My name is Eveline. Eveline Tate.
I am the daughter of Lucas and Rebecca Tate. Yup, THE Lucas and Becca Tate. Don't ask me why, but I grew up knowing that they are someone important. Uncle Mike is still working for dad, as his bodyguard. I used to...
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Grandma has left the first one from our little ladies' pool party.
It's getting late.
She has been dozing off for the past hour, so mom has thought to take her to her room to sleep.
I guess mom has stayed in as well because half an hour later she's not back yet.
It's just me and aunt Tea left at the pool, laying on our backs on the sunbeds, with aunt Tea checking her phone every five minutes and me staring up into the vast darkness of the sky.
She sighs every now and then, blowing heavy air between her parted lips every time she stares at the screen and doesn't find a call or a text.
Ten hours after dad and the rest of the gang's departure, we both know they have landed by now and most probably they are at Enzo's estate already.
And still, none of the phones in the house has rung.
I fill my glass with some more champagne and lay back on the sunbed, sipping from the glass and staring up, thinking of how this sky can fit both me and Enzo under, and yet, we are thousands of miles away.
I carelessly let a tear slide down my temple, tightening my hold on the phone and fighting the urge to call.
"Well, good night, kid," aunt Tea suddenly says, standing up and walking into the house, not waiting for my reply's so I don't answer, being afraid that my shaky voice will betray my poor broken heart.
I just stay here, frozen, pouring my heart out and the champagne down my throat until tears dry out and the booze finishes.
My eyes are closing. It's maybe being late or the champagne has finally defeated me, but I don't feel to stand up, so I let myself dive into a deep sleep right here, in the chill of the night, knocked down by exhaustion and alcohol.
"Eve," I hear a whispered voice calling my name, and I pray it will stop soon because I don't have the slightest intention to wake up.
"Eve, wake up, baby," I hear mom again.
"No, leave me alone," I mumble, trying to roll on the other side, which soon I find to be pretty hard because I realize I'm not in my spacious bed.
"Please, Jason. Help me take her to bed," she says and the named Jason hovers above me, trying to lift me in his arms.
I snap my head up towards him, perfectly sober, and push his hands away. I don't want him to touch me.
"Oh, come on, Eve, stop being a brat," he scolds, squeezing one arm under my shoulders and the other behind my knees, lifting me and carrying me inside the house.
Drunk or tired or simply sick of life, call it whatever, I let myself be carried up to my room where Jason lays me gently on the bed and throws a cover over me.
