Forbidden Knots (Shadow Duet #1)

14. FOURTEEN

FOURTEEN

Storm

I was already at the cliffs as the noon sun hit its zenith. Italians never go to the beach around noon; Grandma says only crazy people do. But I didn't go to the beach at noon because I was crazy. I went because I wanted to avoid people. It wasn't that I hated the whole human race, just a few people in particular.

As I lay down, my blouse placed over my head to create some shade and prevent my face from getting red, I heard Sophie's voice approaching.

"Thalia," she shouted, removing the blouse from my face so I could see her. "Were you sleeping?"

"Just a little," I lied, not wanting to confess I was ignoring her.

"Tristan and Chiara are coming here, so I just wanted to give you a heads-up," she said. "I know you don't like her, but since I'm dating her brother, maybe we should bury the hatchet."

I looked at her, blinking and squinting in the bright sunlight. "I hate her, but fine."

"Okay," she said, moving her towel toward the shade. "She can be nice, you'll see."

"When she’s not around..." I mumbled.

"What?" Sophie asked.

"I said when she’s not around!" I laughed.

"Don’t be mean," she said, chuckling and throwing her towel at me. Then she walked over to pick it up.

I removed the blouse from my eyes as they closed in, and as Chiara saw me, she immediately snapped, "Sophie, what is this liar doing here?"

"Uhm," Sophie started, but as soon as she opened her mouth, I stood up and began packing my things. I knew neither of us wanted to be here together, and I felt more comfortable in my bedroom than sharing the same air as Chiara.

But as I brushed past them, Tristan caught my hand. "You were here first; we will go."

"No, we are staying," Chiara said, continuing to mumble in Italian, " Non me ne vado. "

"Fine, then I will go with Thalia," Tristan said, standing up. "You are acting like a brat."

Chiara stood up with him, raising her hand as if to slap him, but he caught her wrist and pushed her back against the rock, his hand holding her neck. "I said I am leaving."

Instead of jealousy, I saw fear in her eyes. She just nodded, her breathing faster, and held her head down as he moved away from her.

"After you," he gestured to me, and as I walked in front of him, he followed.

I could hear his breathing close behind me, but I didn’t turn back. I just walked until we reached the steps to the road. Then he passed me and held out his hand.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, standing in front of him.

"And why do you never defend yourself?" he asked, walking ahead.

"Sometimes it's smarter to walk away," I said, following him.

He lowered his head and shrugged his shoulders, waiting until I caught up. Then he continued at the same pace as me.

"Sometimes it's smarter to tell the bully off," he said.

"Like she did to you?" I asked. "We all have bullies in our lives. They like to choose someone weaker so they can have control."

He smiled. "I was just trying to protect you."

"I don't need your protection, Tristan," I said. "Besides, did you even think about how Sophie would feel in front of her boyfriend's sister?"

"What?" he asked, surprised. "Sophie is dating Christian?"

"You didn’t know?" I asked. "Please don’t tell her I told you."

"Fuck," he said, hitting the closest wall.

I gasped as his hand left a red trail on the wall. "Hey," I shouted, grabbing his hand just before he punched again. "STOP!"

"Christian is a bad guy, Thalia. He will ruin her," he admitted. "I don’t want that for Sophie. He will break her... she has a fragile mind."

His words cut through me. It was like he was talking to me as much as he was talking about Sophie. He recognized it too and took a step back. "I will talk to her."

"We don't get to choose who we fall in love with," I said. "The heart wants what it wants."

He turned around, hiding his face from me as if he was afraid I'd see that he, too, was a broken piece needing love.

"Tristan, I know you're trying to protect her, but she needs this happiness to pull her out of her darkness," I said, placing a palm on his shoulder. He immediately turned around, looking at me.

His face loomed over mine like a shadow, but his eyes were different—perhaps I was just finding the shadow in every person I met.

"You have no idea," he said, pushing me away and walking fast in front of me.

"Tristan," I shouted after him. "Tristan, I'm sorry," I said, trying to catch up, but he was faster than me.

He waved me off just before entering his house, and I did the same, entering my own home. My mind was racing. I had just told Sophie's secret, and I couldn't stop thinking about how she would hate me when she found out.

I needed a cold shower to cool off all my swirling emotions, and I needed a break from the feelings dancing around me. Just as I stepped out of the shower, I heard Sophie shouting up to my window.

"Thalia, are you awake?" she called, her voice so loud I could see the veins in her neck as I moved to the window, wrapped in a towel.

"Yeah, it’s seven in the afternoon," I shouted back. " Only chickens go to sleep before eight."

She laughed. "Are you getting ready?"

"For what?" I asked, confused.

"The carnival, duh! Don’t tell me you forgot," she said. "Do you have a mask?"

"I did forget," I confessed. "And I have nothing to wear."

"Then come to my place. I’ll lend you something," she said.

"Okay," I shouted back. "I’ll be at your place in five."

She nodded and walked away. I quickly pulled on a white dress and slipped into my slippers; the towel still wrapped around my head as I walked out. Grandma was in the kitchen, preparing a lemon tart. I dipped my finger into the bowl, scooping up some lemon cream just like I did when I was a child. I licked it, savoring the taste. "This is amazing."

"I knew you would love it," she said, smiling. "I overheard that you’re going to the carnival."

"Sophie is taking me," I said, sitting down. "Do we have a mask?"

She smiled, leaving the bowl of cream as she walked towards her bedroom. From the wall, she took down a white porcelain mask. It was old-fashioned, Italian-style , with red cheeks and red lipstick, decorated with gold and a red crown. She brought it to me, holding it close to her face.

"It belonged to your mother," she said, smiling as she took it off. "She wore it when she turned sixteen."

"It’s so beautiful," I said, taking the mask. "It’s perfect." I smiled, feeling a connection to my mother through this piece of history.

"Enjoy, dear," she said, walking back to the kitchen and mixing the cream.

I took the mask and hurried down the stairs to Sophie’s house, calling out a quick "Thank you" to Grandma as I left.