Going back to school after that was easy, the hard part was seeing Lorrie again. Every time I entered the common room, going to sit with our group in the kitchen, it felt like a vacuum. As if all of the air in the room was being sucked out. Even though I was tempted many times, I refused to leave. I refused to let him put me off, distance me from my friends. The pair of us seemed content just ignoring each other for the sake of our group dynamic. No one wanted a fight, even though it seemed inevitable. That was that.
Surprisingly, Morgan loosened up a little, whatever weird hostility she had towards me before the weekend, was gone. I decided that I liked the less uptight version of Morgan quite a lot. Without the tension in her shoulders, without the cold glint to her eyes, she is very down to earth considering everything that has happened to her. I guess that she feels like she's played her part in all of this now, warning me about the past events. Unfortunately, it hasn't quite put me off Lorrie. Don't get me wrong, I'm wary about him now and a little disconcerted by the fact that the guy I like is caught up in some kind of gang life-style. But unlike everyone else, I'm not afraid of him. If anything, I sympathise his situation. He didn't choose this lifestyle or his family, he was born into it.
As Monday and Tuesday pass, my questions only grow, overflowing in my brain. They eat away at my mind, stressing me out to the point where I have to physically pinch myself to take my attention away from Lorrie. Is there any way that he can get out of the family business? Have I put him off of me? Where is Rose Street? Does his family love him or do they simply just need him? Will he have to marry someone that's already in the gang? Isn't that a little odd? No wait, they aren't blood relatives Gen. Is he ever going to talk to me again or have I completely ruined this? Could I get over him? I've never met anyone like him... but then again, I'm not exactly the most socially-mature teenager given my past. Is Teddy involved in all of this? Is Maddie in any danger? Do I listen to Morgan's advice and stay away from him, even though he makes me feel alive? Or do I listen to my heart and not back down? Can I help him? Can I help myself?
And so it goes on, through Monday and Tuesday, driving me slowly insane. Then Wednesday arrives. The day of our next history lesson. Unable to contain myself, I race down the corridor, after Maths, towards the history room. I know that I'm early, but I don't care. I need answers, I cannot keep tormenting myself the way I have been. My head feels like it's going to burst. My heart continually aches. I can't stop fidgeting!
Bursting into the familiar room, I'm surprised to see that he's already there. He looks up from his new seat, letting me have his old one still. Good, he's still wanting to sit with me. My heart does an involuntary flip, a flip that I've become used to over the past two weeks of knowing him, making me feel slightly light-headed. Swinging my canvas bag over my shoulder like a crazy lady and mentally preparing myself, I stalk down the middle of the room towards him, passing the other empty desks. He steadily watches me, guarding his expression. I don't care if I look like a woman on a mission. I'm determined and that's all that matters. As I near him, his familiar scent of leather and spicy cologne fills my nostrils. The ache inside my chest deepens as I realise that I've missed his smell. What?
I stop in front of him abruptly, resolution powering my mind-set, eliminating the wary feeling that ticks away at the back of my mind, along with Morgan's warning. He looks so beautiful today, wearing a white t-shirt and some navy, almost black, skinny jeans. His hair is pushed to the side, away from his eyes, in a neat yet dishevelled way; most likely a result of his journey here on the bike. Cocking one of his shaped, arrogant brows, he starts to bite at his pen. I realise that I'm still stood in front of him, staring at his body and day dreaming. Not a good start.
"We need to talk." I say, outright. When he doesn't immediately tell me to piss off, I allow myself to exhale in relief. I've passed phase one. Going around and sitting beside him, in my chair, he watches me curiously, continuing to chew at his pen in silence. Eventually, he nods.
"I was wondering how long it was going to take you to get here. You're..." he looks at his phone, checking the time. "Three minutes late."
"You were expecting me?" I ask, shocked. Putting his pen down on the table, he smirks in his annoyingly patronizing way.
"Bumblebee, you've been stalking around like an insane person for the last few days. You're obviously angry with me. It was only a matter of time before you interrogated me. Given that you have ignored me for the last two days, hardly even looking me in the eye, and you haven't followed me home with a baseball bat... yet, I assumed you'd come early to talk." He says evenly. "And I have some questions of my own."
Squinting my eyes, considering him in confusion, I scoff.
"You have questions for me?" I ask. He doesn't take his eyes from mine as he answers.
"I think we have some things to cover." He says simply. Something about him seems distant, expressionless, as if he's trying to cut the emotional links between us. "Three questions each, remember. Choose wisely, don't ask me anything that you'll regret because I will answer honestly."
"Okay, I'll go first." I say, indignantly. "What is your family business?" I lean forwards, resting my arms on the table, before adding, "I want the truth, not a euphemism or vague comment. No one will know that you've told me so you're not putting me in any danger."
"Okay." He says straight away, surprising me as he leans forwards as well, matching my stance. "My family, as in all of the Italian families that live on Rose Street, run a personal protection business. What that means is naturally quite explanatory. When the first Italian families moved here together, a couple of decades ago, the founding members set up a kind of gang, or mob, whatever you want to call it, the original Rose Street boys. Even though they all blended into the American system, each having 'normal' American jobs and having families, it was a different story behind the scenes. When they moved here, Phoenix wasn't a nice place to live. It was swarming with drug lords, murders, muggers, people carrying guns around on the street, etcetera, etcetera. It was dangerous and hostile towards new comers, especially foreigners like us. The gang started off by preventing local robberies from the local bank, chasing muggers down on the street, small scale protection like that. Our parents, the originals, became respected and praised by the American locals, they were seen as the local heroes. They got good at it, training in their houses, shooting targets, learning how to professionally fight, mastering the martial arts. Who needed the police when they had something better? Protection that worked. The American government left them to it, turning a blind eye, because crime around the city was decreasing. Our protection was working, the people were happy. Then they bought the warehouse down on Rose Street, providing the perfect place to store ammunition and transport vehicles for large scale projects. We now had a base. The government decided to get involved, offering to legalise our gang as a dark, under-cover branch of the FBI. That's when the business really took off. They were given confidential missions, tasks to take down international drug lords, raids, assassinations, break-ins; everything under the sun. If it was dangerous, they were in on it. The business is still government-funded but it's kept on the down low, a secret branch of the FBI, because it is run by us Italian gangsters, not respected American soldiers. We have quite the reputation around here, earning us many enemies. There's so much speculation about what we are and what we do, yet no one truly knows what's going on behind the scenes. They all know that we offer protection to the people, families in need and what not. The business is still respected by the locals, but now we are feared also. I can't go into a normal store around the city without being warily avoided, purely because I'm Italian and all those who are Italian in this area are known for their connections to Rose Street. Nobody knows about us being a legal FBI hit-squad, that's confidential." He finishes, turning away and staring quietly into the distance, as if someone is going to barge in and shoot him. It takes me a few seconds to absorb the information. Is he being serious? Surely, he's making all of this up? He's seventeen.
"And that's why you can't just leave... because you know about the confidential stuff." I say, going along with it. He continues to steadily stare ahead at the teacher's desk, looking tired all of a sudden.
"Even if I did leave, which I won't, I'd be eradicated before I got to the state border. We have so many enemies Gen, so many people that we have taken down. This is my life now, I have come to terms with it." He suddenly turns and looks at me, swivelling around so that he's facing me. His eyes shine with regret. "But I will not let you in. I will not allow you to become stuck with me."
"Are you involved in the missions and the killing and what not?" I ask quietly. I don't rise to his previous statement, wanting to understand his situation as well as I can. It all feels very surreal, very far away from the closed-off life that I've had to live.
"Not the FBI-approved stuff, no. In our business, we have three levels to our protection. The highest level is for the over eighteens, the adults. This is the actual gang, the Rose Street boys. They execute the allocated missions. There are eight leaders, the original eight men that came to town, including my Papa. Then there is the second level, for fifteen to eighteen year olds. I'm in this level along with the rest of the boys my age, including the ones in school. When we are fifteen, we opt in or out of the business. If we opt out, we have to move back to Italy or to another state, away from the danger over here. That's part of the protection. If we opt in, like most of us do, we are trained vigorously by the eight leaders and some of the senior gang members. This training process takes two years, it is designed to make us soldiers so that we can carry on the family legacy, the business. We are given the small scale, local missions like the robberies, some abduction rescues, and small raids. Our purpose is to keep Phoenix safe, working alongside the police. However, the police are praised, we are feared." He finishes, bitterness making it's way into his tone. My brain continues to process all of this information, linking information to Morgan's story and Teddy's conversation about his family the night of the BBQ.
"And the third level?" I ask.
"The third level is everyone in our family who isn't in the gang. For example, the children, the wives, the girlfriends, the elderly; the innocent people in all of this. They help to run the business from behind the scenes. For example, they work in the logistics, communications and accounts. Really, they're the backbone of our operations."
"So you are allowed girlfriends?" I ask, before I can stop myself. He turns to look at me again, his eyes are incredulous. He seems angry.
"You're seriously asking me if I'm allowed to date? After I just told you all of that? Gen, do you realise how dangerous all of this is?" he says hotly. It makes me feel embarrassed, colour rises to my cheeks. I shrug, not trusting myself to speak out of fear of my voice trembling. He shakes his head, sighing before continuing with a more contained tone. "Yes, we are allowed to date but it is seen as disrespecting our duty as gang members. We are taught from a young age to always put the gang first. Dating is never a good idea and our parents heavily discourage it, apart from my Papa, reminding us constantly that any relationship we involve ourselves in will put ourselves and the partner we choose in a huge amount of danger. But if we are adamant, they welcome the girlfriends as part of the family. Despite our gang-nature, we are still Italian and Italian's love to love. We love family and we will fiercely protect it. Only a few of the guys have girlfriends, two I think, out of the whole second level, all four squads. There are dozens of us in training, six boys under my supervision as the first-born son of an original. That basically means that I'm the leader of our squadron, I prefer to think about it as being the bossy guy in the group though, given that I'm the same age as them. It feel weird calling myself a leader. Being the first born son of one of the originals, I am expected to be smart because if anything ever happens to my Papa, I am to take his place in the actual leadership team. Having a girlfriend would not be a smart decision."
"How do you even cope with that amount of pressure?" I say distractedly as I try to place myself in his shoes, failing miserably. Can any of this be true? Surely, he must be crazy. "You're only seventeen. It's not fair."
"I'm used to it now. I know what lies on my shoulders, I always have. I've always had my head screwed on tightly, keeping my eyes fixed on the game. It's always been easy for me to focus on training, focus on being the best soldier I can be despite my age." His intense green eyes meet mine again, filling with that familiar pool of regret, making him look vulnerable and young. Too young for any of this. "Until I saw you stood on your drive way that night, in your blue dress." Surprise jolts through me, making me physically flinch when he says that.
"What?" I question. His intense eyes remain glued to mine, as if he's finding it hard to take them away. "What did you just say?"
"Seeing you stood there that night, you looked curious, not terrified of me like everyone else. It's like you cut me open and gazed right through me. I felt like you'd slapped me. I couldn't take my eyes off you that night and ever since, I haven't been able to get you out of my head. You're never afraid, it kind of intimidates me sometimes." He breaks our stare and abruptly turns away. "I need to get you out of my head." He says quietly.
For a few moments, we are both quiet, absorbing everything that has been said. My head feels lighter despite everything, most of my questions are answered. Yet, I don't know how I feel about all of this. It feels too surreal to be true. The only noise in the room is the sounds of our bodies lightly breathing and the high-pitched whistle of a bird outside in the sun. Lorrie is tense, probably feeling very insecure given that he's just told me something that could endanger both of us. But I feel strangely relaxed, happy that he's shared his deepest secret with me, every breath I take feels lighter, more refreshing.
"I'm not intimidated by all of this Lorrie." I say, swivelling around in my chair to face him. His tall, muscular body looks tense, as if it could snap, but at the sound of my voice, I can see that he physically loosens up. He's glad that I'm not going to run. "I know that I don't know enough about it. I know that I'm not a part of your world and in some ways, I know it's best if I stay away from it. But, truth be told, I became a part of it the moment that I got on to your bike with you, whether you like it or not." He takes his eyes from his desk and glances at me through his dark lashes. "But you already know that. You know that it's too late. Honestly, I don't know if I can just go back to normal after this. I'm not going to be able to stop asking you questions. I can't just pretend that I don't know you anymore. After the past two days, I've been driving myself crazy, thinking about you too. I've already stepped over the threshold into your life Lorenzo. There's nothing we can do about that now. I'm not going to just disappear. You need to stop pushing me away." He watches me steadily, piecing a sentence together inside of his head very carefully. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, he pauses, slowly shutting his mouth again and sighing heavily. However, this sigh isn't like his other ones, it is light... perhaps even relieved. His taunt shoulders seem to relax slightly, his argument falling apart inside of his head as he realises that I am right, even if it hurts him to do so. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, willing himself to say something. Whatever it is, I can tell that it's taking everything inside of him to say it.
"You're so very bossy you know Bumblebee." He sighs, surprising me with a trace of amusement underlying his tone.
"I prefer the word, assertive." I reply, returning his amused tone. He opens one eye, considering me with a muddle of worry, amusement and longing.
"Anyways, enough about me for now. I have some questions of my own." He says, steadily watching me.
"Go ahead." I say, vaguely aware that this is his attempt to divert the conversation.
"The first time I saw you, you were dressed in a pretty blue dress, holding a large bag and some kind of mask. You also carried them when you came to see Teddy that night." He says, smiling at the memory. I blush slightly at his reference to my short dress. "But now you don't carry them. Why not?"
"Well, it's a bit of a long story and if I'm honest, it's not a particularly nice one at some points. If I'm going to go into detail about it, which is only fair given that you just told me all of that stuff about you, I'm going to need more than-" I glance at the wall clock to see that we only have three minutes before everyone else arrives. "Three minutes." He nods, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Want me to elaborate on Friday before lesson? Or I can give you a vague run-down if you'd rather?" I ask.
"I have a better idea." He says, the familiar cheeky arrogance returning to his features, making my heart do a little jig in my chest. "Let me take you somewhere tonight, after school. It's not far away and we won't be seen by anyone dangerous, my family monitors the area..." My heart's little jig turns into a full blown dance routine, kicking and punching at my ribs in excitement. I can't help but grin.
"Does this mean that you're going to stop pushing me away?" I ask hopefully. He regards me with his dark eyes.
"For now." He eventually says. "If I'm honest I think that the more I try to push you away, the harder you push me back. I'm just going to have to trust that you know what you're doing, what you're trying to get yourself involved in."
"Yes, good idea." I say, happy that he's finally letting me make my own mind up.
"So then." He leans forwards, softly brushing my hand with his. "Wanna come with me after school?" He says, eye's twinkling.
"Let's do it." I say, still grinning like a Cheshire cat on Christmas day.
"I'll pick you up from yours at seven, we need to wait until it gets dark otherwise it's not the same." He leans back as our class mates start to enter the room, casting us suggestive glances. We ignore them, too caught up in cheekily smiling at each other to care about what they all think. "I'll bring the bike," he winks, "and you bring your story."