A lover's guide to love

Chapter nineteen

Calmly, Ava let her fingers run through the lines Pietro's muscles created in between his shoulder blades, following their movement. Her face twisted with contempt as she watched him stir awake at his own pace, one of his cheekbones a slight shade of red from where he had slept on his arm.

Where the curtains on the windows had not been fully closed the night before light pooled in the room, shadows created underneath Pietro's body like spilled wine, just like the one they had all shared together before everyone closed themselves in the space reserved for them. Foraging imaginary walls to protect their privacy, even for one night.

"Buongiorno," His voice was laced with sleep as he greeted Ava, an awakening grin playing on his lips.

His arm instinctively wrapped around Ava's waist and pulled her closer, just as he was opening his eyes to find a pair of blue ones beaming at him, pupils dilating twice their size. How happy Ava was first thing in the morning was hastily becoming one of Pietro's favourite sights, sending his mind on a love-struck frenzy every time.

"Were you watching me sleep?" Pietro groaned, his grin widening, "Careful, bella ragazza, or I might believe you turned into a romantic after all."

Ava chuckled, lazily tracing a finger down the side of his face, admiring the way it was sculpted so perfectly. "I don't think that's in question anymore."

Truth be told, Ava never thought she would see the day when she called herself a romantic. Not half-heartedly, but with the entire meaning of the word. Nothing but a summer ago she was fine to have been the furthest away from it as she could, calm with her black and white view of the world around her. Facing it all as a simple balance of firm rules that forced everyone to behave and stay in track of their life, and if she did she would have the life she deserved to have. Or at least one that came decently close. Without any distractions or complications that threw her off the path of the success they had drilled in her head to run after.

Yet she found herself in the enchantment of spiritual connections that had her willingly wrapped up in soft bedsheets with an angel, corners of smooth lips upturned with merriment.

After moments and moments of lying in bed, Ava declared it was time for their day to begin. The grey fabric of Pietro's shirt pooled around her torso before she slipped in her own shorts and black, ankle-high socks, her hair falling on her shoulders. Pietro sat in the bed with the sheets pooling on his waist, his chest bare for Ava to gawk whenever she had the chance to, assessing her with a slightly tilted head as if he was meticulously studying a piece of art in a museum. Emotions of serenity and more than a dozen droplets of lust circled in his dark eyes, tangled together in a magnificent pile that made Ava's own heart leap around her chest as if she was in the Olympics. Butterflies settled in the pit of her stomach with a bone-shuttering rumble that travelled all the way to the back of Ava's brain.

"I'm thinking of taking you guys to see Pfeiffer beach down on the West Coast today," Ava changed the subject before she succumbed to the will of jumping back in the bed, but her eyes still remained glued on Pietro. "It has this beautiful pink sand, and I hear the water's great. My parents took me there when I was little a couple of times."

She wore a proud smile, all teeth in display at the memory. One of the happiest memories she had of all three together, one that had surprisingly lasted through the trying period that had been the years of Ava's life that had been spoiled by the circumstances.

Pietro finally peeled himself off the bed, closing the distance between their bodies in slow but confident steps, sleep still a little evident in the back of his eyes.