Carmela + Amos

Chapter 12 - Amos

          Nervous fingers trembled across the screen as Amos tapped icons on Lorena's phone. He hated snooping. Especially as she splashed in the shower just a few feet over, and if it weren't for the steam fogging the glass, she would see him. Taking a few deep breaths, he opened her texts and scrolled through them.

However, her messages with Elliot were all about work.

When he checked her other conversations, they came up empty as well. Aside from back-and-forth chatter with her sister, Lorena's texts were all business discussions between colleagues.

Amos was about to give up when he realized social media also had direct messaging. He hovered his thumb over one icon, but his heart plummeted to his feet when the shower faucet squeaked and the water turned off. With eyes wide, he set the phone face down on the vanity before bolting from the bathroom.

By the time Lorena exited, he was tucked under the blankets, pretending to sleep.

A few days went by, and Amos had yet to steal another chance at looking through Lorena's phone. It was eating away at him, and it didn't help that his recent read through Carmela's journal had him cursing her. Sure, Rodrigo was a piece of shit, but it didn't excuse cheating.

Did it?

On top of it all, Lorena's work was invited to some fancy seven-course dinner for a tech ceremony where Silicon Valley's finest rubbed elbows and presented awards. This meant Amos would have to stand by her side in a three-piece suit and be uncomfortable all night.

Dressing in front of the full-length mirror, he adjusted the cufflinks on his wrist and tugged on the neck of his ruby tie. Lorena's reflection moved behind him as she slipped on a red, body-hugging dress. It was her idea to match, so she picked his outfit as if dressing a Ken doll. He hated wearing suits. They confined his skin when he only wanted to roll up the sleeves, loosen the buttons, and un-tuck his shirt.

One thing was for sure; it didn't matter how fancy he looked. The clothes would never hide his tattoos. Ink covered his fingers and knuckles—his father's name on one hand and their family name on the other, with music notes dancing towards his wrists from a song his mother sang to him as a child.

"Zip me up?" Lorena glanced over her shoulder, so Amos turned, pinched the zipper between his fingers, and slid it upwards before smoothing his palms over her shoulders.

"You look pretty."

"Not, hot?" Lorena spun around.

"Smoking."

"You're looking pretty good too." She adjusted his tie.

"Digging the tatted bad-boy-in-suit look, huh?"

"You're way too good to be a bad boy. But it's why I love you." She leaned up on bare feet, kissing his nose.

"We won't be there all night, right?"

"Well, dinner starts at seven, followed by the awards ceremony at eight, and then dancing after."

"Let's skip the dancing."

"Amos..." Lorena slipped into her Christian Louboutin stilettos. "It'll look terrible if we leave right after the awards ceremony. We have to dance to at least a few songs. Besides, you love dancing."

"I do, but it's Sunday, and I got called to substitute tomorrow."

"Amos, we're twenty-eight, not eighty-eight. You can stay out late on a school night. Live a little."

"Interesting. You didn't have the same attitude a month ago when staff invited me to a school fundraiser."

"Hm, let me see..." Lorena raised her arms as if weighing the differences. "A fancy dinner at the Ritz Carlton or a potluck at a stuffy school gymnasium."