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chapter twenty
florence thompson
song: peer pressure – james bay ft. julia michaels

"You're Italian?" I gasped, moving my gaze up to Vincent where he was sat across from me on his living room floor.

We were both were sitting criss cross on the rug, playing Connect 4 after I'd found the ancient box in his living room next to his massive collections of DVDs. I demanded we play, to which he simply laughed and decided to play along even though we both knew I was about to kick his ass.

Which I did, by the way.

During our game, we'd somehow ended up on the conversation of our ethnic backgrounds and where our families came from where I'd learned that Vincent is partially Italian. My jaw was effectively stuck to the ground.

"I am," he confirmed, nodding as he dropped his red game piece into the very center of the game. I groaned, annoyed he'd taken the spot I planned on. "My father was Italian and my mother was American, we moved to America when I was one so I don't have an accent or anything."

My eyes bulged at this information as I dropped my yellow piece into the far left corner.

"Can you speak Italian?" I asked like a giddy child on Christmas morning.

He nodded. "Fluently. It was something my mother was hellbent on."

"Say something." I grinned, watching as he debated where he wanted to drop his next piece.

He finally dropped it, looking back up at me and leaning in slowly over the game where I was already leaned over the top. My breath caught in my throat as he brought his hand up, softly brushing a blonde tendril of hair out of my face.

"Ti penso ogni giorno, bella," he whispered, his tone velvety as it slipped from between his parted lips.

I felt my heart race in my chest as his gaze fell to my lips which were currently agape in amazement.

"You just told me to eat shit, didn't you?" I breathed, completely ruining the moments and causing a loud boisterous laugh to erupt from Vincent as he let go of my face and leaned back, his eyes closed.

I felt my cheeks heat up.

"I can assure you I most definitely did not tell you to eat shit," he chuckled, finally sobering up.

I glanced down the the game between us and deliberated where I was going to drop my piece, deciding to completely ignore the fact that the last few minutes even happened. With tinted cheeks I finally settled on a spot, hoping that it would keep him from winning our fourth round. I'm on a winning streak that I'd like to keep.

"What about you, Florence? Are you from Italy or is just your name?" Vincent teased, causing me to pull my attention up to him where he was already staring at me.

I sighed, leaning back on my hands as he glanced over the game between us.

"My mom was a struggling artist, she loved and still loves art more than most things in this life. When she was young, she'd take trips in hopes of finding inspiration. She took a trip to Italy weeks before she'd found out she was pregnant with me, and fell in love with little old Florence, Italy. The colors, the people, it was everything to her. She decided on that trip that if she were to ever have a girl she would name her Florence after the little town she loved so much," I informed him, looking up at him as he dropped his next piece. "So, to answer your question, no. Definitely not from Italy, I'm from Genevieve Springs. Born and raised."

Vincent actually seemed fairly intrigued by my story, making me smile softly as he nodded along, assuring he was still listening to me.

For a moment I took myself out of my shoes, viewing the two of us from an unbiased perspective. Two people, ten years apart, playing Connect 4 in the middle of a penthouse apartment that belongs to one of the richest men in the state.

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