Me and Mr. Billionaire's Son

(27) - The Truth

Dedicated to @KaylaSnow123 @ketsish @AllyKaiden @staskiah @italia_25 @S_Queen_ @glorybabas584 @lonelyloou and @alirengma for voting.

Unedited.

Just a few more minutes.

My stomach quivered in nerves, as I chanted the monotonous line to myself. I was extremely nervous, too paranoid for a simple confrontation with the man I was trying not to like.

All morning I was pacing back and forth, waiting for him and mainly building the confidence I didn't have.

I bit my lower lip in attempt to ease the nerves. It wasn't working. Obviously.

I hated this. My hands were shaking frantically and small amount of sweat was forming down the decree of my forehead.

Issac, the only source that was keep myself from panicking, left an hour ago with Nessa causing my anxiety levels to go through the roof.

My heart was beating so hard and so fast, I couldn't think straight. Everything else was a blur, and the pit in my stomach was expanding.

A pounding at the door awoken me from my panic self, shutting all the thoughts I had rehearsed. I shuffled my messy curls away, hurrying to the door.

I opened the dark brown door, bravely looking ahead until I saw his tall figure pop out. There he was... standing in all of his handsome glory.

His perfect muscular body stood in the head of the doorframe waiting for the cue to come in. The small stubble under his chin had grown a bit since I last saw him.

Other than the little change, there was not a flaw I could point out. He looked good. Too good.

The sapphire rolled up dress shirt and dark slacks, complimented his body in all the right places. The prominent muscles sheer though as if he was flexing right then and there and his black hair was pulled back, naturally disheveled as his dark green blue eyes shifted down to meet mine.

"Hey," Marcello was the first to speak and my voice hinges in my throat because of the stupid nerves. I nodded avoiding the humiliation of being the first to crack. I motion him to come in by stepping aside with my hand directing inside.

Marcello quickly shares a glance and walks past me before waiting until the door was shut. I looked back, silently praying for me to get through this. Marcello situates into the soft couch, waiting for me to say something...     anything.

Clearing my throat with a light cough, I ask, "Do you want anything?" Marcello shook his head, creating space on the couch for me to sit on.

I hesitate for a second, trying to figure out if it was better to stand or sit next to his suffocating body. I went with the latter, not taking the chances.

I crossed my arms restlessly, looking elsewhere as long it wasn't him. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't look at him the same way I did when he gave me his jacket in the pouring rain and when he first cooked for me for our first date, and that was the disappointing part.

They say the truth sets you free; that's what people want to dilute themselves to believe to feel less guilty. The truth hurts, yes, but the truth does not set you free if you weren't the one to confessed. The idea that I found out through a magazine was humiliating and sent my heart to flames. I wanted to give Marcello the benefit of the doubt, but at last he was just another handsome face.

People lie and hurt one another for the fun of it. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I didn't truly know Marcello. We went on a date, it was causal between us over the month.