Manual of The Forbidden ➡ Irwin

Chapter 39.

The guy smiled at me stretching his pink lips and then stretched his hand out for me to shake it.

“Hello.” He spoke with his heavy Italian accent present in his mouth.

I took his hand in mine returning the polite gesture and smiled; as I didn’t say anything he spoke to Ashton again.

“Neanche parla inglese?” he asked, confused. (“Does she speak English?”)

Ashton bursted into pits of laughter but held them immediately.

“Penso che odia questi luoghi, man no la prendere personale,” he spoke kindly. “Beh é meglio andare.” Ashton’s expression turned sad. (“I think she doesn’t like these places, don’t take it personal man,”; “We have to go.”)

At least I could study their facial expressions because I couldn’t understand their conversation.

“Ma se siete appena arrivati,” he spoke sadly. (“But you arrived like seven minutes ago,”)

“Io so, un altro giorno vengo,” a grimace drew its way to Ash’s lips. ("I know, I'll drop by another day,")

“Okay, okay, salute Sharon;” (“Okay, okay, greet Sharon for me,”)

“Chiaro.” smiled Ashton happily. (“Off course.”)

“See you later Dawn, very nice to meet you,” he said, his Italian accent distorting a little this language.

“Bye Gaspar.” I muttered shyly.

“Arrivederci.” said Ashton waving his hand too.

“Arrivederci Ashton.”

Ashton held me by my waist, and even through the layers of clothing I could feel his warm contact, I felt goose bumps run throughout my whole body like an electric current. We could finally get out of that place and I breathed clean and fresh air for the first time it what felt like forever, but that made me think of Sharon and I woke up from my trance.

“What time is it?” I asked Ashton sick worried.

He took his phone out and checked it. “8:30,” he said not giving it any importance.

“But Sharon is already home,” I told him.

“I’ll drive fast.”

Was that his answer? Did I feel guiltier than him? Did he even feel guilty? These questions sounded in my troubled head with a proper voice and I tried to send them to the obscurest part of my head.

Ashton drove to Sharon’s apartment, we barely spoke on our way there because my head was drowning in ways to explain this to Sharon, ways I couldn’t find, but what bothered me the most is that Ashton didn’t seem to be worried at all.

He parked outside the building, and I froze in my seat, I still didn’t know what to say to Sharon, tonight was one of those nights where my head only worked to hold my hair.

“Okay, let’s go,” he seemed quite happy, did twenty minutes mean nothing to him?

“Wait,” I grabbed his arm.

He looked at me confused.

“What are we going to tell her?”

“Tell who what?”

“Sharon,” I said.

“Why?” the slight frown on his face told me his confusion wasn’t fake.

“Maybe she’ll ask why we are late, or why we’re together, maybe she’ll want explanations.” I tried to explain, the guilt eating me alive.

Ashton laughed quietly.