DANTE
***
"Yeah, I mean, I told him I wasn't interested but he keeps bothering me and I keep telling him off but he doesn't take no for an answer." Diana's voice trailed off, a deep furrow in between the space of her eyebrows.
The air fell into a heavy silence, only the noises from the neighborhood filling the gaps. My mind raced as I processed her words, trying to make sense of the situation.
"I see," I replied, my voice calm and composed despite the anger brewing within me. "I'll take care of it."
Our gaze locked into one another as she swiftly turned her head towards me from the familiar scenery of the neighborhood.
She let out a scoff. "What do you mean 'you'll take care of it'?" Her tone was tinged with a hint of incredulity as she jerked her head back slightly, her eyes glaring at me.
Diana's question hung in the air, her gaze unwavering as she awaited my response. I took a moment to gather my thoughts, choosing my words carefully before speaking.
"What I mean is, I'll handle it," I repeated, my words laced with a promise to make sure that Diana wouldn't be bothered any longer. "You shouldn't have to deal with that."
"Listen, Dante," she began, pushing herself off of the stoop of her apartment building and dusting off her pants. "You don't need to go around beating up guys for me, I'll be fine, I promise."
I shook my head, lost in thought, as my thumb brushed against my bottom lip. The words echoed in my mind, "If only you knew the things I'd do for you."
"I know you're more than capable of handling yourself, Diana," I softened my tone, hoping for her to better take in my words. "But that doesn't mean you have to go through this alone. We're supposed to be in this together, right?"
Diana's stern expression eased as she sighed in surrender. "You're right," she murmured.
"Thank you, Dante. For everything." She spared me a glance before she retreated into her apartment building.
• • •
As I hesitated outside Diana's apartment building, I caught sight of Diana emerging from the lobby, her eyes widening in concern when she saw me. "Dante, what happened?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with worry as she took in his battered appearance.
I forced a weak smile, attempting to downplay the severity of the situation. "Oh, it's nothing, just a little scuffle," I replied, my voice slightly strained with the effort of maintaining the facade.
The way her eyebrows dropped at my words showed that she wasn't convinced in the slightest. She stepped closer, her fingers closing around my chin, moving the head around to search for any bruises or cuts. "You're hurt," she stated, her tone firm yet gentle. "Let me help you."
This time, the smile that tugged at the end of my lips was real from gratitude at her kindness, even as guilt gnawed at my conscience.
"Thanks, Diana," I murmured as I followed her into the building, hand in hand.
As we climbed the stairs to her apartment, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the pit of my stomach. I knew I was keeping secrets from her, betraying her trust with each passing moment.
She pushed the door to her apartment open, tugging me farther into the small but cozy space.
"Sit there." she pointed at the toilet seat, and I obliged, watching as she retrieved a medical kit from beneath the sink.
Her movements were methodical as she rummaged through the kit, her brows furrowed in concentration. I couldn't help but admire the way she carried herself, her confidence and grace never faltering.
Before repositioning us, with her standing over me and tilting my head upward with a firm yet gentle grasp, Diana dabbed the alcohol-soaked cotton swab against the deep cut on my cheek. I couldn't suppress the hiss that escaped my lips, the sting of the alcohol sending a jolt of pain through me. But amidst the discomfort, the proximity of Diana's face to mine was undeniably electrifying.
I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as she leaned in closer, her breath soft against my skin, carrying the faint scent of minty mouthwash.
I clenched my jaw, trying to ignore the pain and the overwhelming desire to lean in and capture her lips with mine. But I knew I couldn't. Not when I was keeping the truth from her.
"You need to stop whining," Diana teased, her lips quirking up into a playful smirk. "You wouldn't be in this position if you hadn't gotten into that fight in the first place."
I chuckled, despite the pain radiating from the cut.
Gripping her wrist slightly tighter, partly from the pain and partly from the overwhelming desire to feel her touch, I quipped, "But where's the fun in that?"
Diana rolled her eyes, the smirk still playing on her lips. "You're hopeless, Dante."
I smiled, the warmth of her presence soothing the ache in my chest, if only for a fleeting moment. But deep down, I knew that as much as I wanted to kiss her, I couldn't.
In silent amusement, she shook her head. "You got into a fight with the guy I was telling you about, didn't you?" She asked a small smile playing on her lips accentuating the faint dimple on her right cheek.
I let out a hiss as she dabbed the cotton swab drenched with alcohol across the deep gash. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Diana's movements halted as she leaned away, an unamused expression playing on her face.
"I know you did," she pressed, continuing to treat the cuts.
"I'm not mad at you though," her eyes looked over my features, slowly drifting from one to another as she finished with the cotton swab.
A small smile tugged at the corners of Diana's lips as she met my gaze, her eyes reflecting a mixture of affection and exasperation. "Well, just promise me you'll be more careful next time," she said softly.
I nodded, my gaze never leaving hers. "I promise," I replied, my voice filled with sincerity.
A brief silence fell upon the both of us until I spoke up. "There's another one," I murmured, indicating the cut on my stomach.
Diana's reluctance was apparent, but she quickly composed herself and instructed me to remove my shirt.
With a slight wince, I complied, pulling the fabric over my head, and revealing the marks trickled over the skin of my stomach. Diana's gaze lingered on me briefly before she tore her gaze away from me and turned around.
"Stand up." She commanded, her voice quieter and her gaze on everything but me.
I leaned against the sink counter as she leaned in to inspect the wound. She went to touch the cut, her thumb grazing over the tender skin. I let out a sigh and our eyes met, a silent exchange passing between us.
In the depths of her eyes, I saw a reflection of my own longing, mirrored back to me with startling clarity. It was a silent invitation, a plea for something more than just physical proximity.
The warmth of her body radiated through the thin fabric of her clothes, sending waves of electricity coursing through me.
With a surge of longing coursing through my veins, I gently guided her closer, my hand finding its place on her hip. I felt her body respond to my touch, her breath hitching ever so slightly as our proximity intensified. Her hand settled on my chest.
Leaning in, I craned my neck down, our lips mere inches apart, tantalizingly close yet agonizingly out of reach. The tension between us was palpable, a silent symphony of desire and restraint echoing in the space between us.
As our gazes locked, time seemed to stand still, the world fading away into insignificance as I was consumed by the overwhelming urge to kiss her.
With bated breath, I closed the distance between us, our lips meeting in a searing kiss that set my soul ablaze.