking about her life enough for the past few months.
A familiar feeling starts to creep in. It’s a feeling I’ve tried to suppress, especially when it comes to my younger sister.
Jealousy.
I shouldn’t feel this way.
My gaze drops to my hands. She’s my sister. I should be happy for her, and I am truly happy she is happy. But I can’t help but compare myself to Chiara.
Why does it seem like she has everything I’ve ever wanted?
