4 4) You like Whisky, I prefer Mojito

I drag my hand over my sweatshirt until I reach my elbow and grab it with great force

which I fear sooner or later I will break it like a piece of cane.

I avoid looking around for help and grit my teeth, as we are in a bar

secluded and quite hidden from the attention of people around us.

"Leave me alone." - I raise my chin, without moving an inch from his face:

"You don't wear those shorts that made me crazy, anymore ..." - he whispers, dragging me

on his body, while the waiter intervenes with a worried tone of voice:

"Bro ..." - I take my eyes off Paul, and then bring them to the young man beyond the counter.

As soon as I do this, I notice that Matthew is still there in front of him, now without the

blondie, while he empties his glass without calculating me.

Yet I'm sure he listened to everything, regardless of the volume of the music and his disinterested expression.

Bastard!

I shouldn't have come out of my hiding place: I would have been able to lock myself in my room

for the rest of my life in order not to collide with Paul again.

I surrender to be able to be saved from this situation while this man, who still holds me

by the elbow, stands up, making me miss a beat, but at the same time

Matthew imitates him from behind , leaving the chair with the empty glass in his hand.

I don't know why I keep keeping an eye on that asshole who doesn't move a finger

to help me, as I try to resist Paul trying to get me up.

"Be a good girl..."-he begins to say, but he doesn't have time to conclude what he starts to say that in a quick gesture,

Matthew raises his arm and hits Paul in the back of the head with the glass in his hand, while the piecez of glass scatter on the ground.

I open my mouth and immediately get to my feet, bringing a hand to my face while

Matthew's eyes end up in mine.

"You son of a..." - Paul immediately stands up to face the other, but freezes

immediately when he seems to recognize who he is in front of.

It is the last word that leaves his mouth before walking away, after throwing me

one last creepy look.

Some of people around us enjoyed the scene and whisper incomprehensible things to each other,

while others pretend nothing has happened.

As if nothing had happened Matthew sits down again:

"Another." - he orders the waiter in a cold and threatening tone, while I look at him

shocked from above, with the same expression as the young man, who shakes his head after a while

time, and then start serving it.

I move my gaze from him to the broken glass on the ground, until the moment I realize that

finally no one looks at us as before.

It could have killed Paul, and just the idea that it could have happened to free me from

that pervert makes me feel damn guilty.

I would've liked Matthew to intervene, but not in this way: if there had been someone else in his place

, surely it wouldn't have ended so well, but it is evident that Paul knows Matthew and,

for a reason unknown to me, it didn't jump around his neck like I thought he would.

I don't know whether to thank him or yell in his face for being so impulsive that in this

moment we might have needed an ambulance, but I can't breathe

equally, as I slowly return to sit down.

I keep looking at his well-defined profile and only now I notice the muscles in his neck

contract: I take advantage of his distraction to stare at him and memorize the details of his face.

His hair is shaved like Dwayne Johnson, while his eyes are almost green.

It is not just any green, but it is a strange shade so dark it gives it the air of a

threatening man.

Instead the full lips make him attractive: since yesterday morning I have never seen them rosy, but

always lit with an inviting color:

"You look like a black sheep among the angels of Victoria's Secret." - I start to hear his

hoarse voice, so I shake my head to realize his words, while he's still not

looking at me.

I frown at his words, but then I just roll my eyes, without

answering, since it's yet another person who offends my look tonight.

"Does he bother you?" - his sudden question perplexes me, but I understand that he refers

to the man who fled a little while ago thanks to him.

I clench my jaw as he continues to stare at his drink: he's been an asshole since the first

time we met, while now he's protective and minding my business.

"I had ordered another cocktail." - I take my eyes off the figure of Matthew and launch

a dirty look at the innocent young waiter, while the music starts deafening me again.

"Does my sweatshirt not fit your tastes?" - I find the courage to speak to him, even if

he told me to be careful what I say when I'm standing in front of him.

My question leads him to turn completely towards me, meeting my gaze

for a thousandth of a second, and then x-rays me from head to toe with his green pupils: it dwells on every part of my small body, and then returns to look at me as he

passes the tongue between the lips.

"On the contrary." - he merely says, raising a corner of his mouth, and then concludes

cheekily- "It makes you hot."

I lose myself in that vision as his reaction raises my heart rate, but I return to reality when the glass slips in front of me.

"You will never see me without it, put it on your head." - I return to reality when I realize that

his expression has only one meaning on a man's face.

"You think I want to fuck you?" - he raises an eyebrow, giving me a better view of his

puddles.

I just shrug my shoulders as I bite the inside of my cheek so I don't feel hit

from his ironic tone: he is slamming me in my face that I make him suck.

"At most you would be my best friend." - I snap my head up at his words,

ready to insult him in three different languages, but I freeze to see him smile close to my eyes.

Cabbages!

"We would never get along regardless." - I find the courage to breathe, staring at the

pair of dimples in the corners of his mouth.

"Why?" -he brings the glass to his lips, amused by my attitude.

"We are different." - the words come out of my mouth spontaneously, as look at the other glass in front of him: "You like whiskey, I prefer Mojito." - I raise my

chin in pride, firing the first thing that comes to my mind as I carry my

eyes on my drink.

"I also like Mojito." - he doesn't take off that provocative grimace, always wearing me

more uncomfortable.

"But I hate Whiskey." - I look him straight in the eye, while he swallows the rest

of the liquid all in one gulp, without even squinting from the burning.

He raises a corner of his mouth again, returning to look at me curiously, but from his lips

it doesn't come out a word, while I hold his eyes brazenly.

"Why did you move to Seattle?" - I ask, and then mentally slap myself

since I'm minding his business.

It is enough for me to see the smile die on his lips and the veins in his neck swell to understand

that his response will not be pleasant.

"Why are you an orphan?" - his question strikes me, as I expected, so I decide to reply as angry as he is, but his attention is captured by the little blonde girl a little while ago,

circling Matthew's neck with an arm and whispers something in his ear, without giving me the time to offend him.

I take my eyes off that view and go back to enjoying my rum, trying not to think

to his cold words.

Why are you an orphan?

That is: 'why have you been abandoned like a rag?' or 'why no one

wanted as a daughter? '

He could just throw a punch at me like he did with Paul, or threaten me to

shut my mouth again, but don't ask me that question.

"I'm not an orphan." - I whisper to myself, realizing that he has already gone away with his

woman leaving the chair empty.

I remember many things from my childhood better than what I ate this morning, but not

because I was treated badly, indeed, if I could I would go back in time and refuse to

grow.

There was only one evil nun at the Saint Cabrini Home: everyone feared and suffered

tortures of the Mary Nun, whom we all called Bloody Mary, even though I didn't understand it at the time

, but I was the only one that woman didn't hurt, thanks to him ...

I feel my eyes moisten at the memory of twenty years ago, when I thought the world was

like the games room where my brother and I used to spend the days, but then

I withdraw my tears for the promise I made to myself.

I jump in my chair as Tessa takes Matthew's place with a pleased expression

in her face: I realize that I have only drunk half of my Mojito when she steals it from me,

but I let it go, and then go back to staring at the people on the track.

"I thought you'd already been in the bathroom with someone to ..." - I interrupt her with a disgusted expression.

"Tessa!" - I take her back, but, in response, she bursts out laughing, and then gets up from her chair with the

glass in her hand and tell me to follow her.

I don't think twice about diving into the crowd with her, but I understand her

intentions only when she begins to move to the rhythm of the music, making me open my eyes wide.

I can't handle alcohol and lose the ability to reason after a glass of wine, but

not for this reason I will unleash myself in front of the eyes of all this people right now.

"Relax!" - she yells near my ear, making me take a grimace of annoyance, and then

continue- "They are all drunk, let yourself go!" - she says it almost scolding me, while

she turns her back and starts doing little hops.

I laugh at her moves, realizing that the most drunk of all is her, so I decide to

leave as soon as she moves away a few meters, but I am blocked by an arm that

rests under my chest and pulles me back.

My eyes widen at that touch and I feel the blood stop in my veins, imagining that it

can deal with Paul:

"Are you bored already?" - I roll my eyes and turn quickly when I realize that

that voice belongs to Taylor.

"You scared me, you idiot!" - I scream in his face, looking around with the impression of being

watched.

"And yet I was doing you a badass." - He brings his hand to my hair, ruffling it.

"Shall we dance?" - he asks immediately after, while he holds out his hand as if he were sending me to

dance a waltz: I shake my head at his words, but his gaze moves to two meters of

distance from us, while raising a hand.

I follow the direction of his eyes to notice that he is saying goodbye to Matthew's blondie, who

goes away from him while she is back to sit in the usual place in the bar, close to the bastard that is watching the pavement.

I clench my jaw to see him so serene and indifferent as his question returns

to repeat itself in my mind.

"Come on!" - he insists, while I shake my head again and start to leave:

"I don't want to make your girlfriend jealous." - I try to convince him, but he doesn't let me turn my

shoulders, replying immediately:

"She's already gone." - I can't hold back a laugh as she screams in my ear.

I burst out laughing like I haven't done in don't know how many days, while he takes advantage of it

shamelessly and grabs my hands, bringing them up and forcing me to move.

I keep laughing like a teenager who wants to get noticed by the guy a few meters away

distance and I can't stop even when I start imitating his steps.

I let myself go to the voice of Fergie, singing out loud with Taylor and emptying

my head from every thought, while I make turns so fast that I lose myself

balance.

I took a pill in Ibiza follows La la Love, making me raise my arms and forget about the

presence of Taylor, who has already found a new conquest.

The rum is starting to take effect and I feel much lighter than half an hour ago: I leave some strands

of my long hair tickle my face, then open my eyes suddenly when I feel the presence of someone behind me.

I straighten my spine and turn quickly, ready to attack, but I can't find

no one who cares about my presence, so I realize it was mine

impression, since lately I have delusions of persecution.

I shrug my shoulders and breathe normally again, following the music at a

very high volume, but this time with eyes open and careful not to lose sight of Taylor

or Tessa.

As I look around my eyes end up at the bar, where I catch Matthew staring at me with

insistence: he has not moved from his chair, even if now he turns his back to the counter, leaning on it

above one elbow, while raising the other arm to ingest more yellowish liquid.

I can perceive his attentive gaze even from a distance, but he does not take his eyes off

not even when he notices I'm looking at him.

I keep moving regardless of the discomfort that makes me feel the idea of ​​being observed,

even if I decide to turn my back on him.

I try to distract myself by moving my hips to the beat of the music, but I can't take it off

the image of Matthew reducing a glass beaker to a thousand fragments on the head of

Paul: I bite my lower lip as I close my eyes, repeating the scene and holding a

smile.

I should hate him for being so aggressive, but he really helped me and for how long

can be impulsive and proud, he deserved a thank you from me.

Instead we talked about everything but Paul and what had happened just before.

"We have to go!" - Tessa's voice exceeds the volume of the music near my ear,

then I frown, stopping to take the phone out of my pocket, only to notice that

it got really late:

"Tomorrow I have to go to work early." - she continues, while I nod to her words.

"It's only midnight." - Taylor interjects, pointing to the clock around his seat.

"See you tomorrow." - Tessa avoids his moans to give him a kiss on the cheek staggering,

while I just raise my chin to greet him.

I have been wanting to get out of this place from the moment I set foot in it, but I leave

glad I didn't do anything to regret the next day.

Tessa bursts out laughing behind me, which makes me frown and turn to her:

only now do I notice my friend's bloodshot eyes, so I open my mouth wide:

"What did you smoke tonight?" - I ask, but as an answer I get another clumsy laugh, while she

keeps looking for something in your pockets.

"I lost the keys!" - she screams, while she assumes an offended expression and folds her arms underneath

her chest like a little girl.

I clench my fingers in a fist as I curse the moment I decided to accept her

invitation.

It couldn't go all right, especially since I trusted Tessa and

Taylor.

"Need a ride?" - I jump up my head in hearing a hoarse voice and look around me

until I catch Matthew's figure leaning against a pillar at the entrance to the house.

I grit my teeth, noticing his amused expression as his lips purses

around a cigarette.

"Yes!" - Tessa immediately screams in a shrill voice, but I glare at him:

"Give it to the blonde." - I say in a detached tone, and then start rummaging in my pockets

of my friend, who tries to push me away from her body, but luckily I manage to

find the keys of her car.

"I wasn't talking to you." -he assumes a serious expression, which leaves me slightly perplexed,

while his eyes fall on the figure of Tessa, more surprised than me, but her astonishment

turns into a mischievous smile, as she approaches the man, who in turn throws the

cigarette on the ground.

"Tessa!" - I try to stop her, but she doesn't stop:

"You have a license, you can take my car." -she proposes, now suddenly more lucid.

I start to speak to convinces her to stop, but Matthew walks over and puts his hand down

on his lower back.

I remain impaled in the middle of the courtyard when they pass me and leave me alone in front of an

old Volkswagen and with a couple of keys in my hand, while my eyes go on

broad shoulders of Matthew helping Tessa get into his Discovery.