Chapter 3

I go back to mixing aggressively and let out a little of my prickliness on the new mixture, sloshing some over the bowl clumsily. I curse under my breath that I’m having real difficulty keeping the contents in the damn bowl. His presence makes me antsy, and I want him to leave so we can return to our Sylvana and Sophie time. I’m starting to depend on these visits as part of my routine, and he is ruining my calm.

“Nope… Just changed a few accessories.” Sylvana smiles back at him, notices my mess, and hands him a wet washcloth with a nod toward me. Without hesitation, he puts down his apple and leans forward to start cleaning around the bowl I have on the table, straining as though he is trying to stay back, which is odd. As his arm gets near mine, I step back again, lifting the bowl to make it look like I am giving him space to clean, even though I am making sure he gets no closer. I catch the flicker of his eyes on me, yet he says nothing, just a serious glance that makes my heart beat faster, and then he looks away. He wipes the surface and hands it back to her as I put the bowl back down and only step forward when he moves away fully. Less chaotic on my innards that time, and I am a lot less antsy.

The phone starts ringing, and Sylvana takes it from the wall, utters something in Italian, then gestures two minutes to me and leaves the room. She takes the phone with her as she chats in fluent Italian and leaves us to it, oblivious as to why this is not good.

Leaves me with him!

Alone and undefended.

My breathing gets instantly heavier as anxiety builds up quickly and irrationally, brain freezing so that any sense of this will not break through. She never just leaves me with strangers. This is literally unheard of, ever. Normally Sylvana is conscious of leaving me with people I don’t know. She knows I don’t like it and don’t care if it’s her son. I don’t know or trust him.

I drop the spoon and start looking for an escape route almost impulsively, uncomfortable about being alone with him and unable to stop the gripping panic crippling my lungs. I need to get out of the corner I am hemmed in because it’s making me claustrophobic and triggering my need to run.

“Huntsbergers, huh? So, you’re Leeloo’s new sister?” His voice catches me mid panic and draws me back to him, weirdly cool and with the same insane ability as his mother to pull me back. I stare at him, wondering why he is even trying to talk to me.

Did I not make it blatantly clear that I’m not interested? God, he’s as relentless as the boys at school, thick as one of them too?

The reason I almost got expelled on the first day; for punching one square in the nose for not leaving me alone, and I am not against taking on this six-foot stranger.

I shrug as a way of an answer and decide I maybe want to go home now. The last thing I need is Sylvana getting mad because I punched her son in the face or lashed out at him violently. I’m only starting to feel at home here, and I don’t want to cause problems with the woman I depend on for my sanity. I move around the table to get past him, then jump when he shifts to pick up the apple he laid down, not seeing me until the last moment. In my panic to get back and out of his way, I back into the furniture and knock the table with my hip by accident, sending it rolling off before he grabs it. Freaking stupidly about being in his direct space and almost able to breathe in how he smells, his aftershave flowing over me warmly, I wrinkle my nose at the pleasant assault.

We both make a grab for the apple impulsively, and he gets way too close, almost on top of me, as we make a play for the shiny red roly-poly object on the floor. I recoil at the speed of light. Only somehow backing into the table again, dumbly, instead of away. He’s in my face as he straightens up, and I cringe, lifting my hands defensively in that split second, head caught in fear and flashback and almost choking on my sudden inhale as the full force of how he smells hits me harder.

He smells good, which is the weirdest thing to run through my head while my chest is on fire and my brain is crashing around in headless terror. He stops, catches sight of my posture, and lifts his hands away immediately, moving back deliberately, eyes on mine steadily as I heave in breaths and try to stop myself from suffocating with the confusion of feelings coursing through me.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to get so close. I’m not going to touch you.” He seems a little taken aback by the way I’m poised, apologetic, and maybe sincere, with nothing in his face that hints of deviousness. I try to uncoil my muscles to look more natural as tears bite my eyes, knowing how stupid I must look, and try to slide away from him and give myself much-needed room. I’m mortified that I’m acting this way with Jake’s brother, but this is how I am with every guy. Jake never gets close enough to see if it’s the same with him, and I am trying so hard to regulate my breathing and be normal.

“I need to go home.” It comes out so pitifully, voice shaking, and suddenly the thought of my safe lockable space is screaming for me across the street. My fight-or-flight instinct has always been strong; it is on running for the hills right now.