The Homeless Boy

sixteen.

He watched her cook in fascination.

She seemed so focused and everything was done with the upmost preciseness. It might've been the fact that she was making one of his favorite Italian appetizers, but she looked beautiful as ever.

"Okay. I present to you: bruschetta, " she said while placing the plate in front of him. There were ten grilled bread with garlic, salt, olive oil, tomatoes, and cheese. His eyes gleamed with joy.

As soon as he tried one, he let out a sigh. "Perfection, Elle. Absolute perfection."

"You mean perfezione."

"Sì, principessa, " he grinned at her and her eyebrows rose.

  "You know Italian?" she asked, eating along with him.

  "From my mother, " he whispered sadly, but he tried his best to smile. The past was the past. He learned that the hard way.

  She bit her lip, hesitating. "Miles...will you ever tell me about her?"

  "I–I can't talk about what happened. Not just yet, " he answered; he noticed how disappointed she became. "But, I can tell you the good things about her."

  "Sure, " she smiled brightly and nodded.

  "Okay, um, she spoke Italian because of her father. My grandfather. He was originally from Italy. This dish, actually, was one of her favorites too."

  She listened intently as he told her everything he loved about his mother. The way she acted, the way she worked, and the way she took care of him until she was gone.

  His eyes shined and he laughed as he remembered his mother. Everything about him in that moment showed her how much he loved his mother.

  "She sounds amazing, Miles, " she murmured once he was finished. A faint smile remained on his lips.

  "She was, " he nodded.

  They ate the rest of the bruschettas in a comfortable silence in her kitchen. He turned to look at her clearly.

  His eyes bored into hers and he reached out to hold her hands. "My mother would've loved you, Elle."

  It was such a heartwarming compliment coming from him.

  "I think I would've loved her too, " she responded, squeezing his hands.

  As he sat in her kitchen, holding the hands of the girl he had intense feelings for, he couldn't help but think of his mother.

  His mother would always be the woman he loved the most in his life. But perhaps...there was room for another.
 

  A/N: sorry for the short chapter! But then again, this is a short story.

  Anyway, next chapter we'll be focusing more on Estelle. Thanks for reading!