Sempre (Forever) (17 page)

“
La mia
-fucking-
bella ragazza
,” he said, chuckling. He tipped his drink back and chugged it. “You have potential,
tesoro
.”

She smiled. She still had no idea what those words meant. “Thanks, I think.”

“It’s a compliment,” he said. “And you’ll get many more where that one came from if you can do it again.”

He hopped down from the counter and poured two more glasses of orange juice, adding some of his liquor to both. Haven took a deep breath and picked hers up, tipping it back. It was a lot stronger the second time, the burn harsher. She barely got half of it down before pulling the glass away with a cough. “Goodness gracious, that’s strong.”

Carmine set down his empty glass. “Yeah, I loaded that one down.”

He grabbed the jug of orange juice again and filled hers back up to the top. “Don’t chug anymore. If you do, you’ll pass out on me, and I’d really like some company.”

A swell of emotion shot through her, the longing returning.

He poured half his glass full of the liquor before holding the bottle up. “And it’s Grey Goose vodka, in case you still wanted to know.”

*  *  *  *

They went up to the third floor. Carmine pushed open his bedroom door, motioning for her to go inside. He set his drink down on his desk and sat down in the chair, but she hesitated, unsure of what to do. “You can sit anywhere you want,” Carmine said, sensing her dilemma.

She chose to take a seat on the edge of his bed and anxiously took a sip of her drink.

“So, let’s play a game or something,” Carmine suggested.

Her nerves flared. “What kind of game?”

“How about 21 questions?” She had no idea what that was, and he took notice of her bewildered expression. “We take turns asking each other questions until we hit 21. Only rule is you can’t lie. I don’t give a shit what it’s about—just no lying.”

She took a deep breath, even more nervous. “You go first.”

Her hand trembled as Carmine looked at her, and she hoped he couldn’t tell. He sighed and stood up, taking her glass and setting it down on his desk. After pulling out his keys, he unlocked his bottom desk drawer. “How do you feel about drugs? And that doesn’t count as my question. I just wanna know before I do this.”

“Uh, I don’t know much about them.”

He pulled out a bag of marijuana and rolled a blunt. He brought it to his lips once it was together and lit it, inhaling as he crouched down in front of her. “This will relax you, okay?”

She nodded, transfixed by his proximity.

“I’ll make it easy on you,” he said. “Just sit still and inhale. Hold it as long as you can.”

He brought the blunt to his lips and sucked in deeply as he leaned toward her. Haven’s heart raced as he cocked his head to the side, pausing when his lips were an inch from hers. She inhaled as he exhaled, the smoke from his lungs infiltrating her system. She closed her eyes as everything clouded, only letting go when she needed some air. Exhaling slowly, she opened her eyes to see Carmine still in front of her. He’d moved his head back, his staggering expression almost burning more than the smoke.

“Question one—how did you practice reading if you weren’t allowed to have any books?”

She blushed. “I took a book that belonged to my first master.”

“Why does that embarrass you?”

“I just confessed to being a thief.”

“Yeah, well, you live in a house with a career criminal. Thievery doesn’t faze us.” He retook his seat. “Your turn.”

“You’re a career criminal?”

He looked at her with confusion. “No, I meant my father. You know, with what he does in Chicago.” She didn’t know, and that seemed to strike him after a moment. “Shit, I figured… it doesn’t really matter. Forget I said it. Ask something different.”

Still confused, she just pulled out something random. “How’d you get that scar on your side?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “Christ, you’re not gonna take it easy on me, are you?”

This game wasn’t going well. “Do you want me to ask something else instead?”

“No, it’s fine. I got the scar when I was eight. I was shot, bullet ripped right through my side.”

Haven wasn’t sure what sort of answer she expected—maybe he’d fallen or cut himself—but she didn’t think he'd say he’d been shot. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I told you before—we’re more alike than you think. I shed blood over shit that wasn’t my fault too.”

Could they really have things in common? “Why were you shot?”

He shook his head. “You already asked your question. It’s my turn. Do you have any secret talents?”

“I don’t think so.”

He raised his eyebrows skeptically. “You have to be good at something. Sewing, drawing, poetry, singing… something.”

“Well, I like to draw, but I don’t know if it’s a talent.”

“Will you draw something for me?”

She smiled. “You already asked your question.”

He laughed, waving her off. “Fine, your turn.”

“Why'd you get shot?”

“Can’t say, because I don’t really know why,” he said. “Ask something else.”

She hesitated. “Well, why did you attack that boy at the game?”

“Because Nicholas deserved it. I’ve done a lot worse than just knock him down. That’s nothing compared to what happened last time we saw each other.”

“Oh.”

“So will you draw a picture for me?”

“Maybe someday.”

“Someday? What does someday mean? Tomorrow? Next week? When I’m 80?”

“I’ll draw for you the same someday you let me clean your room,” she said. His mouth flew open like he was going to argue, so she cut him off by asking her next question. “What did you do to Nicholas last time that was so bad?”

“I shot at his truck. The gas tank sparked and started a small fire. They accused me of attempted murder, but whatever. I honestly didn't try to kill him.”

Haven was stunned he’d been so violent toward the boy when he’d seemed so nice to her.

“What did he say that made you smile?” Carmine asked.

“He told me a joke about a deer.”

He rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t count as my question. Have you ever been kissed?”

She shook her head slowly, feeling inadequate. “That probably makes me seem immature…”

“Not at all. I shouldn’t have asked that one. It just kinda came out.” He shifted around in his seat. “Hell, I haven’t either, technically speaking, since I don’t kiss on the lips.” He paused again. “And that probably makes me seem like an asshole, that I can have sex with them but not kiss.”

“How many girls have there been?”

He dropped his head at her question. “I don’t know. A dozen and a half plus two or three, maybe.”

“So twenty or twenty-one?”

He peeked at her. “You’re quick at math. I don’t keep a list around, but that’s about right. And that’s ridiculously high, I know.”

He looked upset by his own answer, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he regretted some of those girls. She smiled, trying to be reassuring, but he just groaned. “New subject. Question number… whatever fucking number we’re on. When’s the most afraid you’ve been?”

“Maybe in your father's room.”

Carmine nodded like he expected that answer and turned away from her to grab his drink. “Your turn.”

“Where’s your mom?”

She’d blurted it out without thinking, and her hands covered her mouth as Carmine froze, his glass mid-air.

“Chicago,” he said after a moment, setting his glass down without taking a drink. He turned back to her, his blank expression surprising her almost as much as his answer.

“Chicago?”

“Actually, it’s Hillside, just a few miles outside of Chicago.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway,” he said, “what’s your favorite color?”

“Green.” Her cheeks flushed as she blurted out the answer. She lay back on his bed to avoid his gaze.

The bed moved as he sat down beside her. Her eyes shot to his as he stared down at her. “Your turn.”

“What’s your favorite color?” She was too flustered to think of anything else to ask.

“I’m torn between deep brown and this certain shade of pinkish-red right now. Looks kinda like my tie.”

Her blush deepened, and she had to look away from him as her heart raced.

“My turn,” he said. “Why’s green your favorite color?”

“Pass,” she said.

“You can’t pass.”

“But you didn’t answer some questions.”

“Fine, I’ll ask something else. Why are you embarrassed about your favorite color?”

Her brow furrowed. “I just passed on that question.”

“No, you passed on why green was your favorite color. Now I wanna know why green being your favorite color is embarrassing. Two completely different things.”

He spoke matter-of-fact, as if it were just that simple.

“I think you’re cheating,” she said. “So I pass again.”

Carmine laughed as he reached for the blunt and relit it. She was mesmerized at the calmness of his expression as he inhaled, and he smiled when he saw her looking. Goose bumps popped up on her skin at the sight of him. She wasn’t sure if it was the intoxicants, but something made her feel at ease. She felt safe there, and as frightening as that concept was, she basked in the sensation. Because never in her life, even as a child, did she ever feel like she was safe with someone—not even her mama. From the beginning she knew her mama couldn’t protect her, as much as she may have wanted to.

Haven realized then she trusted him. She’d never trusted anyone in her life. And she knew she shouldn’t, especially him of all people. He was the son of the man who controlled her—his family held her life in their hands. They could hurt her or even kill her, and she'd be defenseless to stop it. But she trusted him, anyway.

She could feel it in every inch of her body, every beat of her frenzied heart. He consumed her, and she was powerless to stop it.

The thought of it made her stomach churn.

Carmine leaned forward, pausing when he was an inch from her mouth. She parted her lips and inhaled everything he gave her, closing her eyes as she tasted his breath.

She felt his face graze against her cheek, the sparks from his skin sending tingles through her body. She could feel the slight stubble of his facial hair, rough and scratchy, as he inhaled deeply. He was breathing her in, and at that moment, she allowed herself to wonder if maybe—just maybe—this frightening creature could want the same thing she craved.

He broke the connection by pulling away. She held on as long as she could, not wanting to let go, but her body’s need for oxygen won. She exhaled as Carmine got up, but she kept her eyes closed. She didn't want to face reality yet.

*  *  *  *

Carmine slipped out of the bedroom, needing to put some space between them. She had him twisted. Up was suddenly down, left was now right, and everything surrounding him was just a fucking blur. She was innocent and pure, unlike anyone he’d met before. And he knew it was selfish of him to get her intoxicated, but he wanted to get to know the real her. He wanted her to be at ease.

It was difficult for him to admit he was just as inexperienced as her. He could fuck a girl senseless, but when it came to loving one, he had no clue what to do. Love? The word horrified him.

He walked over to the library and flicked on the light. Blinking a few times, he scanned the titles on the bookshelves. He stopped when he reached the book he was looking for and grabbed it before heading back to the bedroom. Haven was lying on her stomach on his bed, her feet up by his pillows. He gave her a small smile and shut the door behind him, holding the book out to her. “It’s called
The Secret Garden
. I thought you might like it.”

She took it. “What's it about?”

He shrugged. “A garden, maybe? A secret? I don't know. Read it and tell me.”

Her eyes widened as she glanced down at the book in her hands. “Uh…” she started, her brow furrowing as she eyed the cover.

He chuckled at her reaction, amused she was getting flustered over a book. “Look, you don’t have to read it. I’m not gonna quiz you on the shit or make you write a book report. I just thought it would give you something to do.”

“Oh no! I want to! It’s just… what if your father finds it?”

“Don’t worry about him,” he said. “I got you covered.”

Her eyes glossed over with tears. It was just a book to him, but he had a feeling it was a lot more to her. Opening it halfway, she scanned a page. “I don’t think I can read this.”

“Why?”

“There are a lot of different words.”

He laughed. He’d expected her to say it was too scandalous or something, not that it was too difficult for her to read. “Well, I think you can do it. Besides, you have help now.”

“Help?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you don’t want help with reading, that’s fine, but I’d be happy to do what I can.”

She looked down at the book again. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoed her word. “Is that an, ‘Okay, I’d like to do this whole reading shit with you,’ or is it an, ‘Okay, you’re really fucking nuts if you think you’d be able to help me?’”

She merely smiled, the sight of it telling him it was probably a combination of the two.

He kicked off his shoes and sat down on the bed beside her. “I’m glad to be out of those damn things.”

“You looked handsome tonight.”

“Thanks. Could've done without the tie, though.”

She giggled, and he had the sudden urge to tell her she was beautiful. The words almost came out, but before they could, she turned away from him. He sighed and remained quiet, annoyed he wasted the opportunity.

He grabbed his guitar and played a few chords as she read the book. It made him feel warm inside, and for a while, it almost felt like it was normal. Just a boy sitting with a girl, both of them a bit fucked up in their own ways, but they were just themselves.

And he cherished it.

He tried to keep his attention off of her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, but from the corner of his eye he could see the look of concentration on her face as she sounded out words. “Carmine, what does tyrannical mean?”

“It’s like a tyrant, someone who forces their way into power, I guess. You know, like a master.”