Page 26 of Isn't She Lucky
It’s late whenI pull up at Kasim’s place. He texted me the code to the gate, so I let myself through, then parked in the driveway.
I sit in my car for a moment and shake my head. “What the heck are you doing, Giada?”
I ask myself the question while knowing it’s too late to turn back now, especially after telling my mother to pick out a house. The smile on her face is enough to get me through this.
Three months.
I only need to serve three months with the person whom I once trusted – the person who called me poor behind my back and said I dressed funny.
And I taught this fool how to ride a bike…
I should’ve let him bust his tail.
I get out of the car and take a suitcase from the backseat. Before I can carry it up the stairs, I feel it being taken out of my hand.
I turn around to see Kasim with no shirt, wearing a pair of black shorts and a black headband, covered in sweat.
“What—the—? Where’d you come from?”
“I went out for a jog.”
“At night?”
He smirks. “It’s not completely dark. You drove right past me. I ran faster to get here before you started taking things out of your car. You must’ve been sitting here for a minute.”
“I was,” I say, trying to force my eyes not to look at his chest, but it can’t be helped. His pectorals are thick and glistening with sweat – sweat that runs down defined six-pack abs and along the treasure trail that dips below the waistband of his shorts. His shoulders are massive – two boulders that make him look like he can lift anything.
He turns and proceeds to the stairs.
I follow, swallowing the lump in my throat at the expanse of his back. Muscles flex beneath his skin effortlessly, making me ask how they could be so defined. Good grief! Did he live in the gym?
He keys in the code to the front door and when he steps inside, he lowers the bag, turns to me and says, “How does it feel to be back?”
I glance at his chest briefly, but my eyes fall to it again because his body is top tier. He’s no longer the scrawny teenager I remember. This is a full-grown man with full-grown muscles and everything else I imagine. It’s giving boss status. Alpha male status. Make a woman lose her mind status. But something else catches my eyes – something I didn’t see under the darkness ofthe night. He has a cursive letter ‘G’ tattooed on his left pectoral. It’s small, about the size of a quarter, but it’s there.
I look up at him, confusion clouding my features.
“Something wrong?”
“Uh…n—no. No. Nothing’s wrong,” I say, looking at the letter on his chest again before connecting my eyes to his.
My stomach flips, sinking fast like a boat with a hole in it. A feeling washes over me – a rush of something electric that tells me he’s confirming it’s what I think it is. My initial. The nickname he gave me. It’s etched into his body, close to his heart. My throat tightens.
“Giada?”
“Oh. Um…”
Breathe, Giada. Breathe.
“What did you ask me?” I inquire.
“I said, how does it feel to be back here?”
“It’s different,” I finally answer.
It’s very different. His parents are no longer alive, which is mind boggling in itself, but I cannot fathom how he’s able to live here with all the memories of them – or perhaps that’s what’s holding him here. The memories.
“I would give you a tour, but you don’t need one, do you?”
