Page 2 of Vow of Vengeance

I don’t like messy.

Carter is easy. Easy to look at, easy to be with—no drama, no expectations. With Carter in my bed, I get a few hours where I don’t have to think about anything. The current state of my life is the last thing I want to focus on.

The night I blew out the eighteen candles on my birthday cake, surrounded by my mother and grandparents, something changed inside of me. I’m supposed to be an adult and make plans for my future, but it’s difficult when I don’t know my past. I want to know more about my father. What did he do that was so bad no one in my family would speak his name? Why did they move us away from Scotland to Italy, a place no one had ever heard of him?

I flop back onto my bed, staring at the water stain on the ceiling left by a leak from the apartment bathtub above.

The house is quiet—too quiet.

My mom should be drinking her Friday night wine and playing cards with my grandparents in our small dining room. Out of character, the three of them have gone out tonight. A man named Liam invited them for dinner at a fancy place called “the Villa.” I was scrubbing a stubborn stain from our kitchen sink, so I kind of tuned out while she was telling me about it. No one can get the kitchen to my level of sparkle.

I still have the floor to mop. After working a double shift, I’m too tired to clean. I barely had the energy to shower, but I needed to shampoo the smell of fried food from my hair. I’m dozing off when the notification sound on my phone goes off again.

I reach for my phone. It’s a reminder that tuition is due on the first of December. My stomach sinks as I hit dismiss. Just this morning, Mom said she’d paid it in full. I asked her where she got the money, and she said not to worry about it. But something feels off.

When we first moved here, I didn’t speak a word of Italian. My grandparents didn't want me to feel isolated before I learned the language, so they insisted I attend the International School, a prestigious institution primarily for rich, American expat kids. Grandma helped Mom apply for a needs-based scholarship, which I was granted.

The day I turned fifteen, I got a job to help with the costs of uniforms and supplies. Now, I’m the proud owner of a McDee’s apron, a decent education—though I still struggle with my grades, especially in French class—and I even have a tacky American nickname: Opie.

Every time I would enter a room, the kids at my school would belt out the chorus of the melodic song by the Lumineers, titled with my first name, until everyone got sick of the word Ophelia.

Carter calls me Phee, which isn’t as bad. Now, Carter’s outside my window, whisper-yelling for me.

“Phee! I’m coming up.”

Jumping up from the bed, I cross the room again, pushing the window up the rest of the way. The temperature has dropped since I first opened it, so I hang my head out in the evening air.On the street, he’s bent down, his shoulders flexing against the tight T-shirt fabric he’s wearing as he locks his black BMX bike. I feel warm just looking at him. I lean further out the window.

“I’m here.”

He glances up at me with a smile of anticipation. “I see.”

I love the way he moves. He’s all grace and muscles as he climbs the shaky, metal fire escape ladder up to my room. I step back to allow his almost-man-sized frame to crawl through.

We stand there for a moment, sizing one another up. He wears gray sweatpants with the black T-shirt. On him, they look phenomenal.

“Come here.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “You must be freezing.”

“Nah. My blood runs pretty hot when I’m coming to see you.” He smiles down at my pajama pants. “Nice jammies.”

I glance down at the cream flannel printed with bright green Christmas trees. “’Tis the season.”

“A month early.” He slips his arms around my waist. “But sexy as hell. Let’s take them off.”

Having no plans to lose my clothing, I reach up to kiss him. A sweet yet sour smell stops me. Alcohol?

I pull back, my nose crinkling. “Have you been drinking?”

“I had a few drinks with the guys on the team before I came over. I wanted to loosen up a little.” He brings his mouth to my ear, the scent stronger. “I thought we could try something else tonight. Something better than oral.”

My body tenses. “What’s wrong with what we usually do?”

“I like what we do. You’re good with your mouth,” he chuckles, continuing, “Like,reallygood.” He brushes my hair back from my face. “But I want more.”

I do not want more.

I like how he looks. I like his easy company. But I don’t want him enough to gothere. My arms drop from his shoulders. I flatten my hands against his chest. “I don’t think so.”

He tightens his hold around my waist, pulling me closer as I try to step back. “Come on. It’ll feel good.”

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