Page 26 of Nicoli

Nicoli cups my cheek, his touch gentle and soft. “You are the bane of my existence.” The words leave his mouth like a curse, one that shatters my heart and breaks my world. I’m nothing but pain as he turns his back on me and walks away, every step putting a thousand miles between us.

“And you are mine,” I whisper, clutching the towel as my soul drowns.

ChapterNine

NICOLI

Mira appears by my bedroom door, her hand on her hip and delicate eyebrows raised. The pout on her lips perfectly complements the impatient tapping of her foot. “Did you remember to buy me a present?”

I smirk and shove my books in my backpack. “Why would I buy you a present?”

“Because it’s my birthday.”

“No, it’s not.” I snicker. “Your birthday is still two days away.”

She walks in with her arms crossed, the pink bow in her hair bouncing against her cheeks while her white baby doll shoes glide across the carpet. “Doesn’t mean you can’t give me a present today.”

“That’s exactly what it means.” I slip on my jacket and glance in the mirror, trying to straighten my tie. As I turn, I find Mira standing right in front of me, glaring up with narrowed eyes. “What?” I shrug.

“You’re supposed to get me a birthday present.”

“Two more days.” I clasp my big hands around her tiny arms, pick her up, and place her on the bed. She doesn’t move, keeping her arms crossed, still glowering at me.

“I want a pony,” she says, and I roll my eyes.

“You and two million other six-year-old girls.”

“Seven.”

“Not for another two more days. Now, as much as I’d like to stay here and remind you a thousand times that it’s not your birthday today, I’m late for school.” Grabbing my backpack, I rush toward the door, stopping and turning toward her. “Are you coming?”

“No,” she says, raising her eyes to the roof. “I’m going to stay. Right. Here.” She huffs, blowing a rogue curl from her face. “I’ll wait for you until you get back.”

“Oh, no. Not a chance. You want to go through my stuff again, don’t you?”

“No.” Her cheeks blush a light shade of pink, and the way she bites her bottom lip has a guilty conscience written all over it.

“Mira,” I say, giving her a warning look. “You’re not going to stay in my room and wait for me. Go stay in your own room.”

“I’m going to call him Hummingbird.”

I cock a brow. “Who are you calling Hummingbird?”

“The pony you’re going to get me.”

I drop my bag, unamused. “I’m not getting you a pony.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m still in high school and don’t have a job. And even if I could buy you a pony, I wouldn’t.” I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe.

Mirabella frowns. “Why not?”

“Because you want to call your pony Hummingbird.”

“What’s wrong with Hummingbird? I like hummingbirds. And I like ponies. So, I’m calling my pony Hummingbird.”

“It’s dumb.” I pick up my backpack again and fling it over my shoulders.

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