Page 1 of Sworn to My Heart
Prologue
“Number 64,” the clerk at Sweet Ice Cream in Manhattan calls out, and I sigh as I glance at my receipt again. My order number is still 76. The lines here seem endless, but there’s a reason for that. This is the best ice cream shop in New York, according to top dessert critics and countless online reviews.
I wait another five minutes and suddenly hear, “Number 76.”
I step forward with a smile to pick my order, surprised it arrived so quickly, even though I’ve been waiting for half an hour.
“How did the order number jump to 76 so fast?” I ask the worker handing me an ice cream cone dripping with melted chocolate and topped with cookies. Yes, definitely the best ice cream in New York.
“Orders often aren’t processed sequentially; it’s a system thing,” he grins before disappearing back into serving the crowd of customers.
I lick the dripping chocolate off the sides of the cone, savoring the cold sweetness. It’s one of the things I miss the most about being on land.
As I head toward the exit, cleaning my fingers that got a bit messy from the dripping chocolate, I suddenly bump into a girl who appears out of nowhere in front of me. Of course, my ice cream ends up smeared all over her white dress.
“Nooo, my ice cream!” I shout in frustration. Only then do I look up and meet the girl’s eyes. She’s tall, and being on the petite side, I have to tilt my head back to see her face.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” I say. I’ve made a mess. I immediately pull tissues from my small bag and start dabbing at her dress without asking for permission or waiting for her reaction.
After a few quick wipes, it seems the stain is only spreading, and I bow my head. I don’t remember the last time I was this embarrassed. But then, unexpectedly, the girl starts laughing.
“Don’t worry, it’s okay. I have plenty of dresses like this. It seems the ice cream here really is as good as they say if you didn’t even notice me while eating it,” she says with a smile, taking the tissue from my hand and tossing it into a nearby trash can.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, and she gives me a warm glance.
“It’s okay. Come on, let me make it up to you. I’ll buy you a new ice cream,” she says, heading toward the counter without waiting for my response.
I quickly follow her, trying to stop her, but a tall man in black sunglasses steps in front of me and stands beside her, blocking my way. Before I can figure out what’s happening, another man joins her, hugging her possessively from behind as she stands in line.
“Hey, don’t buy me ice cream. If anything, I should be buying you one. I ruined your dress,” I say loudly from the other side of the man standing between us. Immediately, both men look at me curiously.
The girl examines me with a raised eyebrow. “I guess you’re not from around here. Most New Yorkers would be looking to start a fight and demand compensation for their lost ice cream,” she says with a grin, “That just made me want to insist on buying you an ice cream even more.” I’m surprised by her directness butlaugh at her response. She’s very nice.
“So, let’s make a deal: we both need to make it up to each other. You treat me today, and next time, I’ll treat you somewhere else,” I say and smile affectionately as she is a bit far from me, waiting for her agreement. Maybe I will make friends after all.
She returns my smile and nods. “Sounds like a great deal. I’m Cora, and this is my husband, Mariano,” she points to the man hugging her. It’s hard to ignore her beauty; she’s radiant and to be honest, her husband is also very handsome–quite the perfect match.
A small hope blossoms in my chest. “I’m Alin.” I smile, maybe I won’t be so lonely after all.
Alin
There’s a knock at my apartment door, and I run excitedly to open it. Cora, my best and only friend, stands there with a mischievous smile. She immediately pushes past me, storming into my small Manhattan studio like a whirlwind.
“Come on, girl, not ready yet?” she tosses a large shopping bag onto my bed. “Hurry, messy”
I glance around my sparse apartment—a bed, a kitchenette, a wardrobe, and a small dresser filled with cosmetics, thanks to Cora. The bathroom mirror is too high for me to see myself unless I stand on my toes. Messy what?
“What are you waiting for?” Cora demands impatiently. “We’re going out tonight, hurry up and get ready,” she adds, and I look at her in confusion.
“Going out where? I thought we were having a pizza and movie night,” I reply irritably, crossing my arms in a failed attempt to express my disappointment.
“Alin, you don’t even have a TV here... How do you live like this?” Cora exclaims, rolling her eyes. “I bought you a present, and you’re using it tonight. After all this time, I finally convinced Mariano to let me go out with you alone.”
Her wavy, chestnut hair cascades down to the middle of her back, her greenish-honey eyes sparkling with excitement. Shelooks like a Barbie doll, standing at about five foot seven, all dressed up and ready to go.
“Your husband let you out alone? I don’t believe you. Where’s Graham?” I tease, immediately laughing as her proud expression turns to one of half-apology, half-exasperation.
She walks to the window and points down. I peek outside and spot Graham’s familiar black jeep parked below, and my laughter erupts.
