Celia

11 Not Really Selfish

Celia

The sky on Tuesday is cloudy and gray, the air humid and cold, meaning my hair is a chaotic frizz. But it's sweater weather and that's just the best thing in the world.

As the storms thunder, I amble to Gio's while reading my book, distracted by the occasional barks and chirps. The sleeves of my green sweater reach my knuckles as I grip the pages the wind is determined to flip.

Fucking Alex slows his red BMW by my side.

"Hop in, I'll give you a ride," he smiles with eye-contact that lasts uncomfortably long. I don't know whether to cringe or pity him.

"I have an exam tomorrow, I need to study." I continue my walk.

"Oh, come on. You don't really care about school." He smirks, shrugging at my scowl. "You don't need it, I make enough money for you to do whatever you wish."

"And what would that be? Talk about the chicken on sale with every other housewife? What a fulfilling concept, can't wait."

"No, you could open a dance studio." He says and my heart drops. Whatever pleasure was tingling inside a minute ago vanishes.

"I got to study," I mutter, but he still continues to drive next to me. "Alex, please! Just leave me alone."

His smile drops as he looks away. "Jesus, alright. I was just saying it for your mom—"

"If you ever dare to talk about my mom to convince me again, it'll be the last time you talk to me. Is that clear?"

"Okay. See you later, then." he rolls his eyes before driving off.

~

"You're sick as a dog," I gasp when Gio opens the door with Luna leaning against his feet.

"Is that another dirty book?" he asks, voice so congested it sounds like he can't breathe. Not to mention he's pale and his eyes are glossy.

"Yes..." I say sarcastically, lifting the cover to show him. "It's an erotic novel between bad bitch Aristotle and kinky dom Plato."

"So a student-teacher porn with a forty-year age gap." Gio raises his brows, unamused.

"Forty-four, actually..." My mouth opens with a surprised smile, to which Gio rolls his eyes before stepping away for me to enter.

"Did you go to school?" I follow him as he moseys towards his bedroom.

"Nope."

A black shirt hugs his wide upper back, outlining the ridges under. My gaze lowers on his faded, inked arms, large hands, then his firm tooshie in his charcoal sweats.

"Um, do you need anything?" I sheepishly look up at him when he stops by his door and turns.

"What do you mean?" His eyes are hooded with exhaustion. Luna meows on her way in, telling him to cut the conversation short.

"I mean do you need medicine or food? Have you taken care of yourself?"

He chuckles, closing the door. "You're funny..."

"He's so weird..." I mutter under my breath.

"Why is your dad so weird?" I ask Ariana when she gets off the bus and we go inside. "He's dying sick, but he'd rather snuggle an animal than do something about it."

"He stays in his room to not get me infected," Ari sighs as she plops down on the couch with her back pack. "I've tried to offer help, but it's impossible, he's so stubborn."