My Biggest treasure

4

- Good morning, Santino- she greeted, relieved to find him and not her parents, as she initially feared.

The aforementioned, a twenty-four-year-old boy, black hair - just like Luke - only long and carried in a ponytail and deep dark circles only nodded in response to the greeting. He emulated a forced half-smile at the young woman.

Santino felt the edge of her lower lip quiver. A stupid symptom of nervousness that I hated to manifest. He took a sip from his nearly empty glass of orange juice and shifted his attention from the girl to the television.

-I didn't know you'd be staying here overnight- he commented, feigning interest in the show and feeling like the worst liar ever- Luke didn't tell me.

Farce and more farce. Had he had a damn lie detector on his fingers, it would have exploded in less than two minutes.

He looked at her quickly. The young woman had shrugged her shoulders and was looking down at the floor. her cheeks were red.

-Well, I ... is that ...

-It doesn't matter- the older man interrupted, noting the extreme nervousness on her part. He got up from the table and opened the refrigerator — I just got up too. I think there's still something left from last night's dinner, in case you want ...

He barely reached for the refrigerator door when she stopped him. He felt the brush of her soft fingers close to her knuckles, not avoiding looking away from her.

The young woman didn't even notice Santino's evasive gesture. She stepped in front of him, scrutinizing the inside of the refrigerator. She brought out a new bottle of milk, half a dozen eggs, and the ajar package for homemade pancakes.

-What are you doing?- Asked Santino, who had remained silent only by holding the metal door.

Alexa arranged the groceries neatly on the parapet near the modern kitchen. She pulled out a bowl from one of her pantries, having rummaged through it for about ten minutes. She turned to him, gave him a trustworthy look. Authentic and spontaneous.

-Make breakfast, I'm not going to eat overheated leftovers from who knows when- She answered. There was no pretense in her voice, it was the simple impudence of any girl her age and nothing more- Besides, there's nothing like homemade food.

He nodded the same way Luke used to. She supposed it was a characteristic Lux response.

She turned on the stove, while he just sat at the table, trying to fix his attention on whatever was being projected on the television screen. He took hold of his glass again, taking a sip of a juice already nonexistent inside. He approached the container, his fingers clumsy and slightly sweaty.

The image of him, fuzzy but aware of the memory of his "busy" night in the bathroom, was still present and clear enough to make her glass shake as she poured herself another round of juice.

Highly strung.

And he had to admit it, he felt just a little nervous. Not because she was here, in the same room and breathing the same air. Not even for the fact that she was wearing a somewhat informal change of clothes... and revealing, taking into account that she had barely seen her and noticed unequivocally that she was not wearing anything under her blouse and the folds of this only accentuated her little ones a little more. youthful breasts, curving like silk over her n*****s.

No, he wasn't nervous about it. But for the dazed attempt at dawn.

Shit! What the hell had she done ?! He was not like that. By next month he would be twenty-five years old, he was not a fourteen-year-old lad who barely "warmed up" and saw a girl. No, never, not even when he was that age. It was improper.

So why Alexa ...?

-At nine? Her voice broke into her musings, just in time before he began to bump himself against the table, to get himself out of such ideas.

-I was distracted. Sorry- he said, pretending a simplicity worthy of a questioned in full trial- What were you saying?

-What if you didn't have to report to the office at nine- she argued- Luke has told me that they hardly ever see you at home, that things in the family business are not going very well

Luke… when did that ignorant asshole give a damn ?! Furthermore, he is the one we rarely see at home. If you only knew ...

-Hmm ... no. He wasn't going to go today- he replied, ignoring his useless thoughts- It's just a bad sales streak or that's what my father calls him. He seemed carefree. "A bad season." Nothing to worry about, we have survived worse times.

The sweet aroma of pancakes hung in the air, forming a cloud on the stovetop.

-Well, I've noticed Luke a little tense. I thought that was why he said he would probably look for part-time employment in the summer.

-Job?- Santino completely forgot that he had thought aloud. He noticed the hint of interest in the young woman so he managed to open a conversation. Maybe that would de-stress him a bit- Heh, that bum must have gotten into another problem, wanting to find a way to get money, especially on vacation.

His face returned to its serious mode until he realized that the pink-haired girl was staring at him with a confused expression.

-Well, not that I know of- he answered simply- It's been a quiet time since the previous semester.

Or at least that's what you think, he reminded himself, trying not to be a betrayer of his ideas.

He arched his shoulders, taking her statement toward him for granted. Alexa sat to the right of him and placed in front of him a plate with four pancakes arranged in perfect symmetry. She reached for the bottle of syrup.

-I don't like sweets- he managed to say, almost in a whisper.

-Well, I do- She smiled wickedly and emptied what seemed to Santino the entire bottle of maple syrup on the plate.

The chair squeaked a little as he pulled her closer to him. Very close to her, almost as if she was on her lap.

-Aren't you going to serve yourself on another plate?

-No need- she laughed- I know Luke is bothered when the dishes are worn out. I don't mind sharing the plate.

How the hell can you care what Luke says or doesn't say? Besides, that's what the damn dishes are for; to be used.

She thought it herself, even though she internally felt that she should have said it. She noted the measured care she took in splitting half a third.

-Proof.

-I already told you that I don't like sweet food ...- Alexa's hand came forward and without him realizing it, his almost extinct sense of taste noticed the warm and soft sandwich of bread, perceiving a subtle flavor That was far from the already known, or those prefabricated breakfasts in the office dining room - ... um ... not bad. Is it cinnamon?

She nodded.

–Leave the paste smoother and the dry taste does not remain. –She argued. She gave Santino a mischievous look- By the way, don't pretend that you don't like sweets.

Great, what else has my nosy little brother told you?

-What do you mean by that?

-I saw you at Mr. Tanaka's shop, buying a box of dangos. Either that or you have a very lucky girlfriend who likes dangos.

Santino muttered something unintelligible and unimportant.

-I don't have a girlfriend- he said coldly.

The phrase had an apathy beyond what he used to in his tone of voice. An air beyond the simple habit of repeating it, it was not the first time that he expressed it.