All Gabriella Campos ever wanted was to be a ballerina. It didn't matter if she had no one else in the world if she had her dance and her boyfriend. His family and their ties to the Sicilian Mafia never bothered her before she got caught in the cros...
I felt the bus driver suddenly slam the breaks and felt my body continue, being held by the seat belt. The driver screamed at someone asking if they were crazy. The sound of the door opening made me lift myself up in my seat to be gifted by the sight of Luke coming towards me, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment that he had a flannel shirt covering his gorgeous body. He got in and our eyes met as he climbed the first step. He stared at me for a second, eyebrow raised as if I was the most interesting mystery on the face of the earth, and then started walking again when the driver complained that he didn't have all day. He walked right up to me, still looking suspicious, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
"Okay, I'm really starting to believe you're following me." He said, laughing and tossing his bag into the compartment above our heads.
"Said the person who came in later." I pointed out.
"Hey, I've had this ticket for two weeks. How long have you had yours?" He disputed, again raising his eyebrow, now in a smug way as if he knew for a fact I had just bought mine. I was going to staple that eyebrow in place if it moved again.
Wait.
"You saw me buying my ticket." I accused.
"Guilty." He admitted lifting his arms in surrender, taking the seat beside me, with a smirk that made my heart skip a beat.
And at that moment, I wanted to rip the piece of blood-pumping muscle out of my chest, put it in a jelly jar and scream at it until it came to its senses. It was because of it that we were going to who-knows-where, to study god-knows-what.
"I'm sure the monologue in your head is pretty interesting, but how about using words?" He teased, bringing me back and making me wonder if he could read my thoughts. I know, ridiculous, but I had the right to be paranoid.
"All right, how about telling me what you were doing in Brazil?" I quizzed.
"Drug trafficking. A guy's gotta eat, right?" I choked. "Heeey, relax. I'm kidding, I don't have a drop of Bad Boy in my blood. In fact, I am a real prince charming since I was there visiting my grandma."
"Okay, now you're just messing with me." He burst out laughing and I didn't understand a thing, but I ended doing the same. He had one of those kinds of laughs.
"When I say I'm dealing, you believe right away, but when I say I was visiting my grandmother, you don't even consider it to be true. I didn't know I gave such a bad impression." He complained, pulling the brim of his cap down, hiding his eyes pretending to go to sleep.
"Sorry. Mobster's ex-girlfriend, here." I casually confessed, leaning my head almost into his lap so I could see his eyes and the smile he was trying to contain, he stuck his tongue out at me, and I rolled my eyes. Very mature. It made me smile tough.
"Ha ha, that's cute." He mocked, completely unaware it was one hundred percent true.
"We try." I shrugged.
"Next time say your ex is simply a drug dealer, it's easier for people to buy."
"Noted." I smiled, for more reasons than he thought. "So what brings you to my little piece of nowhere called Conwick?" I thought for a second. I had an answer pre-made for that question, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to tell it.
"I do not know." I admitted, having no idea where I was going with that. "A fresh start?"
"Are you asking or stating?"
"I have no idea." We talked a whilemore, but the jet lag finally caught up to me and I felt myself drift offrocked by the bus's movement.
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