Alessandro |18+|

12

ARIA

"I don't think anyone's doing deliveries right now. What do you have in your fridge?" Sandro asked, and I waved him off, gesturing for him to look for himself. Oh man, I was real close to dosing off.

"Bellissima," he murmured, and I felt him enclose his hand around the back of my neck. He moved me from my upright position, lifting my head off the backrest until I was laying on my side in a foetal position. I sighed as my body sunk further into the soft sofa. That felt much better.

I opened my eyes halfway, seeing him head first in my fridge. Was he going to make me something to eat?

He paused, standing up straight before grabbing a block of cheese and butter. Sandro looked around my kitchen, seemingly a little confused as he didn't know where anything was. Adorable. He opened cupboard doors, looking through them before pulling out a skillet and a half loaf of bread.

Grilled cheese?

Oh fuck yeah.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, holding the items before laying it down on the counter.

"Not at all," I murmured truthfully, watching him get to work. He rolled his sleeves up, and turned the tap on to wash his hands.

His forearms were toned, flexing as he lathered his palms with the soap. I swallowed hard, immediately looking away. Washing hands had never been that hot, and I found myself wanting to gaze at him once again. I didn't.

"Don't fall asleep on me," he said, and honestly, I suddenly felt a lot more awake than I did two seconds ago when his tattoos weren't showing. Dammit.

"I won't," I assured, fiddling with a random string coming from my couch.

I was still in his hoodie, but my apartment was hotter than outside and I needed to take it off. It was proven to be difficult to remove a hoodie while laying, so I sat up and dragged the material over my head.

"Thank you," I said, neatly folding it up and setting it down on the coffee table.

"You're welcome," he said, looking up at me. I smiled, picking up my water bottle to take a few sips. The nerves hadn't left, and the fluttering in my chest returned when Sandro grinned at me.

How could someone look so happy while making a grilled cheese was beyond me.

I needed to use the bathroom. Just to cleanse my face and wash my hands. It was also a distraction that I was desperately seeking for while I had a hot as fuck man standing before a stove. I got up, rolling my neck before stretching my arms. The movement made my skirt hike up, and I caught Sandro's eyes darting down before he returned to the task at hand.

I held back my smirk – it was kind of endearing how hard he tried to hide how he felt.

Just as I was about to pass him, I heard something drop before a hand was wrapping around my arm. There was an unhappy scowl on his face, and it was directed at my bare back.

"What happened?" he asked, bending down to get a closer look.

"What?" I asked, reaching behind me to try and get an idea of what he was looking at. I felt around my lower back until I reached a specific tender spot and pain shot through the area. I winced – that asshole from the club really bruised me.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just some guy who knocked into me. I bruise easily," I said, trying to ease the worried frown on his forehead. Was it really that bad?

"Sandro. I'm fine," I said again, but now that I knew about it, the pain was suddenly there and not going away.

He stepped back, nodding his head with a small shrug. "Okay."