years,” I said with much regret after saying the last statement.
“Wow…two years? Why?” she asked. I could feel her eyes staring at me.
“I went to school out there,” I said emphatically, even though my statement was far from the truth. I had to live in Italy for two years to lay low after murdering five people. In order to become a “made man” and move up the ranks, I had to commit murder. I took out five members of the Costanzo family to ensure that there was no lineage left.
“So, that explains your subtle accent. I mean, you do have a New York Italian twang—but it sounds different,” she said, with laughter in her voice.
“I suppose you’re right. My mother taught us Italian first, and we learned English in school. While in Italy, I had to speak Italian the whole time. Why do you dislike the Italian language?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“Honestly, it is not a practical language that I can use, especially in the field of medicine. It’s not that I don’t like the Italian language—I’d just rather learn a language that is in high demand…like Spanish or Haitian Creole.”
“I…should be reason enough for you to want to learn Italian if we are going to be together,” I said without even thinking. It is as if the statement poured out from my heart.
She laughed softly, before asking if I was serious. I pulled up in the front of her dorm, parked, and turned the car off. Shifting my body sideways to face her, I saw a flicker in her questioning eyes.
Is she really afraid of me?
“I am serious. I want you to give us a chance,” I said, as I reached out and held her trembling hand.
“You do know that I am nineteen years old, right?”
“You do know that I am twenty-six, right?” I asked sarcastically.
“I don’t want to state the obvious, but I am an African American woman, and there is a seven-year age difference. We don’t run in the same circles, and we come from two different backgrounds. I should have never crossed that line of being intimate with you. A relationship will be an unnecessary complication,” she said, as she pulled her hand away from my hand and unbuckled her seat belt.
Blowing out a harsh breath, I began massaging my temple with my index and middle finger. As much as I hate to admit this…she’s right.
“This was a big mistake. I have to go,” she said, as she placed her hand on the door handle.
“Wait.”
“What is it now?” she asked.
“Just give us a chance. I’ll do anything to convince you to take a chance with me. You’re different. I knew that the moment I laid eyes on you. It was not that you were the only African American woman in the VIP section,” I began. “You gave off this unusual aura that commanded my attention,” I confessed. “I knew that I had to have you.”
“And you did,” she mumbled under her breath.
“If sex was all that I wanted from you—I could get that anytime from you,” I said casually out loud and immediately regretted those words. Whipping her head up at me, she gave me a piercing look of disgust. She pulled the handle and jumped out of the car. Quickly exiting the car, I walked around the car and caught her by her fingertips and pulled her frame towards my body. Her breathing changed immediately after I drew her to me.
“I’m truly sorry. What I said came out wrong. I have never had a woman who affected me the way that you do. Please give us a chance, and I will show you that there is more to us than just sex. I know that you can feel it.” Leaning forward, I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her any longer. Capturing her lips with my greedy mouth, I kissed her deeply and reveled in the subtle moans that escaped her lips.
Breaking away slightly from my body, she looked up at me as if searching for any reason to remain apprehensive about us pursuing a relationship. “If we are going to move forward, I want you to actually court me. Show me that there is more to us than just sex. I
“Wow…two years? Why?” she asked. I could feel her eyes staring at me.
“I went to school out there,” I said emphatically, even though my statement was far from the truth. I had to live in Italy for two years to lay low after murdering five people. In order to become a “made man” and move up the ranks, I had to commit murder. I took out five members of the Costanzo family to ensure that there was no lineage left.
“So, that explains your subtle accent. I mean, you do have a New York Italian twang—but it sounds different,” she said, with laughter in her voice.
“I suppose you’re right. My mother taught us Italian first, and we learned English in school. While in Italy, I had to speak Italian the whole time. Why do you dislike the Italian language?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“Honestly, it is not a practical language that I can use, especially in the field of medicine. It’s not that I don’t like the Italian language—I’d just rather learn a language that is in high demand…like Spanish or Haitian Creole.”
“I…should be reason enough for you to want to learn Italian if we are going to be together,” I said without even thinking. It is as if the statement poured out from my heart.
She laughed softly, before asking if I was serious. I pulled up in the front of her dorm, parked, and turned the car off. Shifting my body sideways to face her, I saw a flicker in her questioning eyes.
Is she really afraid of me?
“I am serious. I want you to give us a chance,” I said, as I reached out and held her trembling hand.
“You do know that I am nineteen years old, right?”
“You do know that I am twenty-six, right?” I asked sarcastically.
“I don’t want to state the obvious, but I am an African American woman, and there is a seven-year age difference. We don’t run in the same circles, and we come from two different backgrounds. I should have never crossed that line of being intimate with you. A relationship will be an unnecessary complication,” she said, as she pulled her hand away from my hand and unbuckled her seat belt.
Blowing out a harsh breath, I began massaging my temple with my index and middle finger. As much as I hate to admit this…she’s right.
“This was a big mistake. I have to go,” she said, as she placed her hand on the door handle.
“Wait.”
“What is it now?” she asked.
“Just give us a chance. I’ll do anything to convince you to take a chance with me. You’re different. I knew that the moment I laid eyes on you. It was not that you were the only African American woman in the VIP section,” I began. “You gave off this unusual aura that commanded my attention,” I confessed. “I knew that I had to have you.”
“And you did,” she mumbled under her breath.
“If sex was all that I wanted from you—I could get that anytime from you,” I said casually out loud and immediately regretted those words. Whipping her head up at me, she gave me a piercing look of disgust. She pulled the handle and jumped out of the car. Quickly exiting the car, I walked around the car and caught her by her fingertips and pulled her frame towards my body. Her breathing changed immediately after I drew her to me.
“I’m truly sorry. What I said came out wrong. I have never had a woman who affected me the way that you do. Please give us a chance, and I will show you that there is more to us than just sex. I know that you can feel it.” Leaning forward, I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her any longer. Capturing her lips with my greedy mouth, I kissed her deeply and reveled in the subtle moans that escaped her lips.
Breaking away slightly from my body, she looked up at me as if searching for any reason to remain apprehensive about us pursuing a relationship. “If we are going to move forward, I want you to actually court me. Show me that there is more to us than just sex. I
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