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chapter twenty
florence thompson
song: peer pressure – james bay ft. julia michaels

"You're Italian?" I gasped, moving my gaze up to Vincent where he was sat across from me on his living room floor.

We were both were sitting criss cross on the rug, playing Connect 4 after I'd found the ancient box in his living room next to his massive collections of DVDs. I demanded we play, to which he simply laughed and decided to play along even though we both knew I was about to kick his ass.

Which I did, by the way.

During our game, we'd somehow ended up on the conversation of our ethnic backgrounds and where our families came from where I'd learned that Vincent is partially Italian. My jaw was effectively stuck to the ground.

"I am," he confirmed, nodding as he dropped his red game piece into the very center of the game. I groaned, annoyed he'd taken the spot I planned on. "My father was Italian and my mother was American, we moved to America when I was one so I don't have an accent or anything."

My eyes bulged at this information as I dropped my yellow piece into the far left corner.

"Can you speak Italian?" I asked like a giddy child on Christmas morning.

He nodded. "Fluently. It was something my mother was hellbent on."

"Say something." I grinned, watching as he debated where he wanted to drop his next piece.

He finally dropped it, looking back up at me and leaning in slowly over the game where I was already leaned over the top. My breath caught in my throat as he brought his hand up, softly brushing a blonde tendril of hair out of my face.

"Ti penso ogni giorno, bella," he whispered, his tone velvety as it slipped from between his parted lips.

I felt my heart race in my chest as his gaze fell to my lips which were currently agape in amazement.

"You just told me to eat shit, didn't you?" I breathed, completely ruining the moments and causing a loud boisterous laugh to erupt from Vincent as he let go of my face and leaned back, his eyes closed.

I felt my cheeks heat up.

"I can assure you I most definitely did not tell you to eat shit," he chuckled, finally sobering up.

I glanced down the the game between us and deliberated where I was going to drop my piece, deciding to completely ignore the fact that the last few minutes even happened. With tinted cheeks I finally settled on a spot, hoping that it would keep him from winning our fourth round. I'm on a winning streak that I'd like to keep.

"What about you, Florence? Are you from Italy or is just your name?" Vincent teased, causing me to pull my attention up to him where he was already staring at me.

I sighed, leaning back on my hands as he glanced over the game between us.

"My mom was a struggling artist, she loved and still loves art more than most things in this life. When she was young, she'd take trips in hopes of finding inspiration. She took a trip to Italy weeks before she'd found out she was pregnant with me, and fell in love with little old Florence, Italy. The colors, the people, it was everything to her. She decided on that trip that if she were to ever have a girl she would name her Florence after the little town she loved so much," I informed him, looking up at him as he dropped his next piece. "So, to answer your question, no. Definitely not from Italy, I'm from Genevieve Springs. Born and raised."

Vincent actually seemed fairly intrigued by my story, making me smile softly as he nodded along, assuring he was still listening to me.

For a moment I took myself out of my shoes, viewing the two of us from an unbiased perspective. Two people, ten years apart, playing Connect 4 in the middle of a penthouse apartment that belongs to one of the richest men in the state.

How did my life get here again?

"I love that," he grinned, waiting for me to decide where I was going to drop my piece without messing up my winning streak that I was oh so proud of. "I was really intrigued by your name when I found that it was in fact not Mary Thompson." He joked, referring to the fake name I'd used on Sugar.

"Yeah," I chuckled, shaking my head and finally dropping my piece. "Sorry about that, I just didn't want any creepy guys figuring out who I was and murdering me, you know? Just couldn't take the chance over a silly app."

He chuckled, nodding along with me but not making any move to calculate his next placement.

"Are you still on there?" He asked nonchalantly as he finally began surveying the game between the two of us, figuring out the best place to drop his game piece.

I glanced up to him, finding his gaze adverted and I mulled over the question he'd decided to hit me with.

"No, I deleted it the night after you gave me your number, actually," I admitted truthfully, thinking back to the events that had taken place the day after we'd met on Sugar.

Rico was convinced it was fate, and even though I'm not completely sold on the whole idea of fate, I can't say the fact that millionaire Vincent De Bellis and Brandon Smith found their way into Glenn's the day after I met Vincent online wasn't odd to me.

"I can't say I'm not pleased with that," he admitted in return, finally looking up at me through his lashes, causing something to flutter in my stomach. He leaned in, over the game between us once more like he had earlier.

I found my breath hitching in my throat as he inched his lips close to mine, my heart thudding erratically in my chest as I breathed in the minty air that he breathed out.

"Connect four," he whispered.

• • •

"Sexual tension galore!" Rico exclaimed at my retelling of my night that I'd had with the infamous Vincent De Bellis.

I told him everything from how buttery the mashed potatoes were to the job he'd offered me. Rico was over the moon at every single detail, squealing like a teenage girl who received a car for her birthday.

"No," I groaned aloud, leaning back from him as he gave me a pointed look. "No, there's no sexual tension because we both have the mutual agreement of a platonic relationship that is simply beneficial for the both of us. Mostly me, but that's aside the point."

Rico rolled his eyes dramatically as he continued flipping through the channels of my TV, looking for something interesting.

"Yeah, and there's absolutely no way you would ever be able to fall in love with ridiculously sexy, obviously smart, super kind, and stupidly rich Vincent De Bellis," he scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully as he finally settled on an old rerun of Friends.

I groaned aloud, leaning back into my couch and tilting myself more towards the TV on the other side of the room.

"It's not that I don't think it's possible, it's that I won't allow for it to even be a possibility because we're just too different. I understand difference is key in a healthy relationship but we're on two totally different ends of life. I'm in college and he's the boss of his own goddamn business! I want to be an art teacher and he's a businessman. We couldn't possibly be any different," I sighed, pulling my blanket further up onto my lap as I loosely paid attention to the show on the TV.

Rico shook his head, something I saw out of the corner of my eye.

"Okay, but just remember on your wedding that that I'm the one who gets to say I told ya so!"

"How was your night, Rico?" I asked, urging the topic of our talk to shift elsewhere than the riveting relationship between Vincent and Florence.

"It was good, I went and got some di—,"

"No, no, no, no!" I yelled, swiftly covering my ears as I knew exactly what he was about to say. "I'm happy for you but nope."

Rico laughed a loud, boisterous, hearty laugh.

• • •

q: favorite band?

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