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...
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POV: Brooklyn "Back to the stars. Perhaps I'll find you there." - d.j Summer #3
I don't want to leave this heaven.
Lavender and scented oils waft around the room with ease. Valentino's bathtub is wide and round enough to fit five people. The overly bright lights give the whole bathroom a modern charm that contradicts the old architecture outside it.
I don't care about any of that, though. The only thing that interests me are the bubbles that haphazardly sit at the top of the bath.
I have the childish urge to jump inside and splash the water around. I never got to do those things as a kid. My weekends were spent in my dad's office with my private tutors and piano teachers. I had to be the best, no less.
"Second place is the first loser."
"Where has my girl gone?" Valentino comes back in the bathroom with an oversized hoodie and water, knocking me out of my haze.
"What?" I cocked my head in confusion, even though I heard him. Val isn't fazed by my usual behavior, so he just comes closer to the counter I'm sitting on, placing me on edge. What we did earlier was so erotic. I only see that type of stuff in the "cute" romance books I read to pass the time.
While I'm being a blushing virgin about it, Valentino looks like he just finished reading the newspaper. The indifference causes unease to fill my chest and questions to sit at the tip of my tongue.
"Has he done that with other girls before?" I instantly grimaced at the mental image of him saying the same thing he said to those other girls. I wonder if he gave them a bath just like he's doing with me.
If I see a girl wearing any of his sweatshirts, I'll throw up onsite.
"Tell me what's on your mind, Brooklyn, and I don't want a vague response." Val places himself between my legs and cages me in with his toned arms. I know he wants me to look at him, but I still look away. I can't get the image of him with other girls out of my mind.
They are probably more mature and experienced than me. I bet they even satisfied him after, like the punishment was nothing, while I must have carried him like a baby because I'm still sore.
After a couple more agonizing seconds, Valentino turns my chin towards him and forces me to look at him. At those freaking green eyes that remind me of a raging storm. Once I'm sucked in, it's possible to look away and say, "Tell me what's wrong, baby, and I'll try to fix it." Val's voice is so reassuring that my entire body relaxes into it.
I want his warmth, his coldness, and everything in between.
Which means it isn't up for anybody else: "How many other women have you done this with?" The question is loaded and filled with something foreign to me.
Jealousy.
If possible, Valentino brings his body even closer to mine, saying, "No one, Brooks." He searches my eyes to gauge my reaction, but I keep a poker face and say, "No one?" Val just nods.
"Okay." I feel silly for confronting him about it, especially since he did all this for me. To keep myself from crying due to embarrassment, I mindlessly play with the buttons of his button-up shirt until Val grabs my hands and runs his lips over them in reassurance.
I have to look away, or I'll do something stupid like cry. When Val palms my arse, I flinch from the sudden burst of pain and say, "I'm still sore."
Valentino immediately removes his hands and quickly kisses me. Both of our bodies freeze at the contact. The last time we kissed was when I was throwing lamps in my living room, but that feels like forever ago.
Back then, I thought it would take big gestures like my name being written in the sky to even consider forgiving him, but I got wrapped up in the small things.
Like the way he would call me throughout the day and demand updates, or when he would send me food if I was too lazy to get up.
Slowly, he was putting the pieces of my heart back together, and I am loving every part of it. I dive back into the kiss without another thought. It's sweet, slow, and everything I currently need. More carefully this time, Valentino lifts me off the counter and, without breaking the kiss, leads me to the bathtub.
When he steps inside, I pull back despite the protest that leaves his lips: "You're going to get wet."
Valentino just places his forehead on mine and whispers, "I don't care."
And with that, I sink back into the warmth of the boy who has clawed his way back into my heart.
