“I…” I trail off, suddenly unsure of myself.
God, what am I even doing? I sound unhinged. I followed him outside to accuse him of what, exactly? Eating in public?
Cristiano watches me struggle, his expression unreadable. Like he’s giving me time to hear how crazy I sound.
“Mina.” He says my name gently, almost tenderly. “I’m not following you. I promise. But if it bothers you that I come here, I won’t anymore.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t come here,” I whisper, desperately backpedaling. My face is burning. I can feel the girls watching us, probably wondering who this nobody is who’s confronting their golden boy and making a fool of herself.
“It’s okay. If my presence makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stay away.” He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “It’s just a pizza place. There are others.”
I don’t know what to say. I came out here ready for a fight, and he’s defused it all with a few calm words and an offer to accommodate me.
I take a shuddering breath. He sounds sincere. He looks sincere. And I feel about two inches tall.
“Haven’t I always done what you asked?” he adds quietly. “You told me to stay away. I stayed away, Mina. I think I’ve earned a little credit.”
“Okay,” I hear myself say. “Okay.”
Cristiano gives me a smile, almost boyish, like the fifteen-year-old who used to wait for me at the school and carry my backpack on his shoulder.
“It was good to see you, Mina,” he says. “Take care of yourself.”
And then he walks away, hands in his pockets, rejoining his friends like nothing happened.
I stand on the sidewalk, watching him go, my heart still racing, feeling like an utter fool.
“What was that about?” Katrina appears at my elbow, Priya beside her, both of them looking between me and Cristiano’s retreating back with undisguised curiosity.
My face is burning. It’s too embarrassing to admit even to my friends that I just accused Cristiano Montoni of being obsessed with me, and I came off sounding like I’m the one obsessed with him. Any second now, Cristiano’s friends are going to break into peals of laughter when he tells them what I said, and they’ll all turn to stare at me.
I hurry toward the parking lot where Priya left her car. “Nothing. Let’s go. I need to get out of here.”
7
Cristiano
Mina walks away from me, and it takes every ounce of strength I possess not to go after her. I drink her in like a man dying of thirst, because this is all I get. These stolen moments. These glimpses. The way she moves, graceful and lovely in her jeans and cropped tee, completely unaware of what she does to me.
I know that top she’s wearing. She bought it three weeks ago at a store on Maple Street. I know those jeans. Her favorite pair she wears when going out with friends. I know the lip balm I handed back to her is strawberry flavored, because I watched her buy it.
She’s the only thing I think about. The first thought when I wake. The last thought before I sleep.
The ache that never stops.
Her shoulders are hunched, still tense from our conversation, where it took all my self-control not to give a single thing away. I want to smooth away her tension with myhands, pull her against me and bury my face in her hair. I want to feel her heartbeat against my chest. I want to hear her say my name the way she used to, soft and sweet, like I’m precious to her.
I want. I want. I want.
It’s all I ever do anymore.
Mina.
Priya’s beat-up Honda pulls out of the parking lot, and I track it until the taillights disappear around the corner. Mina’s in the back seat. I can just make out her profile through the rear window, her head bowed, cheeks probably still burning with embarrassment.
She thinks she’s paranoid. She thinks she’s the crazy one. I stood there and watched her confidence crumble. Watched her doubt her own instincts. But what choice did I have but to lie to her when the truth would destroy the last chance I have with her?
I’ll do it all over again tomorrow if I have to.
