When Eloise devoured the book she deemed the greatest piece of literature she had ever encountered, she was left yearning for more. She couldn't physically get enough, so she decided to search the internet up and down for the next sequel or even bon...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
8th of October, 2005.
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
I couldn't get enough.
I couldn't even bring myself to put the book back on my shelf. I just kept staring at the last page, the last sentence, the last word. My hand gripping the cover but not shutting the book.
I'll steal a few breaths from the world for a minute. And then I'll be nothing forever. If this is what it takes to free her, to save her.
That's it. That's how the book ended. But it wasn't enough. It couldn't be enough. I needed more. I needed to know what happened next, to feel the rush of the star-crossed forbidden love coursing through my veins again. My mind raced with possibilities, spinning out scenarios where she was freed, where their love could flourish without the shadows of secrecy and danger.
I found myself tracing the words with my fingers, as if I could pull the characters from the pages and into my world. I needed them to be real, needed their story to continue, to never end. The thought of closing the book felt like a betrayal, like I was abandoning them to their fate.
Desperation surged within me. I grabbed the book and rushed to my desk, my fingers still gripping the cover as if it might vanish if I let go. I turned on my computer, the screen flickering to life as I quickly went to Facebook. I had to find the author. I had to know if there was more, if there were sequels or hidden chapters that could sate this unexplained insatiable need of mine.
I typed the author's name with feverish intensity, my heart pounding as I scanned through the search results. There—her account. Martina Allesio. My pulse quickened as I clicked on it, my eyes devouring every post, every comment, every hint that there might be more to the story I had fallen so deeply in love with.
But there was nothing mentioned about it. All the new posts were about her upcoming books, her latest releases, and updates on her writing journey. Scrolling through her timeline, my heart sank. Other than a few comments from readers asking about a sequel for this novel, there was no other talk about it. No continuation, no hints of another installment, nothing to suggest that the story would go on.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, a mix of frustration and determination burning in my chest. I bit on the tip of my nail, blinking at the screen until my eyes fell on the date of the random post showcased in front of me. 2005.
My eyes widened a fraction, an idea popping into my mind. I quickly flipped the book, scanning the back cover for a date. The date it was released. 1999. I sighed in annoyance, gritting my teeth as I stared blankly at the screen. Facebook is only two years old, and by the time everyone started using it, it was already halfway through 2004 or maybe even the beginning of 2005. Martina doesn't exactly look like she was one of the first people to hop on here and create an account.
But she could have still promoted it the moment she had an account, even though it's an old release.
Letting out a breath, I grabbed the mouse again, letting the tip of my finger scroll down her page, feeling like there was nothing I could lose anyway. But then my fingers halted when I spotted something on the way. A post. A post of the author and a young man, a really handsome one. He looked my age, maybe roughly a few years older. They were standing close together, smiling at the camera, his arm draped casually over her shoulders. The caption read, "celebrating with my favorite person."
But I didn't really care about anything else at that moment. I was lost in his face, his features captivating me completely. He had a strong jawline, slightly stubbled, and deep-set eyes that seemed to hold a world of its own. A world away from this one. I tilted my head, clicking on the picture, zooming in on his face until it fitted my small screen. His hair was tousled in a way that looked effortlessly stylish, and his smile.
It was then that I realized he looked oddly familiar, like a character sprung to life from the very pages that had enraptured me. My heart quickened, a strange thrill coursing through me as I clicked on his tagged account without thinking, hoping it wasn't private, for more clues about his identity.
As his profile loaded, my breath caught in my throat. Matteo Allesio. He wasn't just anyone; he was a young, rising star in the culinary world. He wasn't just the author's son, but a very famous chef with a ton of followers. His page was filled with posts about his restaurant, pictures of exquisite dishes, and snippets of glowing reviews from renowned food critics. Each post was accompanied by countless comments praising his talent and charm.
My eyes darted from post to post, drinking in every detail of his life. He was charismatic, confident, and clearly adored by many. There were photos of him in chef's whites, standing proudly in his kitchen, and candid shots of him laughing with his staff. Every image, every word written about him only intensified the allure.
He even had a cooking show. That's why he was familiar then. I'm not much of a cooking show enthusiast, but I may have caught glimpses of him on TV before.
I didn't notice how much time had passed until I saw the "No more posts" message on my screen. I had scrolled through his entire page, completely lost in his world. Each photo, each post had pulled me deeper, ensnaring me in the intricate web of his life.
His brown eyes held a mysterious allure, as if they harbored secrets waiting to be discovered. Like a secret world, a hidden gem waiting to be snatched. Waiting for the right person to keep it safe, away from everyone, from every world in the universe. Someone to keep it safe to themselves, protect forever.
I wanted to be that someone.
I liked everything about him. The way he carried himself with confidence, the way his passion for cooking shone through in every image, the way his fans adored him. I could almost hear his laugh through the screen, except I didn't know what his laugh sounds like. And that I didn't like very much. I wanted to know. I wanted to know more, to know a lot. He was more than just a handsome face; he was a world I wanted to step into, a life I wanted to intertwine with mine.
But any rational person would think this was impossible. What were the odds of me even accidentally stumbling across him on the street? He was a famous, rich young chef, the son of a beloved and renowned author. At just twenty-three, he was a college senior with a life most people could only dream of. Matteo was already making a name for himself with his cooking show and acclaimed restaurant.
And me? I was just a girl with a creepy crush, sitting in my bedroom past midnight, obsessing over him through a screen. The disparity between our lives was glaring. He was living a magnificent life, surrounded by adoration and success, while I was lost in a fantasy, yearning for a connection that seemed utterly out of reach.
However, I'm not that rational person. The distance, the differences—they only fueled my determination. of that mattered as much as the desire now burning within me. Seeing him through a screen was no longer enough. I needed to be a part of his world, to weave myself into the fabric of his life just as he had unknowingly woven himself into mine.
I'm going to be a part of his extraordinary world one day. I'm going to meet him, to know everything about him, to understand the keys to his heart, to his soul. I already envisioned our encounter, the way his eyes would light up with recognition, the way his smile would be just for me. Until I become his extraordinary world.
