Brooklyn:
After being forced to spend one summer in Italy with her grandma, Brooklyn always found her way back to the cobblestone streets but not for the feeling of a summer never ending, but for Valentino, a boy who radiates trouble and sees throu...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
POV: Brooklyn Summer #3 "The better the gambler, the worst the man."
The aftermath of the storm comforts me.
It wraps itself around my body and holds me tight, and I let it, even though it's hurting me. I relish in the pain it brings and use that as a distraction from the present and the destruction caused.
After the screams, thunder, and rain, there is peace that only comes after horror. It holds the survivors together in silence as the burden of not dying with the others rests on their shoulders. The city will not be the same; it will be just another ghost town of what used to be. Each building's broken pieces tell a different story but bear the same lesson for everyone to see.
Never stay for the restoration.
Once the glass is broken, there is no piecing it back together, no matter how much superglue you use.
It will never be the same as it was.
Valentino and I are the storm and the restoration.
Our past of sweet glances and nothings clashes with the devastation of our present, which is mixed with untrustworthy eyes and dishonest words that we wield as weapons to pierce each other's hearts.
We tear up a category 5 hurricane with our love, which destroys everyone around us and wipes out anything standing in our way.
It's selfish, but it's us.
"Tell me everything. The whole truth this time, please, Val." I place five more feet between us, only for there to be five more steps taken by Valentino.
He stands there and looks at me like I'm salvation and damnation at the same time. His eyes still remind me of the green galaxies that I've always wanted to explore when he lets his guard down.
I thought Val wouldn't respond until he rasped, "Give me a week."
My brows furrowed in confusion, and anger started to run a course through my veins. "You need a week to tell the truth," I half-screamed, half-questioned. This is utterly ridiculous, but not surprising. I knew I wouldn't get my answer that easily, but I'm not the one who needs redemption here.
Five. More. Steps.
"I know it will take a lot for you to forgive me."
I snort and look at him in disgust. "Forgive you? Okay, let's stop mistaking my reappearance for me begging you to take me back.
Valentino's fists ball at his sides. "If you give me a chance,
I cross the room and get in Val's face, demanding he look at me and say, "You think you deserve a chance! After what you've done, you really think that things will be all dandy and it can be fixed in a week!"
"Do you think I'm still the same girl as before?" I must look up at him, and I hate it. Valentino turns his face away from me, showing the sharp jaw I've run my fingers across a thousand times.
I swiped the nearest lamp off the table, causing the light to die and the pieces to shatter. "Look at me." LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE"
Valentino turns reluctantly and looks into my eyes, and when he does, I see the very thing he's been hiding.
Guilt.
"If you give me a chance, a week, I swear it's not just a 'quick fix' or I'm not using you because I think you are weak or gullible, B. You're one of the toughest and smartest girls I've ever met, and I know you've been through some sh*t, but you smile anyway. You put your heart into your art, and it's beautiful because you're beautiful, and I'm not talking about your looks, Brooklyn; I'm talking about your soul. I'll be a fool to ever just let that go."
Once I feel my guard slip, I start, "Val-
The look he gives me could freeze hell: "If you need money, I'll buy you the bank. If you need someone gone, they're dead. If you need someone to share your smiles with, I'm here and I will be in a million years. I know you want the truth, but just give me a chance first, please."
My mind and heart battle each other to death at this confession. A part of me wants to walk Valentino out the door, pack my bags, and leave Italy for good, while another part of me wants to run back into his arms and claim him as mine again. The whole truth of what happened that night consumes my entire being; it claws through my intestines to reach the surface of my skin. To let out a monster that I've kept locked up for a long time.
Do I need the truth to move on, or do I need the truth because, even though I saw and heard a lot that night, I know that there's more to it?
Valentino is not as guilty as I thought.
Overwhelmed, I say the first thing that comes to mind, "Okay."
Val's surprise is evident all over her face. "Okay?"
"You don't have a week, only five days, Capito?"
Valentino nods his head several hundred times before he's interrupted by the ringing of his phone. It intensifies the silence around us and makes the situation even more surreal.
I can't believe I'm doing this right here and now, at my apartment, in the middle of the day. Things like this were supposed to be yelled out in the rain at night when it's just you two in the middle of the street. It's supposed to be picturesque and camera-ready, with a passionate kiss at the end, but my life is far from a Hallmark movie.
There's a chance me and Valentino won't make the cut for the happy ending, and it hangs over my head every time I look at him, and I see it in the way he looks at me too. We're gambling with the most precious thing.
