Stella

2

"Um it's ac-actually just Stella. No E in the beginning. My mom wanted to name me Estelle, but my mom thought Stella sounded better. Personally. I like Stella better than Estelle." I word vomit onto the poor man.

He looks at me in amusement before chuckling and turning off the stove.

"It means star in Italian." He informs me and I have never felt more stupid.

I took 3 years of Spanish and I couldn't connect estrella and estella?

Time to Duolingo Italian.

"Mr. Moretti, I didn't think you'd be coming so soon." Mr. Lorenzo suddenly appears beside me with a slightly panicked look on his face.

"I am a busy man Giovanni. There's no time for me to waste." I turn my head to look at Mr. Lorenzo for any idea of what is going on.

"Why don't you go to my office and read that book you left here a while back?"

He's kicking me out.

Well not technically, but out of the conversation.

"Questo non ha senso. I made food. Let's all eat, sí?" He walks towards the dining room like he lives here.

(That's nonsense)

I grab some bowls and forks before walking in the same direction.

I did not want to be in his overwhelming presence, but I was hungry.

I'll do anything for their food.

Mr. Lorenzo and Ms. Laura were sat side by side while storm cloud was sitting at the head of the table. Instead of sitting on the chair next to Mr. Moretti, I sit at the furthest one making a gap between us.

"You're so skinny, cara." Ms. Laura says disapprovingly. "Are you eating enough?"

"I am." I squeak out.

Lies

Ever since I have been living in my own, working at the cafe really only pays my rent. I have some money leftover after rent to eat enough to stay alive, but that's it. I've never asked for a raise or anything just because I'm too embarrassed.

"It must just be the Asian genes." I try to joke, but no one laughs or even smiles.

Tough crowd.

I'm half Filipino and half Japanese. My parents both came to America for a better life, but they royally screwed themselves by doing what they did.

"Eat." A voice commands.

Everything about Mr. Moretti is just so intense. From his appearance, to the way talks and presents himself makes me feel so small and nervous.

Not to mention horny.

That man is sex on legs.

My shaky hand reaches out to grab the serving spoon and I put some of the penne into my bowl.

"More." My hand freezes in the air with the serving spoon in it. I glance up to see who he's talking to but he's looking right at me, more importantly the pasta in my bowl.

"B-but the rest of you haven't gotten any." I manage to say.

"It's okay Stella. Our doctor said we shouldn't have too much gluten at our age anyways." Miss Laura tells me with an assuring smile.

If I can't have bread or pasta when I'm old, just kill me now.

"Parliamo. Ho bisogno del caffè a mio nome il prima possibile." Mr. Moretti speaks turns his attention to the couple.