15. North

fifteen

North

The next morning, I'm in my kitchen, staring at Mr. Bella's junk box still sitting neatly in the corner of my kitchen table. Not wanting to snoop, I had left it untouched after seeing Rocco's football poster. Now I want to grab the whole box and chuck it out the front door in hopes that something valuable of Rocco's smashes into a million pieces.

Anger fires in my chest. I can't believe Rocco had the audacity to threaten my football team, which is my livelihood over me spending time with Gia.

I'm not fourteen.

I have no ill intentions toward Gia.

I've literally loved her my entire life.

All I want to do is love and protect her in the way she deserves.

He's the monster who needs to be taught a lesson.

If he thinks I'm giving up this easily, after all the years I've pined over Gia, well, he has another thing to learn. I may be a little slow to make my move, but when I put my mind to something, I'm in one thousand percent.

Gia's always been in my head.

She's always consumed my heart.

But now, she's in my life and I'm not giving that up.

Knock, knock.

My gaze skirts to the front door. I had been so wrapped up in my head, I missed Gia crossing the yard. She stands on my front porch, looking more amazing than ever. Her hair is up in one of the homeless messy buns she wears that looks hot. She's wearing an oversized, washed-out Bulldog's sweater. I know for a fact she's had it since high school, because she used to wear it to cheerleading practice. I'd always fight it, but many days they'd practice on the edge of the football field when we were running scrimmages. There was no way I could ever keep my eyes off her. Seeing her wear that sweatshirt after all these years sets an explosion of sparks right to my heart. It's like a symbol that it's finally our time to be together, and all those years wasted in unrequited love are about to pay off.

I push open the door, and her cute button nose wrinkles from the smile on her face. "Hey, you." I step aside, motioning for her to come inside. "What a nice surprise."

She offers me one of two cups in her hands. "Coffee Loft spiced chai, just the way you like it."

"I could get used to this service." I take the drink and immediately enjoy a sip. It's lukewarm, but still delicious.

"I was downtown with Dad for lunch, so I stopped in. Portia mentioned you broke your routine and hadn't come in for your morning coffee. I know how you are with routines, and it made me a little concerned." Her gorgeous green eyes travel over my face. "Is everything okay?

"Yeah." I pause, not wanting to lie to her. I'm an overly honest person, but I don't want to cause her to worry. I certainly don't want to give her a reason to pause us. I nonchalantly pat my abs. "My stomach is having sort of an off day. I hadn't left the house yet."

"That's no good."

I wave, dismissing her concern. "If I had to diagnose this, I'd say it was mostly related to butterflies." That earns me a raised feathered eyebrow and a flirty smile, and I tack on, "I have no idea what species they are, but they moved in last weekend, and it's clear they're taking over."

My heart swells from her joyful giggles, and we lock our gazes and stand frozen. The corners of her eyes crinkle in the cutest way as she retorts back, "I'm afraid they aren't butterflies."

"They aren't?"

"Nope, not for you. You're more special. You have little baby axolotls in there, hopping around."

"I do?" Our laughter mingles together perfectly in sync. "I think you're right. That's exactly what I have."

She takes a step further into my kitchen, glancing around. "It's been years since I've been here. Not much has changed, huh?"

"Nope. When my parents moved, I left everything exactly as it was. You know me." I wink and shoot a playful finger gun at her. "I like routines."

As she continues to look around, she tosses me a smile that transforms her face. It's flirty, but yet it has the sort of expression that says she's testing me.

I step behind her. "Are you looking for something specific?"

"Nah, just seeing what your life is like."

I casually extend my arm, ushering her further in. "You're welcome to take a tour. Mi casa es su casa."

"Oh." Her eyes round, glinting with bright green specs. "Are we at that stage already?"

"Baby," I tease, my voice lower than normal. "I'll meet you at any stage you want. You tell me. What stage are we at?"

She holds my gaze, and I don't waver as I'm ready to see this through.

She's all I ever wanted.

Her teeth dig into her plush bottom lip, flushing it to a darker pink, and I can literally see the wheels turning in her pretty little head. The anticipation of her next words makes those stomach axolotls come alive. They're gearing up to swim a marathon. She can say anything, and I will agree.

Does she want to be my girlfriend?

Yeah, I'm there.

Heck, does she want to get engaged?

I will run to the jewelry store with bare feet.

Would she prefer to skip the engagement and get married?

Vegas, here we come!

I don't want to close my eyes, but if I do, all I will ever see is her beautiful face etched into my brain.

Because it's already been there forever.

She's etched into my soul.

"Gia," I whisper, my voice growing with concern because she hasn't answered me yet. "What do you think this is?"

"I didn't think we were allowed to put a label on it yet." Her cadence is slow, as if she is weighing each word carefully before allowing it to make a sound.

My heart deflates. That doesn't sound like someone who's all in. Maybe she's not ready?

" We don't need a label," I rush to downplay everything. My inflections mirror her cautionary ones. "But I want you to know I've enjoyed spending time with you."

Her lashes flutter, the way they always do when she's trying to avoid blushing. "Me, too."

"Good," I assert, pulling my lips in, and biting hard, as it's a struggle. Her hesitation to put a label on us makes me think she might not be ready yet.

A horrible thought enters my brain. What if she's just being nice to me so I'll help her clean out all that junk? Even if that is the case, I offered to help, and I'm a man of my word. I jerk my thumb over my shoulder at the door. "What do you say, I help you clean another stack of boxes?"

"Well, I'm hoping to take a load of boxes to the dump. Would you want to help with that?"

"Yeah." I slip on my tennis shoes and grab my keys. "Let's go throw out some trash." Loving how the least desirable chore in the world can feel like I won the lottery when I get to be next to Gia, I'm unable to stop grinning as we stroll through the door together, and head back across the yard toward Mr. Bella's loaded-down-with-junk truck.

It only takes about an hour to drop everything off, and when we return, we spend the rest of the day cleaning more boxes. This time we find a stamp collection, and something a little odd, an assortment of dog toys—even though Gia swears they never owned a pet. That discovery made us both burst into fits of laughter, and just like all the other days we'd worked, time got away from us, and it's time for me to go home.

With Mr. Bella lingering in the kitchen, we say a quick goodnight, and I head across the yard to my house.

What do you know, I'm not alone.

Rocco's wringing his hands together, blocking my front door. "Well, well, well . . ." His sinister grin cements on his face. "Tell me this isn't what it looks like."

Grinding my back teeth together, I fight back every urge I have to flatten his smug expression. As good as it would feel to hit him, that's not going to solve anything. He clearly didn't get the hint that I'm not giving up Gia.

My hands shake, but I squeeze my fist into a ball and stuff it in my jacket—for now.

I'm not going to let him control me—or Gia anymore.

"Look," I growl. "If Gia doesn't want me around, she's perfectly capable of letting me know that herself. She doesn't need you butting in. I'm sorry if that hurts your tiny feelings."

Rocco's head rolls back, and a haughty laugh pipes out for an egregious amount of time before he finally forms actual words. "We will see who's sorry." His eyes narrow into slits before he spins on his heel and strides to his black car, parked at an angle in my driveway, blocking me in.

If this were a movie, the only thing that would have been missing is the evil mustache twirl before he stormed off. I have no idea how he got this way, but that man is delusional. I'm not above calling the cops if it gets to that level, but I just hate to do anything rash that will upset Gia. He may not be able to keep me away, but there's burning in the back of my brain telling me he will do something.