𝐆𝐈𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎, a young girl who's never known stability. Raised by a reckless, unstable mother, she spent her childhood caught between drug runs and police raids, ruining her right for a normal childhood. One night when her mother go...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The smell hits me before I even step into the kitchen, roasted garlic, tomato sauce, and something herby that clings to the air. The scent curls through the air like it owns the place. It's times like this where I actually remember I'm part Italian.
I obviously always knew, but it never really meant anything before. Not in a way I felt. My mom never cooked like this.
She wasn't exactly the "gather around the table" type. Most nights it was takeout or I ate out with friends, sometimes whatever I could find in the pantry if she forgot.
"Oh wonderful, you're finally home!"
I jump slightly at the voice. Anderson stands in the hallway, pristine as always.
Right behind me, I hear the front door click shut. Ace trails in after me.
Luca and Damon apparently have practice almost every day after school, so it was only me and Ace on the way back.
Anderson clasps his hands together, giving me a warm, bright smile. "How was school, Miss Giulia?"
"It was fine," I lie.
"And please, just call me Gia."
His smile didn't waver, but I saw something flicker behind his eyes. Amusement, maybe. "As you wish, Gia."
He moves aside as I step into the hallway, the smell of dinner wafts in stronger now. Ace had pulls out one of his earbuds, letting it dangle from his hoodie collar as he follows behind me.
Anderson turns his attention to Ace, giving him a once-over. "You left your shoes by the door again," he says flatly and I noticed the change in tonality.
Ace smirks and doesn't even pretend to be sorry. "I like to make you feel needed."
Anderson narrows his eyes slightly. "Yes, how very considerate," Anderson muttered dryly, then gave a slight bow before turning and disappearing down the hall.
Once he was gone, I turn to Ace. He had already flopped onto the couch in the living room, legs stretched out across the armrest like he owned the place.
"So," I say, clicking my feet together. "Where's Rafael?"
He crosses his arms, the fabric of his sleeve tugs back just enough to reveal the edge of dark ink along his skin. His brows pulled together. "Why?"
"I just wanted to ask him something." I hesitate.
He just raises his eyebrow, gesturing for me to continue.
I sit on the edge of the coffee table, facing him. "Okay, so... I saw this ice rink on the way back and I was thinking about asking him to enroll. I used to do it back home so it's not like I'd be an amateur at it. I'm actually pretty good. Like, I even competed once, well, not seriously, but I placed. I mean, I still remember a lot of it."
