Vincent

Ride

My cell phone ringing woke me up. I groaned, reaching to find my phone, and cracking my eyes open to see who was calling.

It was my dad.

I huffed, annoyed and tired but still answered either way.

"Yeah?"

"Marie," he started, "I've been trying you, you didn't answer. Listen, I don't have all day, you have dual citizenship with the US and Italy, they have universal healthcare," he quickly explained. "Look, I got to go, bambina, bye, love you."

The call abruptly ended.

I slowly blinked.

What the actual fuck? How fucking rude can he be? The audacity! 'I don't have all day'?

That's not my fault!

I pulled myself out of bed, going over to my clothes. I had no clue what to wear. I had no clue what I wanted to even do today.

There was a motorcycle in his garage...

No, tomorrow I will.

I will rebel like the young rebel I was!

I grabbed a sweatshirt and some jeans before I left the room, going downstairs. No one was in the living room so I made my way to the kitchen. The clock read '10:19.' I didn't even realize I slept in that late. I grabbed a glass and filled it with water.

It was oddly silent.

Sadly enough, that silence was disrupted when I turned the corner to go out to the second living room. I bumped into some fucking wall and the glass in my hand broke on the impact.

A gasp left my lips as I took a step back, the rest of the glass falling to the ground, although it didn't matter. My hand was already cut.

"Merda!"

I looked up, pissed, shocked, and curious whose voice sounded that good. It was top-tier Italian pronunciation.

It was Vincent.

He grabbed my shoulder while his other hand went to my bleeding one. I took the time to look over his outfit. He has a tan button-down with a dark stain on it that was partially hidden under his blazer.

A bloodstain.

My eyes were wide as I looked back up at him. He didn't pay me any attention, he was focused on my hand. I knew that stain wasn't from the glass, there was no way that was possible.

"Shit, I'm sorry, come here," he turned me around to go back into the kitchen.

I blinked, not expecting that reaction at all. I've gotten a lot of attitude from him, which was justifiable because I've given him a lot of attitude, him speaking to me in a kind manner and apologizing was new. He kept my cut hand in his as he neared the skin.

"This might sting," he muttered before running my hand under the water.

I flinched but kept quiet. I was busy studying his face. He looked so pretty. I noticed he had some blood by his ear. I frowned.

"There's blood on you," I whispered.

A small smile formed on his lips.

"There's blood on you too," he chuckled, "stay right here," he instructed as he turned off the faucet and turned around, leaving.

I did as he asked but I was completely baffled.

Before I could think much of it, he came back with a handheld medical kit.