ISLA
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I’d stayed in my room the entire day, pretending to read while my stomach twisted and growled from hunger. I could still feel Lorenzo’s touch on my waist from earlier. The memory kept me glued to my bed. Who knew what he was going to do next when I saw him again? He was getting a lot bolder.
However, when the clock struck eight, I gave up. I threw on a hoodie, tied my hair up, and went downstairs, hoping to grab something quickly before he noticed.
The smell of food hit me first. It smelled like pasta, garlic, and something spicy. Then I saw him.
Lorenzo was sitting at the dining table, sleeves rolled to his elbows as always with a wine glass in hand. I was beginning to think he was an alcoholic. He was drinking a lot more these days. Was that why he was so touchy with me? A
