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Chapter 60

Lana, Robbie, Maria, and I worked on calling venues and vendors to convince them to move our event to a further date. Most of them we happy to accommodate us. Some were not. It was too last minute, and they were too high in demand. Maria was freaking out; this was her senior year, and this event had the potential to create a legacy. She also had way too much to drink.

"I told her to slow down; she so busy try to make all these changes."

An hour into me being there, she was passed out.

"I think it's best; she stressed out too much when they tell us no; I feel like she's going to have a heart attack at 18," Lana said when I asked if we should wake her up.

Robbie was quiet most of the time. He called a few vendors, and I was impressed with how he handled them on the phone. I guess it was all the practice that came with being groomed to take over a billion-dollar empire. 

I wanted to talk to him. I could sense what I had said earlier had bothered him, but I didn't want to make anything evident in front of Lana. At around one, Lana started getting sleepy; by one-thirty, she was out cold. I looked up at Robbie and whispered, "can we talk?" As he set up an excel sheet for his sister.

"Nothing to talk about," He said, continuing to work on his document.

"Robbie, I can tell what I said earlier upset you."

He clenched his jaw and then ran a hand through his hair. "At first, yes. I know you hung out with Liam." He looked at me to confirm, despite saying he was sure; I gave a slight nod.

He shrugged, "I don't like it, but I can't stop you."

I nodded, "We aren't friends anymore."

"Really? I know he's an idiot I didn't think he was that much of an idiot."

"Yeah. We kind of got into a fight."

He frowned, "Why?"

"He was upset that I was friends with you."

"He knows we hang out, suddenly he decided to be a dick? Classic."

"No. Liam was more upset that I told him I had feelings for you. I was trying to see if everything was a misunderstanding. I just don't believe you are who he says you are."

Robbie nodded slowly.

I started feeling warm; I could feel my cheeks were already red. I waited for Robbie to say something and felt frustrated when he went back to working on the excel sheet.

I sighed. Fine. "I'm going to get water," I said, standing up. 

The house was dark except for the light coming from Maria's room. Still, after months of being here, I already knew how to find my way without having to flip any switches on. I grabbed a glass of water and pressed the cool glass to my neck until it didn't feel cold anymore. I sighed and chugged the water, placing it in the dishwasher when I finished. 

I hope Robbie wasn't upset. It was hard to read him sometimes. I walked upstairs, trying to think of something to say to make the situation better.

As I was walking by Robbie's door, a hand reached out and pulled me inside his room, closing the door after me. He had me pinned against the door in seconds. His lips were on mine before I could protest what was happening. Not that I would, I thought to myself. They were demanding and fervent, and. One hand was on my back, pressing me to him, and the other in my hair.

He pulled away.

"I was going crazy in there," He chuckled, his forehead pressed to mine.

"You aren't upset?" I asked.

His green eyes met mine.

"Nah." He said, brushing my hair off my shoulder and replacing it with his mouth.

"I thought you were going to be gone until Monday," I said, my voice shaking from his mouth on my skin.

He pulled away "I missed you," he said simply by way of explanation.

"Okay," I said, closing my eyes leaning my head to the side to give him access to my neck.

He pulled away and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.

"You look beautiful."

"Thanks, I can barely breathe in this thing," I said, chuckling.

"What?"

"I have a bodysuit underneath."

"What is that? Why?"

"To hold everything in place," I explained.

"There's nothing out of place," He said, chuckling his mouth on me again.

"I'm glad you came back," I blurted out. My brain was incapable of organizing thought at the moment.

"Yeah, I was sitting in some bullshit board meeting my grandfather called for on a Saturday morning, surrounded by these boring old men who were going to invest anyway, and I thought to myself I could be here or I could be at home with Lia. So, I made some lame excuse about having to be home for school and got the next flight out."

"Robbie, what are we doing?" That last shred of logic I had left asked.

"I don't know. I just know I don't want to be away from you."

I didn't want him to see me smiling like a dope, so I buried my face in his chest.

"Sleepover," He said softly into my hair, bringing his arms around me.

"I am sleeping over,"

"I mean in my room,"

"Won't they notice I'm gone?" I asked, looking up.

"I doubt it; Maria is passed out and will sleep till noon. Lana can hold her alcohol better but still had quite a bit. Usually, when they have a night like this, they both sleep in and order Mexican food in the morning."

I ran my fingertips up his arms, noticing my hands were trembling.

"So yes?" he asked, kissing my forehead.

I nodded, and he went to clear his bed from books he had strewn all over the place. I knew he read multiple books at once, but this was impressive. I imagined him reading as if he were on a carousel, switching books every few chapters.

I busied myself with getting out my dress. I was starting to lose feeling in my hip from how tight everything was.

He whipped around when he heard the soft thud of my shoe as I took it off.

He breathed out his eyes were wide, "What are you doing?"

"Getting out my dress. I'm uncomfortable, and I'm not going to sleep in it."

I reached for the zipper on my bodysuit, and his hand covered mine.

"Lia, don't," He said, his voice was strained.

"Why not? I've wanted to get out of this thing for the last 6 hours."

"Let me get you a shirt," he said, reaching over me to get a shirt from the dresser.

"You have felt me up several times, why are you acting so puritanical suddenly?"

"Lia, we talked about this."

"I thought everything we talked about went out the window."

"Not everything. Not this. Lia, I don't want you to regret anything."

"I'm not," I said, pulling the zipper down defiantly. I pushed down the suit and let it fall to the floor. 

He exhaled in frustration and closed his eyes pushing the shirt into my hands, then went to open his window. I looked at his back as he leaned over the windowsill, and begrudgingly slipped the shirt over my head; it was large and covered me up to my thighs.

"There's underwear in my last drawer."

I bent over and opened his drawer. It seemed like a catchall drawer; there were a lot of papers and old notebooks, and in the corner was a pair of panties that I wore the day I slipped in Maria's tub.

"Our laundress thought it was Abigail's, and in a moment of panic, I told her to put them there. I swear I haven't touched them," He explained, a nervous lilt in his voice.

I slipped the underwear on and felt a sudden bubbling in my chest, and started laughing.

"What? Why is that so funny?"

"I don't know. Just the idea of you being frightened by a pair of underwear, I'm sure you've taken plenty off of girls."

He looked at me, humorously, "I'm not frightened, Cecilia."

His voice was like gravel. It made my throat feel dry, and I felt myself swallow tightly and turn away from his gaze.

"Oh," I said, taken aback, "You hung my painting up."

"Hmm yeah," He said, and I felt him come up behind me.

I leaned back against him; he was firm and warm, "Why?" I asked.

"Because it's nice."

I felt a sudden surge of emotions. It tried swallowing down the lump in my throat and found myself blinking quickly.

He dropped his hand to run down my arm and laced his fingers with mine. I felt a strange tension—a restlessness.

I moved away from him and looked for something to distract myself with. The bookcases in his room had many Knick-knacks. I imagined many of them belonged to his father. They seemed old and not something a 17-year-old boy would have the time to find. I walked around his large room and could feel him following me with his eyes.

I ran my fingers through a glass display that held different colored feathers.

"What's this?" I asked.

"My dad used to collect feathers for my mom whenever he went on a trip. He liked to take a lot of nature tours and would find them on the floor. When he passed away, she did a complete purge of everything that reminded her of him. Maria and I dumpster-dived for an entire evening trying to find everything that she threw out."

"Why did she want to throw everything out?"

"I don't think she was ready to handle it. We had been told he had two years, and she had been mentally preparing herself for that. When the car accident happened, she kind of lost it."

That did it; I felt a lump in my throat and swallowed thickly. 

I looked up to see him looking at the case, he looked vulnerable, and his eyes were glassy, and I felt this current of protection run through me; I padded over to where he was standing and wrapped my arms around his waist.

"Don't worry, Lia," He murmured, and I realized that despite my attempts at holding it together, a few tears had escaped.

"It's been a long day," I said, pulling away and dabbing my eyes. 

"Do you want to lie down?" He asked. I gave a slight nod but continued to look around his room. I felt nosy and greedy for more, and he hadn't given me any complaints yet. "Do you play?" I said, pointing to the chessboard he had set up on a window nook.

"Yeah, every once in a while. My dad taught me, and we use to play. I would play with Maria a lot, but she started losing more often and would get upset. She said she could see me gloating with my eyes," He said.

"So, you're good?"

"Nah, it's all casual."

I raised an eyebrow, "Do you want to play?"

"Play you?"

"Yeah," I said, grabbing the board to put in on the bed.

"Lia, it's very late."

"Just a game."

"Fine." He said, sitting down on the other end of the bed.

I picked up two pawns and put them behind my back, turning them in my hand and then enclosing them in my fists and reaching out for him to choose.

"Right hand," He said, and I opened up my fist to show him the white pawn.

He turned the board so that the black pieces faced me and opened with a pawn on e4.

"Why did you get upset about me hanging the painting?" He asked.

"I wasn't upset; I just felt overwhelmed. My parents never supported my painting. They think it's a waste of time," I said, opening with my pawn.

"Hmm. So, they didn't let you paint?"

"No. It wasn't banned or anything, just not—praised."

"Your parents don't like art?"

"Not really. My parents are very practical."

"And you want their praise?"

"Who doesn't want their parent's praise? At least when they're a kid. Now I don't really care for it. It made me like it even more. Not expecting it takes off a lot of pressure. Painting is the only thing I can let myself do imperfectly."

"And you still paint?"

"Mhm."

"And what do you do with them when they are done?"

"Toss them."

"Why did you keep that one?"

"Petulance. It won a contest, and my parents didn't care. A few months later, they hung up some crappy finger painting my brothers drew. It upset me more than I expected. Are you trying to do a scholar's mate?"

He smiled at me, "Guilty. It's a litmus test I do to see how much I need to concentrate on the game."

"Why did they hang your brother's up if they don't care for art?"

"Hispanic parents really love their sons. Also, my parents don't really know what to make of them. Everyone in my family has gone into medicine for the past five generations. My brothers aren't really the school type. I think I'm their last hope at keeping the tradition."

"Do you even want to be a doctor?"

"Do you even want to take over your family's business?"

"Got it," he said, moving his rook.

"What about your parents? I assume you were not the one that purchased the Pollack."

"No. That was also my dad; he liked to collect art. There's a lot more downstairs in his study. We can pass by tomorrow if you want. Maria and I stole the key so my mom wouldn't scrap the whole room."

"Check. Yes, I'd like that."

"What?"

I pointed to the board, and he gave me a shrewd look.

"Why didn't you ever join the physics club?"

"Because I already do math and science in school, and I will be doing it for the rest of my life. I need a break."

"If you weren't forced to be a doctor, what would you be?"

"An architect,"

"Really?"

"Yeah, math and art. It would be a dream. What about you?"

"I don't want to be a doctor," he joked.

"If you weren't forced to inherit your empire."

"An astronaut."

"I can see that," I said, looking at him.

"You can?" He asked.

"Mhm. Checkmate."

"What the hell?" He said, surprised.

I pointed at the board. He stared at me, his mouth gaping, he narrowed his eyes. "You distracted me with questions."

"Don't be a sore loser," I said, smiling and leaned back on his bed, my hands behind my head, and closed my eyes.  As I was falling asleep I realized that the game was too fast and he probably let me win. I frowned and turned to look at him. 

"You let me win, you sneak," I said.

He smiled and joined me underneath the covers. 

"Why would you lose? You hate losing."

He pulled me to him and nuzzled into my neck "Who said I was losing?" He murmured his voice thick with sleep.