Chapter Two,

Bad Impressions

Yuly's eyes barely left her phone screen as her finger scrolled down her sister's Instagram page—a page she had unblocked solely for the purpose of this clandestine stalking. The familiarity of her own reflection in every post contrasted sharply with the foreign life her sister led. "What do you want me to say? That she's hideous? Mia, we have the same face."

Jamilah Heart was a woman of culture, worldly and well-traveled. Her long, black hair cascaded down her face in elegant ringlets, her eyes radiating joy in every photo Yuly scrutinized. Jamilah's travels took her to Milan, her vacations were spent in SoHo. And in every frame that wasn't about drinks, meals, or her friends, there he was—James, his honey-brown gaze filled with adoration. The sight tied a knot in Yuly's stomach, but as if possessed, she couldn't stop looking. Her sister was living a life Yuly had only read about, and she was doing it all with the man Yuly had once loved more than she loved herself.

"This was a mistake," she muttered to herself. And she knew it was. She thought she was over this, but she clearly wasn't. "She's..."

"She's what?" Mia's voice cut through her pity party.

"Happy," Yuly replied, her resignation evident. "She's so happy she glows. I shouldn't have listened to you. What was the point of this? To rub it in my face?"

"How was I supposed to know she'd still... look like you? Don't they say evil never prospers? She shouldn't be prospering, it's not the way of the world."

But wasn't it? Yuly rolled her eyes, leaning against a rack of vintage clothes as she scrolled further. "I don't think that's—," an accidental slip sent her finger slipping, and suddenly, she saw a terrifying red heart. "Oh my god, I liked it!"

Not just any picture. A picture of Jamilah and James sharing a kiss in front of the Eiffel Tower unironically captioned "baecation". A two-year-old picture. Panic set in, her mind racing with the thought that Jamilah would know. She'd know she'd gotten the invitation, she'd know Yuly had been stalking her page, and— "oh my god, oh my god"

"You what?" Mia gasped, her voice a high-pitched squeak. "Well, unlike it! What the hell? Hurry up before she sees it!"

But it was already too late. Yuly didn't even get a chance to take it back before a notification flashed across her screen. "Shit, shit, shit, she sent me a message!" The anxiety in her voice was palpable. Shoppers in the thrift store cast puzzled glances her way, but Yuly was oblivious.

"What? What does it say?"

In an instant, another message popped up across the screen. Fucking hell. "I don't know!" Yuly rushed in a whisper, tossing her phone into the cart in a desperate attempt to distance herself from the impending disaster. She had only glimpsed a few words: something along the lines of 'Yuly, I'm so glad you reached out to me,' and 'I missed you' and—and God, was Milah really so dense?

I missed you?' Did she really say that?

Did she think that everything between them was fine? What on earth gave her that idea? A single like? She folded her arms across her chest, pacing a bit where she stood, Mia's words were a muffled backdrop against the rising tide of Yuly's panic. Did Jamilah actually think she'd accept that invitation?

She knew she looked insane, pacing in the store, biting her thumbnail as she cast sideways glances at the phone sitting precariously amidst her thrift store finds. An elderly man, grungy and disheveled, bumped into her rudely, shooting her a dirty look at the scene she was making in the middle of the usually quiet space. A rush of heat surged to her cheeks, her ears tinged the same rosy hue.

Before she could think twice, she snatched her phone, her fingers fumbling with the screen, unliking the wretched photo and then, with a deep breath to steel herself, she blocked Jamilah again—for good this time. Her face was flushed crimson with embarrassment, and one thing became glaringly certain in her mind.

She was never, ever listening to Mia Andreas again.

Her fingers tapped impatiently along the table, lips pouting as she stared into empty space. Yuly had volunteered to help Nonna cook—something she wasn't particularly good at, she knew—and while she wasn't skilled in the culinary arts, she rarely burned things that came with specific instructions. But as she stared down at that pot, as her mind began to drift to the invitation burning her thoughts, the pot started to burn, filling the small apartment with fetid smoke. The small elderly woman rightfully banished her from the kitchen, leaving Yuly to wait by the wayside with nothing but her thoughts at an empty table.

And those thoughts kept drifting back to the cursed invitation tucked away in her bedside dresser in her apartment.

Yuly was tempted to walk upstairs and throw it in the trash.

Only her sister could be so careless, so reckless, as to send an invitation to her, especially after the last time the two had spoken. And now, after four years, they wanted to speak with her? To invite her to their engagement party? To get her blessing? To say she missed her like this wasn't all their fault?

She almost laughed, amused at their sheer audacity. How could they be so fucking selfish?

The sound of a door shutting brought her back to reality. Confused, she glanced up, only to be winded by the sight of the man before her, staring into gray eyes so light that they seemed clear. Without a doubt, she knew who was standing before her. Gray, the amnesiac.

Yuly didn't want to stare, but she simply couldn't help it. Everything about him was breathtaking. His dark hair was styled in an undercut fade, pushed away from his face. Prominent brows offset his relentlessly cold gaze, narrowing slightly as he stared down at her. And his body.

Her gaze shamelessly traveled down the length of his body, noting the muscles that flexed under his short-sleeved white t-shirt, and the long legs hidden under pitch-black jeans. Where did they find this man, a GQ magazine?

His sharp, angular jaw clenched as his eyes slowly traveled from her face down her body, just as she did him moments ago. From the rose-colored satin slip dress that hugged her curves like a second skin, to her thick thighs that flared out from her hips. Everywhere his eyes looked, every curve they traced, made her feel exposed. She looked away, feeling heat flood her cheeks as her thighs clenched together. Self-conscious. She felt so self-conscious in that very moment, it was embarrassing.

Would she have reacted to this man this way if she had gone on the dates Nonna suggested? Was she so desperate, so starved for physical attention, that a mere glance from a stranger could make her body react this way? It was mortifying.

He stepped past her wordlessly, drifting into the kitchen without giving her another glance. Yuly let out a sigh of relief, feeling free from a pressure she couldn't quite explain.

"Dimmi che non è quello che penso, non ancora," she heard his deep voice say, Italian falling from his lips naturally. Yuly frowned, glancing over her shoulder. He stood in the kitchen, angrily staring down at Nonna. "L'hai invitata qui per incontrarmi? Te l'ho già detto-"

Nonna laughed up at the man towering over her. "Non è qui per te, ragazzo sciocco. È mia amica, dalla libreria."

Yuly couldn't understand a word they were saying, but she knew how to read the room: he was angry, and it was because of her. She would have to be blind to miss the way he looked at her. Clearly, Gray was not expecting to see her here, and it showed.

Usually, Yuly was the only unsuspecting party to Nonna's blind dates. It hadn't even occurred to her, not even for a second, that he would be caught off guard as well by the surprise date Nonna planned for her. But Nonna clearly did not care. She patted his shoulder, wearing a jovial smile as she spoke again.

"Ora vai a rinfrescarti. Il cibo è pronto e devi mangiare con noi."

That was all she said as she walked past him, grabbing plates of food as she went. Yuly watched as he turned away and disappeared down the hall. Then, she turned to Nonna, who gave her a warm smile.

"Is everything alright?" she asked timidly, frowning slightly. "Because, I can leave if-"

"Don't worry about it, passerota," Nonna said, placing a delicious-looking plate of food before her. It took everything Yuly had not to devour the meal before her. "He was simply being difficult, that's all."

Difficult. Yuly hoped that was all it was as she watched the woman set the table, preparing wine glasses and bringing servings for both her and Gray. But her hope died when he returned, silently sitting across from her without so much as a glance her way.