F A L L O N

"Play with tea, you get burned for it. My daddy always told me if he makes you cry, he ain't the one, you better run from him."

. . .

The following morning, I'm the first one to be up.

My feet skip over the floor, and down the stairs. Arriving in the kitchen, I decide to make myself a cup of tea when I stumble across a few letters scattered on the kitchen island.

I walk over to them and take them in my hand, out of curiosity to see if there's anything for me.

Which is never.

But as I go through the letters, I realize that none of them are addressed to me or my parents.

These are the letters Stella probably collected since her address is still at the house next door.

I pause when I see a letter between the other ones, with the initials A.A.S.

And it's opened already.

Don't do it. Don't do it.

"That's not yours."

I jump up when I hear the voice coming from the doorway of the kitchen. In shock, I throw all the letters back on the kitchen counter and take a step away, as if I was burned.

"I– I..." I stutter and try to get myself together. I shake my head and straighten my back.

"I know that," I tell him, "and I thought they were for us but I quickly realized they were yours and Stella's."

He enters the kitchen and raises a brow at me. "And yet, you were about to read my letter."

Red paints my cheek. "I wasn't," I whisper.

I really wasn't. I was thinking about it, yes, but I wouldn't do it.

"Lying is a sin, Fallon."

My stomach shouldn't feel those weird things it feels when I hear him say my name. My name rolls off his tongue so smoothly, it makes shivers run down my spine.

"Depends on who you're talking to," I retort, and realize I'm not making any sense.

He walks further into the room, coming to stand by the kitchen island.

"The Lord detests lying lips," he begins, and I instantly recognize those words.

"But he delights in people who are trustworthy," I finish, reciting the words from the Bible.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, clearly not having expected me to have some sort of knowledge over this subject.

Of course, I've read the Bible and Quran. Even the Tanakh. As someone who is addicted to history, it's a must that you read those.

It's filled with beautiful passages and poems. To get to know a religion and see the true beauty of it.

"Telling lies about others is as harmful as hitting them with an ax," he says, the tip of his tongue quickly appearing the lick his bottom lip.

"Wounding them with a sword, or shooting them with a sharp arrow," I whisper.

"What's your major?" he asks.

"Archeology," is my instant reply. Talking to him is like being high. The euphoria it brings makes me feel breathless and happy.

"Ever been to Rome?"

"Of course," I answer. "Greece?"

I glance off to the side and nod. "Yes," I say, before looking back into his eyes.

"You like history," he states, not asks. "Obviously," I reply.

He looks at me with an indecipherable look in his eyes. I don't know what he's thinking, and it bothers me.

He's not too far from me, leaning against the counter while looking into my eyes.

Even though I'm tall and all of the other guys that I've been with, were just an inch or two taller than me, I've never felt smaller than them. On the contrary, I felt like they emphasized my height.

But I have to crane my neck to look Nicholas in the eyes, his figure towering over mine and his broad shoulders intimidating me.

I'm close enough to see the faintest of freckles on his nose, and it's so damn cute to see them on him.

His dark hair is ruffled up, some curls hanging loosely across his forehead. He's wearing a simple white shirt that clings to his muscles and broad frame and a pair of black sweatpants.

"What about England?"

"Yet to visit," I say, with a little smile. I've gone to a lot of places with mom and dad, but England is yet the country that I have to go to.

I'd die to go there. I've binged enough shows and read enough books and articles to already know a lot about the history, but I want to see it all with my own eyes.

"You'd like to go?" he asks. I nod frantically and feel my sweaty hands. Deciding to distract myself, I turn around and take a cupboard cup, then take the kettle and fill it with water.

"I'd love to go, it's on my bucket list," I answer honestly. "I've been and seen a lot of places, nothing wins over Greece, though," he says.

"No? I mean, I loved Greece, but I've seen it already. So I want to see something new," I shrug.

"You're not as much of a fan of the Greek mythology?" he asks. I nod my head. "Oh, I am! I'm obsessed with it," I answer.

"You like it?" I ask. "Yes," he answers from behind me. I take a bag of tea and sugar. "My mom is named after a Greek goddess, and I've been curious about it ever since I was a child," he explains.

That's something new, and I cling to the little piece of information of himself like a lifeline. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I contemplate asking the next question since it's weird having a full conversation like this with him.

I take the kettle and pour the boiling water into the cup, before turning around to face him.

"Which tale is your favorite?" I ask.

"I have multiple," he answers, still looking into my eyes, "but I guess Eros and Psyche do stand out."

I'm surprised by his answer. Eros and Psyche. Their tale is beautiful, yet painful.

About forbidden love.

Love that never was supposed to be there. Eros was sent out by his mother, Aphrodite, to hit Psyche with an arrow that would make her fall in love with a despicable creature, since many claimed Psyche to be more beautiful than the vain Goddess of beauty and love.

And Aphrodite couldn't handle people falling for someone else.

But as soon as Eros laid eyes on Psyche to fulfill his mother's wishes, he fell in love with her instantly and couldn't do it. Though, Psyche became this unlovable girl, one that many admired but could never fall for.

And then shit went downhill.

"That's an interesting story," I bring out, and take a sip of my boiling tea. It burns my tongue, and pain courses through me.

But I don't show. I just grin away my pain and turn around, putting my cup back on the counter before exhaling.

"What's yours?"

"Ares and Aphrodite."

He raises a brow. "Really? I think that one is kind of a cliché," he shrugs. I scoff.

"Excuse you, might as well say that every one of them is a cliché," I snort.

He opens his mouth to respond, but then we hear some footfall in the hallway, and my mom appears in the doorway.

She sends us a sleepy smile. "Good morning," she grins and walks into the kitchen.

"Buenos días, Mami," I greet her and press a kiss on her cheek.

"Buenos días. Dormiste bien?" she asks. I nod and watch as she makes herself a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, Nicholas," she chirps, and Nicholas sends her a little smile. "Good morning, how did you sleep?"

"Bad, my headache is killing me," she sighs. "I don't think it'd be good for you to drink coffee then," I notice.

She shrugs and waves it away. "You know how I get without my coffee," she chuckles. "Want some scrambled eggs? With fried ham?"

"Yeah, I'd love that."

I exit the kitchen with my gaze cast downwards while holding the little moment with Nicholas close to my heart.

Even though it's fucking pathetic.

As I'm up in my room, I can't help myself and go on to my laptop again, wanting to know more things about Nicholas.

Locking the door behind me, I take my laptop with me and settle myself on my bed.

The name Amoretto seems so familiar, yet I can't put my finger on it.

This time, I type in Nicholas' name on Google and hit enter.

I see he has his own Wikipedia page, and my eyebrows shoot up in the air. My eyes skim over the words.

Nicholas Vincenzo Amoretto is the 34-year-old older brother of singer Elena Amoretto, better known as Ella Robertson, frontwoman of the band Icarus.

Ella Robertson! I remember reading her real name in the past but never bothered to remember it.

That's why the name ringed a bell. And their features look alike.

So, he's the brother of this super famous singer? He sure doesn't act like it.

I've never seen him swarmed with paparazzi. I assume they bother the family members as well?

I look up his sister and see tons of articles and search results appear. I click on images and see her appear.

She's got bright, green eyes that are curious and full of wonder. And when she smiles, a dimple pops out. Her hair is light brown and long and looks so, so silky, it seems like she comes straight out of a shampoo commercial.

I've always listened to her music. Even from years ago. At thirty-two, she's still successful. With millions of listeners.

I go to check out who she's married to – if she's married.

But as I'm about to check out her love life, a knock resounds on the door.

Quickly closing every site I'm on and then shutting my laptop, I scurry over to my door and open it, revealing Stella, dressed in her attire for the hospital.

"You locked the door, huh? Watching porn?" she asks and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

I wish.

"Totally," I snort and let her into my room. "So, what are you up to, today?" she asks. I shrug.

"Just being a lazy bitch. You?"

"I'm going to work in an hour, gotta go get ready but I wanted to say good morning first," she smiles and takes a seat on my bed, tucking her feet beneath her.

"Good morning," I state dryly, causing her to roll her eyes.

"Ain't you a morning person," she says sarcastically. "Always," I reply with a sweet smile.

I want to ask about Nicholas' sister, but I don't want her to find out how I've been stalking him.

I just hope that she'll bring it up one of these days. She for sure has to tell me more about her fiancé, and we haven't gotten the time to do that, yet.

Stella is rambling about a new patient of hers, and I catch myself failing to pay attention.

Why am I such a bad friend lately?

I'm hardly interested in whatever Stella has to tell me and I'm obsessing over the man she's going to marry.

Only the bad kind of friend does that.

"Hey, how about we do a movie night tomorrow?" I ask her, a little smile coming on both of our faces.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea! Your mom is making tequeños!" Stella grins excitedly.

After all these years, her accent is still funny, but she doesn't like it when I tease her about it.

"She is?" I ask, surprised. It's a snack from Venezuela that she discovered and loves. It's breaded cheese sticks.

But she never makes it when I ask her to since she doesn't have a lot of time.

But I'm glad she's doing that now, I could make some more snacks, and prepare them for tomorrow since I have a lot of time anyway.

"Okay. Your mom told me that breakfast is ready, so you should go downstairs. I need to go now, see you this evening," Stella says and gives me a quick hug, before exiting my bedroom and walking down the hallway.

A few seconds later, I hear Stella's voice from the garden. "Bye baby!"

Without knowing how to stop myself, I walk over to my window and see Stella's blonde head run into Nicholas' arms.

His hands envelop her tiny body, hugging her close to him while his mouth descends to hers.

I glance away at their intimate moment, the sight of his hands on her, hurting me for some strange reason.

Instead, I go downstairs and into the kitchen, where mom is serving breakfast. 

. . .

I'm sorry for the long wait. But I'm in the middle of my exams and they are a priority right now.

Though I had a big part of this chapter pre-written, it was easy to add some parts. 

It's a lame chapter, but it is needed for the complete thing so yeah... here you go. 

Also, I have the plot figured out for Elena's story sksksksk, and to think that I didn't want to write a book about her. 

Anyway, genuine question; could the way I write smut be improved? Cause I feel like there's missing something, but I don't know what. 

Thank you so much for reading!

I love you <33