He leaned against the bar, a bottle of beer in one hand. My gut instinct told me he didn’t care for anyone’s approval, which made his choice of outfit even stranger. He probably wouldn’t give a damn if my father got mad. I wished I could be like that, not giving a damn about what people thought of me, but that was a luxury I couldn’t afford, pretty much the only one. The guy met my gaze and his smile around the bottle rim became almost smug. My skin began to tingle in a treacherous way, a sign of impending danger, but my bodyguards looked unperturbed and so I ignored my body’s reaction to the guy, but I couldn’t stop looking into his eyes. Something in them raised goose bumps all over my body. Many people disliked me, but his feelings toward me seemed darker and deeper.
He turned abruptly and disappeared into the dancing crowd like a ghost. Sometimes I wished I could do the same, just vanish into the shadows, into anonymity for a little while. I glanced at my bodyguards once more, but they hadn’t even paid attention to the guy. And Amo? He was dancing with two girls at least five years older than him who looked ready to tear his clothes off.
I rolled my eyes at him as I kept dancing on my own, the usual ban mile around me. Men didn’t approach me for fear of my father and girls kept their distance so they could badmouth me. Amo waved at the two girls and danced his way over to me.
“You don’t have to keep me company like I’m some loser,” I muttered but I was glad for his presence, which said a lot about my day and my life in general. Having to rely on your younger brother to dance with you was sad in every regard.
Amo shrugged. “You are the only person I can be myself with, loser or not.”
I rolled my eyes again, but my throat clogged with emotions. “Shut up and dance!”
It was almost two in the morning when Amo and I dragged our tired asses back home. Despite the three champagne cocktails I’d had throughout the evening, I felt disappointedly sober once I settled in my bed. All the thoughts of Giovanni and my now frustratingly unplanned future returned full force.
I remembered the guy who’d disappeared into the shadows and how in that moment I’d wished to do the same, but I wasn’t someone who ran off. Even if this life often sucked, I was too grateful to my parents for what they’d done for me.
Despite my insistence to Amo that I wasn’t nervous about talking to Mom and Dad, my stomach tightened as I made my way downstairs in the morning. I could already hear Mom and Dad talking, and the occasional clinking of cutlery.
When I stepped into the kitchen, they both looked up. Mom smiled brightly, looking as if she and Dad were fresh off their honeymoon. “How was date night?” I asked unnecessarily.
“Wonderful as always,” Mom said, giving Dad one of those secretive smiles.
His face always filled with so much tenderness that I realized why it could have never worked out with Giovanni. I was striving for what Mom and Dad had, but while Giovanni worshipped the ground I walked on because of who I was, of who my father was, he never looked at me as if he’d walk through fire for me. Dad wouldn’t have let anyone tell him how to love Mom. He definitely wouldn’t have been scared of her father.
“Marcella?” Dad asked, worry tingeing his voice and his dark brows pulling together.
Steps sounded behind me and Amo trudged in, in sweatpants and nothing else, looking like death warmed over and squinting against the sunshine. The five o’clock shadow on his cheeks and chin still threw me off even though his facial hair had been growing for a while.
In case Mom and Dad hadn’t known about our dance party yet, they would now. Amo gave the barest hint of a nod as he plopped down on a chair with a groan.
Dad’s expression became stern. “What did I tell you about getting drunk?”
“I expect you to study for your math tests even if you have a headache,” Mom added.
“It was my fault,” I said because Amo didn’t look as if he was in a state to defend himself and it wasn’t fair that he’d get into trouble because of me.
Dad leaned back in his chair with an expectant look.
“I broke up with Giovanni,” I pressed out.
Mom’s eyes widened and she jumped up at once and hurried over to me. “Oh, Marci, I’m so sorry. What happened?” She touched my cheek. I was about an inch taller than Mom but she still managed to make me feel surrounded by her comfort.