Stella

10

Stella P.O.V

"Get settled in, take a shower if you need. I'm going to go cook something for us. If you need anything, just tell me." I sigh as he finally lets go of me, my body going cold.

I couldn't shake off the giddy, warm feeling that whole interaction gave me. His strong arms wrapped around me felt so right, but I know nothing about this man except for the fact that he's an Italian business man.

I wanted to know more. I wanted for him to open up to me, but that was a two way street I wasn't willing to go down.

I couldn't tell him about my family, or why I stayed in such a bad place in town.

"You don't have to cook for me." I speak. "I'm already staying here for free, so I can do it. It's the least I can do."

"You don't gotta lift one finger, got it?" He demands with a hard glare and I nod.

"Roger that. Um I'm going to unpack and stuff so," Vincent takes my hint and leaves me be.

That was a lie. I had maybe 3 outfits in my bag? There was no need for me to even take it out of my backpack, but I just needed a breather away from him.

His presence is addicting, and although this situation is odd, I find myself craving it. Seeing how much he cared for me these few days ignited something in me. A small flame. It has the potential to grow.

But will it? Can it?

Was everything he did for me out of pity?

I don't believe that he wouldn't shown me so much care if I hadn't been hurt so much when he was around.

Every interaction we had with one another was due to me getting hurt or him getting mad at me.

My thoughts swirled in my mind, confusing me.

"Estella! Food is ready!" Vincent holler from downstairs.

I shake the feelings I had off and carefully trudge down the staircase.

The smell of salmon and garlic fills the bottom floor and my stomach twists in excitement.

"It smells so good!" I exclaim as I walk towards the kitchen.

Vincent changed into home clothes. He stands by the kitchen island, plating our food in a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

"You don't have any allergies right?" He pauses his movements and looks up at me looking a bit unsure.

"Nope." I respond and he continues to pile food onto the plates.

Could I eat all of that? Absolutely not.

But would I try to? Yes.

It's not everyday that I get to eat delicious food like this. The frozen food aisle is my best friend.

"Come." Vincent grabs the two plates and walks us over to his dining table.

It's a small dark wood table that has 4 chairs and a small platter holding napkins and seasonings like salt and pepper.

He places our plates across from each other and pulls out my chair before sitting down himself.

"You don't have to do that you know. Pulling out my chair, or opening my door." I list off a few things he's always doing for me.

"Never met a gentleman before?" His eyes hold a playful glint.

"I just like to do things for myself." I say, getting flustered by his words.

After that, we go into a comfortable silence as we start to eat our food. He had made garlic butter salmon with a side of potatoes. I thought he had put a lot on my plate, but with a single glance over to him, his was a mountain.