Page 84 of Driftwood Daffodil 2

My body bounced off the mattress, throwing me up the bed just enough to clack the top of my skull off the headboard.

Groaning, I reached up and attempted to rub away the haze clouding my mind.

Less than two minutes into the fight and I had a sore hand, two aching legs, a stinging cheek and brain fog. Needless to say, I was not on track to become the next heavy weight champion.

To make matters worse, my shorts slipped off my hips sometime during my flight. So not only was I on Gio’s bed – where things might happen that I didn’t want to – but my bright pink Ninja Turtle underwear were on full display. The term epic fail was created for times like this. Good thing I didn’t get embarrassed.

“Is that a fucking turtle?”

Gio was right there, wasn’t he?

I creaked an eye open and looked up at the jade orbs rolling over me, soaking up every curve I had. Turns out I could be embarrassed after all. The darker his gaze got, the more my cheeks heated up.

“Doesn’t look like any turtle I’ve ever seen.”

Was he serious?

“It Michelangelo.” When he just cocked a brow at me I explained, “He’s the best Ninja Turtle Ever.”

“What the fuck is a Ninja Turtle?”

Really? Where did Gio spend his childhood, under a rock?

“They’re superheroes.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Please tell me you know who Spiderman is?” Everyone knew Peter Parker.

“That’s the guy in the red and black suit, right?”

Red and black suit? That was all he had to say? I wasn’t sure if I should be appalled or feel sorry for him?

“Did you not read comic books as a kid?”

“Why would I waste my time on something stupid like that?”

Waste his time? Time was all kids had. They ran around playing games and making their parent’s lives hell.

“Because stupid is in the job description of being a kid. Didn’t you ever eat a mud pie or jump off the roof to see if you could fly?” Umbrellas didn’t help with flying by the way. Mary Poppins lied about that one.

Gio looked at me like I was crazy and I couldn’t help but wonder what the little bot version of him was like? Was he an asshole too? Did little Gio have friends to play with? Did he have a clubhouse and roll around in the mud for no reason or eat so much Halloween candy that he got sick? All kids did that kind of stuff. Didn’t they?

Maybe Gio didn’t? This wasn’t exactly a normal house, or family. They didn’t even have any family portraits hung on the walls. At least none that I had seen. I couldn’t see them going for picnics in the park, or to the playground.

His father didn’t strike me as the push his kid on the swings type. So what kind of childhood did Gio have? Was he allowed to have fun, or did he sit by himself watching other kids have fun? He didn’t seem very close to his father, or brother for that matter.

I couldn’t stop the question from slipping out. “Do you like your family?”

His eyes met mine. “Does anyone?”

“I like mine.”

“Well, hurrah for you.” He scoffed and pressed his knee down on the bed. “Now stop stalling.”

My pulse picked up as he crawled over me, and I should’ve run away. But I couldn’t stop picturing a little boy sitting by himself somewhere in the rain while watching all the other kids around him laugh and play.

The Mancini’s had a reputation in this town. Until that moment, it didn’t occur to me how isolating a reputation like that might be for a kid. Everyone would be afraid to approach him. Gio had no one.

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