"Angelo is just in the kitchen," Angelo's father said, taking a few steps toward me. My heart pounded faster.
"Take a seat."
"Thank you," I muttered shyly and sat on the corner of their gray sofa. He sat on the chair in front of me.
"I didn't know that Angelo could cook," I muttered, placing my hands on my knees to prevent them from shaking.
"I think he got it from his mother," he answered.
"Yes, I do remember Tita Joyce feeding us all the time," I said, a smile crossing my lips as I reminisced.
"Joyce talked about you a lot before. Like how you were good friends with Angelo."
I nodded. "Yes. We're best friends."
"But now you're his girlfriend."
My cheeks turned hot as I nodded again.
"Don't be afraid."
"I'm sorry, I just... I don't know why..." I stammered, holding my knees tig
