Page 20 of All Your Firsts

“Yeah. Love you, Lex.”

“Love you, Ro.”

I throw my phone on the bed and look back at the window. My feet take a few steps, and my hands touch the black velvet curtain, but I retract my hand and flop on my bed.

Why do I even want to look outside? Who cares if he brings some girl back here?

He probably has a small dick and lasts five seconds. She’ll leave disappointed and unsatisfied. A small smirk plays on my lips at the thought of him lacking in bed.

But I can’t help but think of our interactions during the past couple of days. Some of those moments piss me off, while others give me the chills, and worse, flickering in my stomach. Not butterflies, because I seem to detest the guy and reserve butterflies for guys I like. Not that I’ve ever felt them before.

His stupid, handsome face moves into the forefront of my mind. Who am I kidding? Someone like him, who exudes so much sexual energy with each step he takes, each word he states, and every look or touch he makes knows exactly what he’s doing and probably does it well. He could probably write a book on the art of sex and seduction. Not that I’d know anything about either of those subjects. Well, besides books and porn. The latter is more of an educational viewing than anything else, of course.

I just want to know how my life has changed so drastically in the past couple of days. Time will tell if this was for the best or if running was the biggest mistake of my life.

Four Nights Ago

“You can’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me. I can’t marry Manuel. I don’t like him,” I plead from across the dining room table.

I turn to Mama, silently begging her to intervene. Since it was arranged for her to marry Papa, she knows my heartbreak. Her sympathetic gaze is filled with tears as she looks at me, while Papa’s expression remains passive. He’s an uncompromising and controlling man who insists on having his way, even if it harms others.

“You will marry him. This is not up for discussion, Rosalinda.”

“But...”

“We’ve been planning this for an extremely long time. You know this, and you will do as you’re told. It’s your duty as a member of this family. We all have to make sacrifices.” Papa’s voice grows louder. He’s clearly irritated by me challenging his authority.

I stand abruptly, the chair scraping against the marble floor, while a rage jolts through me like I’ve never felt before.

I have busted my ass to be everything my father has wanted, and for what? To get thrown into a lifelong situation without myconsent. To a guy who makes my skin crawl. Just in the name of strengthening the alliance between our families?

“I never agreed to this. I don’t want to be exchanged like some currency. Please don’t make me do this. I beg you,” I say, looking at Papa while I hold back tears. He doesn’t like those; he considers it a weakness and they won’t help my cause in the least.

“I’m tired of your dramatics. Marco will drive you back to your dorm tomorrow morning and you will grab all of your shit. Playtime is over. If you continue to be a disappointment, I will make your life a living hell. Gladly offering you to one of the other families in Boston at a discounted price, just to ease the constant headache you cause. Now sit down and eat.” He hits the table with his palm, making Mama and me flinch.

“You promised me. You said I could finish out the rest of my semester. What about the art exhibit I have in a couple of weeks? It’s not—”

“I don’t give a fuck what I said or about your waste of time art exhibit.”

Tears well up behind my eyes, stinging with an intensity that I refuse to release. I have thrown my heart and soul into this exhibit. I saw this as an opportunity to prove to my father the extent of my skills. Many nights, as I worked on the pieces, I hoped and prayed for him to appreciate my art. To see me as someone with talent and purpose.

I take one last look around the room. First at Marco, my brother, who keeps his head down, eating food without a care in the world. Then at my mother, who’s looking down at her hands in defeat, before staring at my father, who looks pretty pissed at my outburst. What my father says is always final. I know I won’t get any help to convince him otherwise.

These are times I wish my brother, Gage, was home. He was always compassionate and would stand for what was right, even if he got hurt in the end.

I can’t wait for him to come back.

I decide I’m no longer hungry and stomp to my room. I don’t say another word, even when Mama calls my name.

Even when I can feel the glare of death from Papa.

This is the first time I’ve been so outspoken, and I’d give myself a pat on the back if I wasn’t so terrified he’d come after me.

Marco and I came home for our parents’ anniversary and a quick dinner, and we’ll return to our dorms early in the morning. I was so excited to be home, spending time with my mom, and now I wish I had stayed in my dorm.

Papa’s promise of time gave me hope, but now both are gone. I refuse to marry someone I don’t choose. I’m running away, and I’ll actually succeed this time.

I feel for the texture of my old backpack from high school at the top of my closet. Then, I quickly tear down a few pieces of clothing, the straining and snapping of hangers echo around me.

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