Page 25 of Stuck Behind Her

“Well, then we’re going. I’ve been dying to go with someone, but everyone I know is either always busy or can’t go out in public. Or both,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s talking about Valentina. That’s what I’m predicting, at least. She can’t go out anywhere without being followed and crowded by fans, and it’s always worse when she’s with someone else.

“You have lots of friends, are none of them available?” I ask him. The streets and sidewalks aren’t as full as they usually are due to it being the middle of the week, so it’s quiet. We pass several small shops along the way, looking for a place thatLorenzo likes the look of. However, most shops on this road are trade shops, and we haven’t spotted any restaurants or cafes yet.

“I don’t have many friends here. There’s you, who I try to get a hold of when possible, though your dad hates you hanging out with me. There’s Lincoln, but he’s barely even my friend. I’m debating whether I should visit him at all. I mean, I think my dad is the only person who’s free most of the time, which is ironic because he’s usually the one who can’t catch up with anything. I need to find more friends,” he states.

“The only reason you are available right now is because you’re on vacation. Back in Portland, you were always busy planning things out or sketching new outfit designs,” I remind him. For Lorenzo’s age, he is a talented fashion designer and model. He says that his talent is naturally existent, and he practiced regularly by choice to get to where he is now. One day, he began designing things for his mother’s business. Now, he’s her assistant. Her second-in-command, as well as the media model for her designs. Many people like his designs and I’m surprised he can stay here for two months with all the demand.

“I thought you’d start working already. Roland’s so stuck on you taking over the business.”

“He is, which is why he doesn’t want me to start until I’m ready. Instead, he makes me take extra courses. He says they’ll be beneficial; however, they’re becoming a bore,” I tell him. Lorenzo rolls his eyes.

“Do you even like the courses? Or the whole designing thing in general?” he asks. I have to like it. I was raised on it and it’s been my future career since I was a child. My dad has made sure to take me to all his events so he could teach me what to expect in the future. He’s forced me to go to his office to show me how many things work. There isn’t anything else for me to like but designing.

“It’s not a matter of liking, it’s a matter of knowing. It is the only thing I’ve been taught to do,” I explain.

We find a spot for something to eat and decide on sitting there. We open the glass door and enter, order food, then sit on an empty table. The upside to eating here is it’s never empty, so no one will notice us. Even though we aren’t as known and “worshipped,” people still ask us questions or have pictures with us when they find it appropriate. Every time is appropriate in their opinions.

“Your dad needs to chill. In the modern world, some people might call that mental abuse. It’s very frowned upon in our community. Roland obviously doesn’t understand that, or he wouldn’t do it to his son.” Lorenzo is overreacting and I blink repeatedly at him.

“Why does everyone suddenly hate him? If anyone should hate him, it should be me,” I say. I know he’s greedy, but many business owners are, and I’ve never seen it affect anyone but my aunt, and I have talked to him about that. Whatever reason everyone else hates him for sounds different, and I wish I could understand what that is.

“Who else hates him except me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Violet also hates him. She hates me as well,” I tell him. He reacts with a laugh, throwing his head back.

“She told you that? She just straight up said she hates you?” He chuckles, impressed. I nod. “Look, she doesn’t hate you. She just doesn’t trust you yet. Violet is an understanding person.” He says.

My eyes widen slightly, and I tilt my head to the side. “She’s an understanding person?” I ask, confused. It’s obvious Lorenzo hasn’t realized what he has said.

“Yes, she is. She would’ve told me if she hates—” He then freezes, his mouth hanging open. “Shit.” He swears, hitting thetable with his fist and squeezing his eyes shut. He brings both hands to his head, covering his face. He murmurs more curses, but this time in Italian.

“You were saying?” I smile. He reveals his face, pleading. He said something he shouldn’t have.

“She's going to kill me,” he complains, acting out a cry. I think I’ve gotten what’s going on. They’re friends, and knew each other before they met at school, but they were hiding it for some reason.

“I knew something was wrong with you two. You both exchanged too many looks,” I point out. He gives me an ugly look, scrunching his face.

“You’re so smart, aren’t you? Ignoring the fact I’m going to get killed,” I laugh. He lets his head hang back. It then finally comes clear to me. Of course Violet is his friend. Violet is . . . Violet.

“Hart. That’s her last name.” I realize.

“Come on, man. She’s going to kill me if she knows you know. This has to stay a secret,” he pleads with me.

“You’re an idiot, Lorenzo,” I tell him and he sighs.

“I know,” He cries. He rests his head on the table, regretting his actions.This has to stay a secret.What would it change if anyone knew? I’ll just have to ask her tomorrow, and I’ll make sure she doesn’t get as angry at Lorenzo while I’m there. Well, if he has the strength to even go.

Chapter 12 – Settantatré

Val

I wake up late this time, quickly getting ready. Putting on a wig isn’t an easy and fast thing to do, so I always wake up an hour earlier than I should. Today my body decided sleeping an extra thirty minutes would be okay, though all it did was give me more stress. I grab my soft green hoodie with some words on the front and a pair of gray sweatpants, then slip them on. Thank God I don’t have to worry as much about what I’m wearing to school.

When I’m finally ready, I leave my room. At the entrance, Ellie is sitting on one of the couches. “You’re up late,” she comments.

“What, are you awake to criticize me?” I accuse. She frowns at my words.

“I wanted to ask you something,” she tells me. I look at the time on my phone screen. If I wait here any longer, I’m going to be late.

---