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My temples throbbed. “What in the heck was I thinking taking a coding class?” My eyes burned from the glare of my laptop monitor. I’ve been working on this app project for weeks and not getting anywhere.
Roque’s been texting all day trying to get together. But I can’t. As much as I want to run away with my rogue Roque. I still need to be a regular high school girl pulling decent grades.
A sharp tap interrupted me as my fingers hovered over the keyboard. “Diana? There’s someone here for you.”
Zio’s face was flushed. The vein in his temple throbbed. His fists clenched and his eyes were narrowed.
“You let him in?”
“I thought about pulling the Glock from the back of my pants and putting two in his head.”
“Zio…,” I sighed, rolling my eyes.
“Are you sleeping with the enemy, Romina?”
“Not having this conversation with you.” I shut my laptop, fluffed my hair and got pissed that I even did that for Roque. I was fierce. Fierce girls don’t fluff, right? I passed him at the doorway and whispered, “One: don’t embarrass me. Two: don’t kill my boyfriend and three: don’t blow our cover.”
He studies my teasing face. “He’s changed you… what? Boyfriend!” he practically shrieks, muttering in Italian.
“He has.”
“I don’t like it… don’t trust him.”
But I leave already caught in the gaze at the base of the stairs drawing me down like a moth to a flame.
“Hey,” I squeaked out. He’s dressed. I mean dressed in a full suit. Crisp tie. Shined shoes. He looked every inch of anil sovrano. The ruler.
He frowned as he studied my paler than usual face. “You okay?”
I smiled faintly. “My eyes ache. My head hurts. This coding class I took as an elective is killing me.”
“I can help.”
“I’m tempted but that’s okay. I need to figure things out for myself.”
His lips curved. “I know. I’m even more into you for that.”
I felt Zio at my back like an ominous thundercloud.
“Can I make you an espresso?” I asked Roque in perfect Italian.
“Fuck, I’m so into you,” he exhaled as Zio passed us.
I grinned. “Zio thought I should learn.”
“He taught you?”
“That and just about everything.”
“Hmm,” he stroked his chin. “What happened to your parents again?”
“Car crash. Drunk Driver. Icy roads…,” I broke off. A flash of pain filled my face as all I remember Papa, getting gunned down and the time my mother was shoved in the back of a car never to be seen alive again. He noticed the pain in my eyes and gently caressed the side of my cheek with the pad of his thumb.
Zio banged pots and pans around, muttering in Italian under his breath. “You can’t stay. She needs to eat then do her schoolwork. What do you want with a high school girl anyway, eh?” Zio turned, pointed a chopping knife at Roque before expertly dicing onion for the sauce he was preparing on the stove.
I swear Roque’s eyes which at that moment were the pure aqua blue color found in an ice cap, twinkled as he took in my Uncle puttering around our small kitchen. He dropped into a seat at our table. “This smells like home…”