The Illusion of Annabella (20 page)

“So, why’d you guys really move here, then?” I put the focus back on him, not wanting to fixate on me.

“That part was actually true—we really did need a change . . . Our lives got too caught up in Rowan. Even though I loved LA, I was kind of excited to get the hell away from that house where all the shit went down. But then, about a week ago, Rowan called, crying to my dad that she couldn’t handle being a mom anymore and that he need to come get Bria, but in Rowan style, there’s a stipulation before she hands over Bria.” He sucks in a breath, and I wonder if he’s on the verge of crying. “She calls every freakin’ night, trying to blackmail my mom and dad into giving her money before they can have Bria.” He shakes his head, grinding his teeth. “We all know she only wants the money to buy drugs.”

“I think I’ve heard your dad talking to her at night,” I tell him, because I can’t think of anything else to say.

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard. “Yeah, he talks to her outside because he doesn’t want to upset my mom . . . She’s not the best person at handling the hard stuff. She has this real issue with being overly nice and cheerful all the time.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” My pulse thuds madly when he strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, and butterflies flutter inside my stomach. It’s the exact opposite of how I felt with Miller. I hate that Luca makes me feel this way. Loathe him for it. But most of all, I despise myself for wanting him to do it again.

“It doesn’t sound bad, but it is. Imagine never getting angry over anything and holding it all in.” He stares down at our hands as he caresses the back of my hand again. “Eventually, you’re going to explode.”

I shiver, from his touch, from his words.
Is that what’s going to happen to me
? “Has she ever done that before? I mean, exploded because she held too much in?”

“Yeah, a couple of times, and it’s really started to take a toll on her. Plus, when she’s in one of her crazy nice modes, she almost becomes too helpful and turns into Rowan’s crutch.” He finally frees my hand, and I breathe in a huge gulp of air as the butterflies settle down. “Can you believe that she actually wants us to tell everyone that Bria’s her daughter? It’s fucking nuts.”

“So, they’re giving Rowan the money?”

“It’s not really a choice. Crutch or not, this isn’t about Rowan. It’s about Bria . . .” He shudders. “God knows what she’s gone through over the last year.”

“Luca, I get why they’re letting Bria live with them, but won’t it seem really weird for you to suddenly have a little sister when your mom’s been telling everyone you’re an only child?”

“That’s pretty much what my dad and I told her.” He picks up a pebble and chucks it across the grass. “But, like I said, my mom’s sanity is really questionable sometimes. She hates people knowing about Rowan. She says it’s because she doesn’t want anyone to know about our problems, but I think she really does it because it makes it easier for her to ignore the problems.”

I trace my bumpy scars. “I can kind of see where she’s coming from.”

“You don’t really mean that.” He adjusts back on his elbows, his gaze following the movement of my fingers. “When people act like that, the people around them suffer. My dad, even me, has suffered from the crazy choices she’s always making. It makes it hard to be happy sometimes.”

His words strike me hard. I know that’s what I’m doing to my family. Making them suffer because I won’t deal with my problems; instead, I get arrested, refuse to go to physical therapy, and run away from my feelings. But hearing what it’s like from the other side of the fence, makes me realize just how bad it’s probably been for my brothers and sisters. I thought they weren’t happy because our parents died, but maybe I’m the cause behind some of their misery.

I shake my head then shrug, not sure what to say, what I believe anymore. “Luca, I’m sorry you’re life’s been hard, but I need to know . . . why are you telling me this? It doesn’t make any sense. You don’t know me very well, and it’s not like I’ve been very nice to you.”

“You’ve been a lot nicer than most of the people around here.”

“If that’s the truth, it’s sad.”

“Sad or not, it’s the truth,” he says. “They don’t seem too welcoming to new people.”

“They just need time to warm up,” I explain. “That’s just how people are around here.”

“Okay, but still. I feel like I kind of owe you a secret after what you told me the other night.”

My eyes widen. “Oh, my God. What’d I tell you?”

“You can’t remember, huh? Interesting.” He seems way too pleased about it.

I sort through my memories of the other night. “I remember a lot of things, like wandering around, puking in front of you.” I wince, my cheeks heating at the memory.

“That definitely wasn’t one of your finer moments,” he says. “But I did enjoy hearing you tell me I smelled good when I was helping you into the car.”

“I did not say that.”

“Yeah, you kind of did. You even sniffed my chest.”

I lower my head into my hands. “I swear to God, I can’t remember doing that.”

“Don’t worry, it was kind of cute,” he promises me. “You looked totally out of it, too, so I mostly shrugged it off. I do wonder if you meant it, though.”

I tip my head to the side and peer at him between my fingers. “Wonder what? If you smell good.”

He nods, resting his arms on his legs. “It’s not every day I get a compliment like that from an extremely beautiful girl, just to realize she probably doesn’t even know what she’s saying.”

I make a gagging face. “Luca, do you want me to smell you and see if you smell good?”

He bobs his head up and down then leans toward me. A smile plays at his lips and I know he’s messing around with me. Still, I lean in toward him, so close his shirt brushes against my cheek. Miller always smelled like cigarettes and booze, which I was never a fan of. Luca smells amazing, like cologne and soap and earth.

 Sneaking another sniff, I slant back. “You smell okay.”

He frowns. “Just okay? Seriously? Well, that sucks.”

I roll my tongue in my mouth. “Fine, you win this one. You smell great. Way better than any other guy I’ve ever smelled.”

“Do you do that a lot?” he teases. “Go around smelling guys?”

“Sometimes when I get really bored,” I retort.

He grins. “Well, thanks for the compliment. And I’m going to do you a favor in return and let you know that that wasn’t the only thing you told me that night.”

“Crap, really?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

The quietness that follows is maddening.

I clasp my hands in front of me. “For the love of God, would you please just tell me what I said, or it’s going to drive me crazy.”

“
Going
to drive you crazy?”

I lightly shove his shoulder. “That’s not funny.”

He laughs. “I’m not trying to be funny. Some of the stuff I’ve seen you do makes you come off a little . . .” He rotates his finger in a circle at the side of his head, making a cuckoo motion.

I suppress a laugh. “Are you going to tell me what I said or not?”

His hand falls to his lap with his forearm up. He’s wearing a short sleeve black t-shirt and I can see his tattoo clearly in the daylight. He said it means strength, but what does he need strength for? The stuff going on with his sister?

“You told me about throwing the rock at the shop owner’s window,” Luca reveals, observing my reaction.

An image of me sitting in his car, babbling God only knows what to him. “I kind of remember . . . Vaguely, anyway.” But I worry just how much I told him. What if it was
everything
?

“You were a little out of it. You never said why you did it, though. Only that the store owner was an asshole.”

Avoiding his gaze, I stare at the back of my hands, flexing my fingers, evading the question in his eyes. “You never told me how you guessed which candies I wanted.”

“That’s a secret for another day,” he says, sounding a tad disappointed that I’m shutting down.

“But you will tell me one day, right?” I glance up at him. “Because it’ll drive me crazy if you don’t.”

His lips pull to an adorable half grin. “I thought we already decided you were already crazy.” I playfully shove him again, and he laughs softly, fiddling with his leather wristband. “Can I ask you something?”

The change in his tone sends warning flags popping up. When his attention travels to my thigh, my body goes as rigid as a board.

Please don’t ask me about my scars. Please don’t ask. Please.

“Why purple?”

“Why purple . . . huh?”

He coils a strand of my hair around his finger, and I study the way he looks at me, totally mesmerized by how fascinated he seems to be with my hair. “Is it your favorite color? Because I’ve really been wondering, why purple? I mean, why not blue or pink or green?”

“Because purple’s awesome,” I joke, then shrug. “But if you really want to know, it was the first box of hair dye I picked up when I decided to steal one.”

He unravels my hair from his finger and points at me accusingly. “You really are a little thief.”

I hold up the crinkled photo. “So are you.”

“I guess we’re perfect for each other, then.”

“Do you come up with those cheesy lines all on your own? Or steal them from movies?”

“Those are one hundred percent original cheesy lines,” he quips. “And don’t pretend like you don’t like them. I can totally tell that you do.”

The really sad part is sometimes I do. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I don’t have to. You do for me every time you smile at something I say.”

I stare at him, unimpressed.

He chuckles amusedly. “You know, I knew the first time I saw you that you were going to be hard to impress, but I didn’t expect it to be this tough. Seriously, it’s a workout trying to get you to smile.”

“Maybe you should give up, then,” I suggest. “It’d be easier.”

“Because it’s fun watching you try to stay pissed at me.” He touches his thumb to the corner of my lips, and my breath hitches in my throat. “Your mouth gets all twitchy when you’re trying so hard not to smile.”

A nervous exhale puffs from my lips, and I cringe, knowing he had to have heard it. “Luca, I t-think we should take it easy . . .” I stutter over my words, just like I did when I invited Ben to my birthday party.

But I can’t breathe, think, do anything as Luca’s gaze lingers on my mouth. “I’m really confused right now and I…” And I what? I have no idea.

“We can do that, if that’s what you want,” he says, but then contradicts himself as he starts to lean in.

I gulp as my stomach somersaults. Holy hell, my heart is racing so rapidly I swear it’s going to leap out of my chest. I don’t know what to do with how I’m feeling. Don’t know if I hate it. Like it. What.

I’m the most confused girl in the world.

Lost Annabella.

Right before our lips connect, I unexpectedly let out a cough, shattering the moment into pieces.

Feeling stupid and confused, I mutter, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Luca turns away, scratching at his tattoo. 

Why is this so hard? It was always so easy with Miller. 

An uneven breath eases from my lips as I realize why that is. With Miller, it never meant anything. With Luca, it means something because I like the idea of kissing him. Like silly, dreamy, girly crush kind of like.

But what would happen if I did it? Would I get the same numbness I did when I kissed Miller? I don’t think so, since the idea of a kiss with feeling makes my pulse race, in a good/bad kind of way because I fear feeling too much, yet it feels so nice at the same time—so full of possibilities.

Goosebumps sprout across my arms as I recollect my birthday, the excitement and hope of experiencing my first kiss with Ben. I wanted it to be perfect but then everything changed, and that perfect first kiss ended up being just a kiss with Miller a couple of weeks later. Another dream gone that I’ll never get back. Unlike my leg, though, I chose to give up my first kiss dream.