✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩ 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.
..⃗. ☁️ 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦.
"Why are you always looking down? My face is right up here."...
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C A T A L I N A
While baking cookies at Paolo's house, I accidentally burned my finger on the hot pan. It hurt like a freaking butt.
Lorenzo was being a big baby and ended up having a fight with Donna after what happened at their dinner.
We were back at his penthouse and no longer staying at the cabin.
I also think I was developing a cold but I was keeping myself doped up on honey tea so that I wouldn't get sick. I didn't need to be a burden on anyone and I didn't want anyone to take care of me.
My heart picked up in my chest when I heard the front door open. It was most likely one of the boys but I couldn't be too cautious so I picked up a knife.
Like heck I was going to act like those dumb people in movies and actually go towards the suspicious sound.
Immediately the sound of a small groan concerned me. I set the knife on the kitchen counter and peeked my head out to the hallway- oh no.
"Enzo? Oh my God-" I rushed over to a slouched over Lorenzo and put his arm over my shoulder so that I could support him.
"I'm fine." He's lying, he wasn't fine. There was a patch of red staining his white shirt that smelled of the finest men's cologne even though it was covered in blood. His knuckles were bruised and swollen, resembling Rocco's butthole-looking eye. And the way he was walking reminded me of the times when I would have a hard time using my legs to move after receiving a punishment.
"Did you get beat up? I thought you were strong." Hopefully this would rile up his cocky man ego so that he wasn't thinking too much about the pain he was clearly in.
"The fuck? I don't get beat up." Haha sucker, he fell for it.
Sitting Lorenzo down on a chair, I was about to unbutton his shirt until I realized what I was doing. "Can you uh- can you take that off."
"I said i'm fine. Leave." Lorenzo was just not used to getting taken care of, that's why he was pushing me away. But i'll be damned if he doesn't at least let me try and help him, it's what friends do for each other.
I pushed on his chest to make him sit back in the chair and raised an eyebrow at him. "Take it off, please."
With an annoyed huff—something he always does around me—he used his bloody knuckles to unbutton the stained shirt off.
I felt myself looking at his body in awe. He was beautiful, absolutely stunning. It was shocking how fit and defined every inch of his body was, as if he spent every second of the day working out. He wasn't too bulky either. And if he was, there would be nothing wrong with that.
