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his charcoal eyebrows. “Non sembrava Italiano. Doveva essere Italiano?”
“It’s okay to be broken. You have every right to be. Just don’t let them keep on breaking you. That’s not how you win this particular game.”
“It isn’t just that. I also happen to think that you’re the most beautiful fucking thing I have ever witnessed with my own two eyes. I am watching you just as much as you’re watching me…and I don’t trust myself to look away.”
“I’m not going to force you to fall for me, Silver. You’ve already been forced to do too much. But don’t blame me if I try and change your mind.”
“You’ve got more chance of pulling down the moon.”
“Stai attentio, mi amore. Stai attento.” I hear her voice, the whisperings of a ghost, as I shower, my body singing with pain.
“Va bene. Va bene. Respira, Argento. Respira. Shhhh.”
I want to smash my fist into his face, just like I smashed it into the car window. Instead, when he takes a slow, obvious step toward me, I fall into his arms and bawl into his chest. His arms wrap around me tight, and for the first time since that night in Leon Wickman’s bathroom, I cry as I am held.
“That's it then, Argento. The decision's been made. You're mine, and I'm yours. And the whole of Raleigh High is gonna know about it by five minutes past eight, Tuesday morning.”
“No, Dolcezza. This is the part when I realize you’ve stolen my fucking soul and I have no chance of ever getting it back.”
It was a boy with a clean record, a winning smile and a glorious halo who broke me. Ironically, it’s the boy with the rap sheet, a body full of ink and the dangerous glint in his eye who’s putting me back together.
