My body tenses and stiffens underneath him. My brows furrow as I push him away from me. I grab my jeans and push them over my shoes and across my legs.
“You have a lot of fucking nerve,” I say seething pulling my jeans around my waist and shimmying them to button them.
“Convince me you aren’t in love with him,” he says.
“No,” I yell, pulling my top back on over my head.
My eyes clouded with tears. My anger boiling to the surface.
“Because you are,” Lorenzo states.
“I’m confused and you know that. And you crossed the line!” I exclaim.
“I stopped my whole world for you! I have work. I can’t just meander around Italy on some stupid quest to find where your dead grandmother was born,” he says.
“Fuck you,” I say breathlessly.
He grabbed the small lamp near him on the bedside table and threw it across the room. Pieces of ceramic fly against the wall and fall to the ground. I wince at the sound of it breaking.
“I’m not Finn!” He screams, his Italian anger boiling to the surface.
“No, you are not!” I scream back, my rage matching his, and then some.
He’s right. He is definitely not Finn. What am I doing? I just trusted him. I just exposed myself, went completely out of my comfort zone for him. Am I making the biggest mistake of my life?
The sound of the door slamming shut makes my whole body stiffen. My eyes stung as my tears fell down my cheek. I collapsed against the floor.
Despair flooding my body.
Confusion flooding my soul.
What do I do now?