Pretty Poison

Four

The slight breeze is refreshing, the crisp summer air submerging my being. The air is warm, sweet, a content smile taking hold of my lips, tugging them up slightly.

I place the rag in my hand down on the glass table, wiping and spraying a blue chemical liquid on the dirtied surface.

The sun just slightly peaks over the top of the shingled roof, a quarter circle visible. The sky illuminates with bright fluorescent colors of blue, pastel purple, and fiery red. They all blend together with a flawless ombre that stretches across the horizon.

The day was spent cleaning for hours upon hours, each surface scrubbed to death and every tile sanitized from the events of last night. I fell asleep that night where I sank on the floor, my head pounding as fatigue and nausea overcame my body, succumbing me to a forced sleep.

I shuffle around the table shaking my head to rid myself of those horrific images. I replace the chairs to their former positions around the table. As I turn, I nearly jump from my skin when my eyes connect with his.

"Hi," the boy weakly waves, his face fully visible under the hanging coach lights.

I stand frozen in place, staring straight at him from my place. My eyes roam over his clear face, his sharp nose tying together his everly attractive face. He's young, like me, yet he is so mature.

He watches me, waiting for my response but he doesn't get one.

"You probably already know this, but, uh...I'm Luca," he says, stepping closer to me, but I rapidly take a step back from him. He stares at me with a confused expression, not understanding my sudden motion. He brushes it off and continues nervously.

"Uh...um, how are you?" He asks, reaching his hand behind his neck, itching it anxiously. "I'm sorry, I'm really not good with making small talk," he apologies, his rich italian accent depicting him as even more attractive.

I stare at him blankly, wanting to speak but I know I can't. He steps a little closer again, this time resting his hands on the back of the brass chair.

"You don't talk much, do you?" He questions, tilting his head to the side a little in wonder, never lifting his gaze from me. He's brave, I've noticed, but also naive and clueless. He's especially brave for breaking one of his father's biggest rules...never talk to servants.

I break my gaze from him, returning to fixing the chairs, and he quickly begins to help me. I so badly want to tell him to stop, to leave me alone, but I can't find my voice to do so.

"I wanted to apologize on behalf of my father. I don't understand why he tells us we can't talk to you, you seem really nice," He apologises formally as he weakly smiles at me, his perfectly straight teeth on full display.

That makes two of us, I thought. He seems so innocent, so unbothered, and so untouched by the world and life his father leads, it kills me. Perhaps he is shielded by those things, or he has just grown used to it by now.

He is no older than sixteen, and it amazes me how utterly attractive he appears to be. His dark, jet black hair messy on his head, yet so neat. He shifts from one foot to the other, the movement causing his face to be in view of the sunset light. I suppress a gasp of shock from the beauty, his indigo irises shine brightly under the light. His eyes are oceans in a storm, dark waves overlapping each other and clashing together.

He notices my admiration, his cheeks darkening a few shades, and I quickly look away after this, turning away from his flawless face.

"It's kinda weird honestly...why he tells us we can't talk to you. I don't really get why, he never really said the reason, but I think it's stupid," Luca boldly states, realizing that striking up a two way conversation is no hope with me, so instead, he talks with himself with my two ears listening.