The Arrangement

Chapter Eight

"What's his name?" I ask, referring to his best friend.

"Gio," I smile at his reaction whenever he brings up his best friend.

The waiter comes back with our waters, placing them on the table in front of us.

"Siete pronti per ordinare?" He asks, pulling out his note pad again.
{ italian translation : are you ready to
order }

"Sì, Vorrei le lasagne originali, per favore. E lei vorrebbe," he stops, his eyes finding mine. "What do you want to eat?"
{ italian translation : yes, I'd like the original lasagna, please. And she would like }

"Oh, the spaghetti and meatballs meal please," I smile.

"Vorrei il pasto di spaghetti e polpette, per favore e grazie," he says. The waiter smiles and nods towards me.
{ italian translation : I would like the spaghetti and meatball meal, please and thank you }

"Posso dire che è un capo custode. Non perderla e per favore non licenziarmi," he smiles at us and walks off. I have no idea what he said, but I'm sure it was about me.
{ italian translation : I can tell she is a keeper boss. Don't lose her, and please don't fire me }

Nicolas sighs and looks up at me.

"What?" I ask, my eyebrows furrowed.

"Nothing important Thomas," he fans me off. "Are you ready for the gala tomorrow?" He asks.

I smile, "Actually, yes. It sounds fun, even though we're just there for 'business'," I laugh, putting up quotes with my fingers.

"We can still enjoy our time there up until we get new important information to find Ivan. But it's strictly for business, nothing else. Don't drink too much because I am not carrying you out anywhere," he says sternly.

"I won't," I put my hands up in surrender, smiling and biting my lip. "So, what's your story?" I ask him, trying to make conservation.

"My story?" He asks. I nod. "You first," says. My smile falters as I remember my childhood. There wasn't really anything good to say about it.

"Well, I basically grew up in foster care with abusive foster parents. My real mom was...the best. She'd read me and my brother Ryan bed time stories and help us with our homework. That only happened whenever my dad wasn't cheating on her. He eventually left my mom for some young girl that was much younger than him once he got her pregnant.

It broke us and our family. My mom later killed herself, instead of getting the help she needed. She left me and Ryan in foster care and I hated her for years because she didn't try to get help. She didn't try to live for me and my brother. Instead she took the easy way out, leaving me when I needed her the most. But no one is to blame except my father.

I guess that's the reason I'm so afraid to be in a commited relationship, because I'm scared I'm fall in love with someone who's like my father. It's hard for me to fall in love. But that's...pretty much it." I shrug, a tear sliding down my cheek, but I hurriedly wipe it before he could see it.

I haven't ever told anyone about that, except Sophia. But for some reason I feel comfortable around Nicolas, like he won't judge me.

"What about you?" I fake a smile and look up, seeing Nicolas staring intensely at me.

"I had to watch my mom get raped, taken advantage of, and tortured," he says, his eyes avoiding mine. My features soften at that.

No wonder he wants to catch this Ivan guy so bad...

I gasped, "How old were you?" I ask.

"12," My heart breaks for him. No one deserves to see that, let alone at such a young age.

He sighs, and I know that this is a very hard topic for him to talk about, but I'll understand if he doesn't want to tell me. "My dad had an alcohol and gambling problem. He spent most of the money we had saved up on them and my mom never forgave him for it, even til this day, We were basically broke, but somehow he always found money to continue going out and gambling. Turns out, he was using my mom's personal savings that she spent years trying to save since she was a teenager.

Everything fell apart. Soon, my dad owed some people money. Money he didn't have. They came after my mom, and dad was no where to be found that night. He just...vanished. Me and mom were home alone, and they found her while I was sleeping. I woke up and saw everything. I never forgave him and I haven't seen him since but he still tries to build a relationship with me. I keep declining his offer," he explains.

"I'm so sorry Nicolas," I say, trying to comfort him as I see tears in the corners of his eyes.

"It's fine," he says blankly. "I've never told anyone that. Only Gio."

"I must be special," I smile, trying to lighten up the mood. "I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks Taylor," he says quietly, clearing his throat.

"Do you want a hug?" I ask, opening my arms and smiling widely.

"No," he says, staring at me. I grin and open my arms wider. He rolls his eyes and eventually gives in. "Fine."

I grin even wider—if that's possible—and stand up, walking to his side of the table and waiting for him to stand up as well. When he does, I bite my lip and wrap my short arms around his torso, hugging him tightly.

He hesitates a bit before leaning down and wrapping his arms around my waist, hugging me back just as tightly. He nuzzles his head in the crook of my neck.

"Thank you Thomas," he whispers into my neck. I smile softly and whisper back.

"You're welcome."

After a short while we both pull away and sit back down at the booth.

Right as I'm about to speak, the waiter comes back, serving us our food.

"Ecco l'originale piatto di lasagne e spaghetti con le polpette. Divertiti," he says, and walks off.
{ italian translation : Here is the original lasagna and spaghetti with meatballs meal. Enjoy }

"Let's eat," he says, digging into his food. I pick up my fork and twirl the spaghetti around the fork, bringing it up to my lips and eating it, the delicious food melting on my tongue.

"Wow, this is so good," I exclaim, many people turning their head in my direction.

I mouth a sorry to the people and continue eating. Nicolas stops eating and looks up at me.

"You like it?" He asks.

"Yes," I say after I finish the food in my mouth.

"I'm glad you do Thomas. It's me and my mom's secret recipe."

"Really?" I ask. "She must be an professional chef."

"Yes actually, we love to cook. She taught me everything I know," the corner of his lips lift before he looks back up at me.

"I think this will be an easy job," I say.

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I'm editing this, and someone said something about a trauma damp? lol

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Take care my loves.

xoxo, gossip girl ;)

( aaliyah rose <3 )