Skylar Jones was adopted into an old Italian aristocratic family when he was ten. His life goes under the strict control of his stepfather, Count Massimiliano De Angelis. Sky is a good boy and obeys the rules. One thing only he keeps to himself, his...
I turn the shower on, adjusting the water temperature as cold as I can stand without it being unpleasant, and sit on the floor resting my forehead on my knees. I feel as if I have not only been at work until lunch and spent all the afternoon in a cozy restaurant, but like I have just climbed Mount Everest. I am also fuming. Not that I can be mad at Luca for long, but I love my car and I am not happy at all that he wrecked it, in a street race at that, most likely because of a stupid bet. Can it even be more irresponsible? I could never understand his attitude towards money and expensive things, maybe because I did not have many of them in the first ten years of my life. I was reminded what it was to have limited means during my studies, too. My brother is not a bad person. He spends a lot on charity and does not pour money down the drain just like that. And still, how a brand new car can mean nothing to someone is beyond me.
Jason is not of that type. I think he is more like me. My father no doubt pays him an astronomical salary, and yet he prefers to eat in a small street trattoria and does not care that his jacket is Prada. I would not say he is full of common sense, but I am sure he would not crush a Lamborghini just for fun.
Why can't I live in a small apartment which will always be in an artistic mess, on a narrow street, hidden among the ochre buildings of an old neighborhood? I would paint all day, and run for freshly baked Brutti ma buoni* with hot espresso when I get hungry.
*Brutti ma buoni - literally 'ugly but good', popular Italian biscuits with hazelnut or almond flavour
I might earn nothing from my paintings and have to work nights as a waiter, but I would still be so much happier than in a luxury penthouse on top of the most modern skyscraper in the business district. I am forced to interact with agents and supermodels... Holy smokes! This is not a job. It is a roller coaster ride.
I sigh heavily, slowly stand up and pour a handful of shampoo on my head. How exactly should an ordinary person behave with a famous fashion model? The guy must be moody, probably grumpy, temperamental... haughty as well. It will be a hit-or-miss situation. Mauricio will not like me at all, because he is used to interacting with beautiful, confident people. I am none of those. What shall I do?
"Oh, fuck!" I yell at the burning sensation when a considerable quantity of foam gets into my eyes.
"Are you all right?" Luca shouts from the living room. "The Chinese takeout is here. I also bought a bottle of the best whiskey I could find around. Are you sure you still want to take a nap? A good drink is a much better way to relax, I swear. This movie sucks. I don't want to watch it for another hour."
"Fine!" I reluctantly agree, walking out of the bathroom, wrapped in my favorite fluffy robe, and still rubbing my stinging eyes. "Change of plans. You will help me with an urgent problem."
"What problem?" Luca curiously asks, lively jumping up from the sofa. "Whoa! Your eyes. They are blood red and puffy. Have you been crying?"
"Shut up! Of course not. Why would I cry? I just got some shampoo in them." I pull the remote out of his hand and switch off the TV set. "A romantic comedy? I am not surprised you are already bored."
"As if you have anything else." He points at my DVD collection and accusatory adds. "How is it possible? Not a single action, or a crime mystery at least."
"I have the complete Star Wars collection," I mumble.
"Oh?" My brother starts to cackle. "I'm sure you will be utterly surprised to learn it, but that one is a romantic movie, too."
"Mhm." I grab a spring roll from the plate on the table, instantly adorning my white towel with a large grease stain. Luca shakes his head. I ignore it and stuff the delicious food in my mouth. "We are 'oing a little re'earsal. You wiw teaw me how to be'ave tomo'ow at the meawing with Maurizio."
"What?" He snorts. "Chew your food and swallow first, then speak."
"A rehearsal," I repeat. "How to be cool at the meeting."
"Ah, sure." He generously agrees, but his expression says it all. He does not think there is any point in trying.
"Am I really such a hopeless case?" My shoulders drop. I start to rub the ugly stain only to make it three times bigger.
"No!" Luca pulls the towel out of my hand and shoves a glass of whisky in its place, clinking his own against it. "You never get it, do you? Drink!"
I take a big gulp of the burning liquid and shiver.
"I will give you some tips on how to control the nervousness." He smiles and starts rubbing my back. Luca used to do it when I was a kid and freaked out about a coming test at school. It always calmed me. "But you do not need a rehearsal, fratellino. All you need to do is be yourself."
"Are you kidding me?" I protest. "I am clumsy, always blush like a ripe tomato, and either I am silent or only talk nonsense. A total disaster."
"On the contrary. This is exactly where your charm lies. Everything will be fine."
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Brutti ma buoni cookies
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A/N
Hello, at the end of Chapter 22.
Thank you so much for reading and supporting ❤️❤️❤️
Is Luca right?
I watched a survey where psychologists discovered that the participants considered clumsy people more cute.
Do you agree?
Do you like shy, clumsy people or they more often annoy you?
Share your thoughts, criticize if you think it is necessary and don't forget to vote and comment if you liked the chapter.
