Aaron Giovanni;
I waited for her to finish the call, the air between us soured by whoever was on the other end. Still, those few minutes with her had felt nothing short of magical.
She stepped out of the bathroom, her face completely unreadable. That call must've been rough.
"I need to be somewhere. We'll talk when I get back," she said, avoiding my eyes.
"I could drive you, if you want?" I offered, but she just waved me off.
"I'll be fine. Don't wait up—I'm not sure when I'll be back," she said, grabbing her phone and purse without a second glance.
Just like that, the universe found a new way to cockblock me.
I couldn't shake the feeling gnawing at me. Would I have actually gone through with it if she hadn't answered that call?
I'm not exactly known for doing relationships—hell, I barely do women—but there was something about her. Even if what we had wasn't real, maybe we could've figured something out that worked for both of us.
It was past 11 p.m., and still no sign of Camilla. I tried calling, but she didn't pick up. Yeah, she told me not to wait up, but worrying wasn't exactly optional.
An hour later, still nothing. I gave up and went to bed alone, hoping—wherever she was—she was safe.
The next morning, I woke to the sound of the door clicking shut.
She was back.
Dragging myself out of bed, I spotted her moving around the room, trying to pull herself together. The moment she noticed I was awake, she spoke first.
"Hi. Good morning," she said, flashing a small, tentative smile.
"Morning. You okay?" I asked awkwardly, not wanting to pry into where she'd gone—but still, a little part of me wished she'd just tell me. Just saying.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about last night... I really had to leave," she said, her explanation as vague as the night before.
"I'm just glad you're safe," I replied warmly.
"I'll jump in the shower first," she announced, motioning toward the bathroom.
"Sure, sure," I said, a bit too quickly.
Okay... this is weird. Really fucking weird.
"I'll head down for breakfast," I half-yelled after her as she disappeared into the bathroom.
"I'll be down in a minute!" she shouted back.
Shaking my head with a half-smile, I made my way to the dining room.
Father wasn't home—probably out conquering more of the city. It was just Camilla, me, and the house staff.
Breakfast was already set. As I lifted the lids covering the dishes, a wave of mouthwatering aromas filled the room. Coffee, made just the way I liked it—plain, no sugar, no milk—was already steaming on the table.
I pulled out my phone, scrolling through spots around town. Maybe a picnic? A date? I wanted to take her somewhere today... if she'd say yes.
A few minutes later, the lady of the hour came bouncing in, tapping my shoulder playfully as she slid into the seat beside me.
She was radiant—smiling, light, her mood completely different from the night before.
Or maybe it was just my lust-blinded eyes playing tricks on me.
She grabbed a waffle, drowning it in syrup, and took a big bite. She closed her eyes and moaned softly in pure bliss.
"This is so good," she said, mouth full.
I chuckled when I noticed a drip of syrup clinging to the corner of her lip.
"What?" she asked innocently.
"You've got... something on your face," I said, trying not to laugh.
She wiped at her mouth but missed completely.
Without thinking, I leaned in.
For a moment, everything else faded away—the world, the noise, even my own doubts. I reached out, wiped the syrup from her lips... and without hesitation, I licked it from my thumb.
Oh, shit.
I licked it.
My eyes widened in shock. I hadn't meant to do it... but I did.
Across from me, her cheeks flushed pink as she quickly turned her attention back to her food.
I had no idea what to say. Apologizing would only make it worse—and I'd already made enough of a fool of myself for one morning.
We ate in silence, both painfully aware of each other's presence. Every clink of cutlery sounded louder than it should have.
"Thanks for breakfast," she finally said, rising from her seat. "Could you please thank the chef for me? Breakfast has never tasted this good."
I knew I had to act fast before she slipped away.
"Of course," I said, standing too quickly. "Also... let me take you out. Just a fake date, if you want to call it that." I tried to keep my tone light, to cut through the awkwardness still hanging between us.
She bit her lower lip—something she always seemed to do when she was deep in thought.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "I wanted to spend the whole day with my mom."
"It'll just be lunch. One hour, tops. I'll even pick you up from the hospital," I insisted.
She sighed, considering it for a moment.
"Alright then. One hour and no more," she agreed, finally.
"One hour," I promised, sealing the deal.
"Done," she said with a small smile.
Later that day, I made my way to the hospital to pick her up.
I didn't come empty-handed—I'd brought a bouquet of fresh flowers and a fruit basket for her mom.
A nurse kindly pointed me toward the right ward. As I approached, I spotted Camilla deep in conversation with her mother, her brows furrowed, her voice low.
"Hi, Aaron, right?" her mom called out when she noticed me.
Camilla looked up and smiled faintly, motioning for me to come closer.
"Hello, ma'am," I said warmly, stepping forward and handing her the flowers. "We meet again... though not under the best circumstances."
She smiled as she accepted the bouquet, breathing in the sweet scent.
"Thank you for the flowers, Aaron. That was very thoughtful of you," she said, her voice soft but genuinely appreciative.
"You're welcome, ma'am. I'm wishing you a speedy recovery," I said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "And... sorry for not getting here sooner."
"Nonsense," she said warmly. "You're right on time. Taking time out of your day to visit little old me? You've already made it special."
Then she winked at me, sneaking a look at her daughter.
"Mom..." Camilla warned, a flush creeping up her neck.
"What? You're not the one hooked up to all these tubes," her mom said, chuckling. "No reason for you to be cooped up here while this fine young man is waiting for you."
I smiled, trying to downplay it. "It's alright, ma'am. I don't mind hanging around for a bit."
But she waved off my modesty without hesitation.
"Not on my watch, young man. Take her. Go. Have some fun. I'm not dying anytime soon," she added with a wink.
Camilla gave her mom a look—a mix of exasperation and affection—but her mother just laughed.
"Come on, loosen up," she teased. "You'll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that."
Reluctantly, Camilla chuckled, the tension easing from her face.
"Alright, Mom. But I'll be back soon, okay? You better rest," she said, leaning in to kiss her mother on both cheeks.
"I will, baby. Now go have fun—and maybe give me a grandbaby or two!" she teased with another wink.
"MOM!" Camilla gasped, scandalized, grabbing my hand and practically dragging me out of the room before her mother could say anything else.
I laughed as we rushed out, calling over my shoulder, "See you later, ma'am!"
Aaron's driver dropped us off at an amusement park.
We wandered around, taking it all in. Eating ice cream, riding the carousel, screaming our lungs out on the rollercoaster.
It had been forever since I'd laughed that hard—or screamed that loud.
At some point, Aaron led me to a clown selling balloons. He paid for one and handed it to me with an exaggerated bow.
"Here you go, milady," he said, grinning.
"I humbly accept your modest gift of... a rubber filled with air, kind sire," I played along, giving him a grand, over-the-top bow in return.
"You look really pretty when you smile, Camilla," he said suddenly, voice softening. "Don't ever let anyone take that for granted."
I blinked, taken aback for a second.
"If you weren't gay," I teased, trying to lighten the heavy moment, "I'd think you were hitting on me."
He swallowed, hard enough that I noticed.
Was he...?
"Yeah, yeah," he said, waving it off with a laugh, but something in his eyes lingered a little longer than it should have.
My phone rang, slicing through the crumbling silence between us.
I reached into my pocket, but the moment I saw the caller ID, my stomach twisted.
Without thinking twice, I declined the call and shoved the phone back into my pocket.
"Sure that wasn't important?" Camilla asked, her voice careful. "I'd hate to keep you if you have somewhere else you need to be."
How could I even begin to explain that it was Michael calling—again? That the ex who refused to stay in the past was now blowing up my phone, desperate for attention?
Before I could figure out what to say, a text popped up on the screen:
Don't blame me if I end up killing myself. I just need one chance to explain. Then I'll be out of your life.
I clenched my jaw. He had some nerve.
I didn't know whether to believe him or not. Michael could be dangerously impulsive when he wanted to be.
Hell, once he even slit his wrist because I refused to sleep with him one night. I'd had to rush him to the hospital, barely holding it together.
Pathetic, clingy bastard.
A heavy sigh escaped me as I turned back to Camilla, guilt gnawing at my chest.
"I hate to do this, Camilla," I said, forcing the words out. "But I really need to go. I promise I'll make it up to you."
She nodded, masking her disappointment with a polite smile. "Of course... take your time."
"My driver will take you wherever you want to go," I added, stepping closer and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before hurrying away, my mind already racing toward the disaster waiting for me.