Dark Heart (Dark Heart 1)

She kisses me, and I return it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

I don’t know for what exactly. I don’t need a reason.

I just know somehow, it’s going to go wrong.Chapter EighteenLucaThe last week of senior year. There’s so much shit to do. Turn in textbooks and football shit. Get fitted for our caps and gowns. Go for one last meeting with the academic counselors.

I like it, though, because I get to do it all with her.

“How’d you do this to me anyway?” I’m looking at her through my half-shut eyelids. Elise’s pretty face is blurred by my dark lashes.

“How’d I do what?” She smiles—upside down, because I’ve got my head in her lap.

“Make me start hiding out in closets.”

Her fingers stroke through my hair. “Are you sure I’m to blame? It was you who orchestrated everything.” Her face lights up. “Remember? The day I brought the bear and you saved me in the bathroom?”

I grin. “I remember.” I told Diamond she was my girlfriend hours later.

Elise sighs. “I’m so glad Bec’s doing better now. Like, so glad. Way fewer seizures. More alert. This medicine they’ve got her on now is a game changer.”

I’m so fucking happy, too. Worry for her sister is a heavy weight for Elise. In my English class this year, we talked about how everybody has this one thing in their life that seems unsolvable. That makes them see life in a bad light. All E wants is for Becca to be well. So it’s what I want, too. “Can I see her again sometime?”

She smiles brightly. “Do you want to?”

“Of course. This time I’m bringing something, though.”

“Bringing something?”

“Yeah, you know, like something she would want. Or like. Some kind of toy or…I don’t know, a trinket.”

She starts blinking fast, and for a second, I don’t get why. Then I do, and my stomach does a slow roll. I sit up. “Hey, don’t cry. La mia rosa…” I hug her, and she hugs me tighter.

She sniffs and then draws back so she can peer up at me. “Why are you the best thing ever?”

It’s so ludicrous, it makes me laugh. “I don’t think so, vita mia.”

“What does that mean?”

I kiss her forehead as I pull her up against me again. “Look it up on your laptop, mio caro tesoro.”

Her eyes widen. “Caro!”

I smile. “Tu sei il mio caro.”

“Caro! What does caro mean? Or cara. Does that mean something?”

“Somebody else calling you cara?” I tease.

“My dad did…when I was little.”

Something catches in my throat. I swallow. “Your dad called you cara?”

“A long time ago.” Her face looks startled. “What’s it mean?”

“It means ‘dear’ or ‘dear one.’”

She nods. “Strange. You know, we’re Irish. Or I’m half.”

“He knows la lingua Italiana is the prettiest. Just like his daughter.”

She smiles, and then I help her up. “C’mon. Before that driver of yours gets suspicious.”

“I swear I feel like he’s reporting to my dad. Is that insane?” she asks as we walk down the hall toward the cafeteria, where she’ll exit out a side door.

“I’d assume he is. Unless you really trust him.”

“I don’t know. He’s always been nice to me.” She’s biting her lip, and I can feel my dick take notice.

“Don’t do that.” I grab her hand and squeeze it. She gives me a wicked grin.

“Really?” She’s whispering, even though we’re the only ones around; our graduation rehearsal ended an hour ago.

I arch my brows and try to adjust myself, smirking as I do. “Really.”

We’ve only been able to be together twice since prom, and one time was here at school. Fucking crazy, but I guess we’re fucking crazy now. I accepted the scholarship I got from Columbia and told Elise I’ll find a way. I don’t have to live on campus, even though the scholarship includes a dorm. I guess I could still commute each night.

“Don’t do that,” Elise murmurs. Her hand squeezes mine, and I blink.

“Sorry.”

“No…not sorry. Just don’t think right now. Look around. Stay with me.” Her fingers rub mine, and I focus on that.

“Yeah. You’re right.” I’m trying to practice what Elise calls “mindfulness.”

I stop her beside some lockers, leaning down to kiss her. She wraps her arms around my waist and grins up at me.

“I don’t want tomorrow to be a half day and the next day to be graduation.” She makes a pouty face.

“Don’t worry. We’re doing yoga, right?” At Rockefeller Park on Monday mornings. It’s whoa expensive, but it’s worth it to be in the same swatch of grass as her. “And remember, I think I can meet you Thursdays after your tennis lesson. We could maybe even play, if you aren’t being driven.”

She nods.

“Fridays after you and Dani do Italian lessons, we’ll get lunch after. And Sundays when your parents go to meditation…”

“We’ll meet on the roof.” She smiles—because we’ve discussed this a million times.