𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘 | 𝟏𝟖+

Chapter 4

A T H E N A

"You just don't know how beautiful you are, and baby that's my favorite part"

° ° °

"So... which kind of tampons do you use?

Tampax pearl complex? Light, regular, super plus? Jesus, what kind of names do they give these things?" Chris mutters, staring confused at the ray of pads and tampons in front of him. I chuckle and decide to help him out of his misery.

"Just take the normal pads. Tampons hurt," I tell him. He frowns, and rakes a hand through his messy blond hair. He takes a step to the right, where the pads are and his frown deepens.

"Which one do you prefer? Always or Stayfree? And again, what size? Ugh, they're driving me insane," he mutters. Laughing at him, I take the normal ones from Always and put them in the cart. On the way to the food section I explain it to him.

"Look, when I'm on my period and ask you to come get pads for me, just take the dark-blue ones with wings, from Always," I tell him. He frowns.

"And what are the other ones for?"

"Depends on the amount of blood. Some women don't suffer much from their menstruation or don't have a lot of blood, so they pick the smaller sizes. But I prefer the bigger ones."

His cute frown deepens, but he nods. "Alright. So why did you take these tiny ones if you prefer the bigger ones?" he asks, confusion still clear in his voice.

"Because, I always use them just a few days before my period starts, so that my clothes don't get stained."

Muttering that he gets it, which I hardly believe, we continue our way through the supermarket.

"So, how's your dad?" I ask him, pushing the cart forward. He stops scrolling on his phone and puts it in his back-pocket of his jeans.

"Good, he made me work-out yesterday for eight hours," he sighs. I frown.

"That's a lot. He doesn't let you take a break?"

He presses his lips together and shakes his head. "Nope. Mom wasn't home, so she wasn't there to tell him to stop working me out so much. He takes advantage of that."

I feel bad for him, but I know that telling him to tell his father the truth is a lost cause. And his father is way too stubborn than to let his only son quit football.

"I'm sorry Chris. You know I want to help you, but you won't let me," I say and stop the cart, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You know him, Athena. He won't listen. And when he finds out that I've been taking secret guitar lessons this year he'll kill me," he says, a pained expression in his eyes. My heart breaks for him.

"I'm so--"

"Athena?"

No, this can't be happening. My body immediately responds to his voice, and I clench my thighs together out of instinct. His accent sends shivers down my spine, and slowly I turn around, meeting the dark brown eyes of Vincenzo.

"Vincenzo! Hi, funny running into you here," I say, with a rather forced smile on my face. I don't want Chris to see how I'm reacting to a man 17 years my senior. Vincenzo chuckles, and his eyes move from me to Chris.

"Hello, I think we've met earlier, yes? On the parking lot?" Vincenzo asks him, raising questioningly a brow in Chris' direction. Chris nods, and clears his throat. "Eh, yes, we did. Nice to see you again, Mr. Amoretto."

Vincenzo nods, but doesn't return it. He turns back to me. "It's funny how we keep running into each other, no?" he chuckles, his accent very evident.