Be With Me by Jessica Cunsolo

Author:Jessica Cunsolo
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wattpad WEBTOON Book Group

Ten

Dario was up watching television when we got in late last night. He looked at his watch and shook his head in disapproval when he heard Jason’s car take off out of the driveway before turning back to the game. I didn’t say anything as Gia and I trudged up the stairs, but I was pissed off, nonetheless.

In the morning, it’s not him at the stove flipping pancakes, it’s Zia Stella.

“Good morning,” she greets as I open the large stainless-steel fridge and pour myself a glass of juice. “Your dad told me you were out late last night with a boy?” It’s a question, but it’s not accusatory like I’m sure Dario intended it to be. She sounds curious, or like she wants to gossip about boys . . . with me.

“It was, like, 1:00 a.m.,” I admit, since there’s no point in lying about the time since Dario already knew. “But I wasn’t out with a boy, he was just the one who drove us home.”

“Are you sure?” she prods with a coy smile like we’re sharing a secret. “Gia mentioned something about you having a boyfriend.”

I freeze as I pull out the island stool, then sit as smoothly as I can. “Gia says any guy I talk to is my boyfriend.”

“Okay,” she says, not fully convinced. She places two pancakes from the griddle onto a plate and slides it in front of me. “But if you want to talk about the boyfriend who’s not a boyfriend, I’m all ears.”

I stare at her, then the pancakes, then her again. What’s going on here? Is this some kind of ploy? Is she trying to get me to admit to something? Or is she trying to butter me up before breaking some kind of bad news? No adult has ever been this nice to me without wanting something or having an ulterior motive.

“Right. Okay.” I hesitate, then pick up the fork she laid out for me and douse the pancakes in syrup. They’re good pancakes, and she smiles at me as I scarf them down.

I don’t even know how long it’s been since someone else has cooked for me, especially not pancakes from scratch.

“What are your plans for the day?” she asks, pouring more batter onto the griddle.

“I have a phone call with Anusha in . . .” I pull out my phone and set it on the counter to check the time. She frowns at it, and I do too when I remember it’s broken, and I can’t see the time. I stuff it back into my pocket and glance at the clock on the stove behind her. “Ten minutes,” I finish.

“Are you finding your sessions helpful?” she asks, and I shrug.

“I guess.” I like Anusha enough, and she’s given me some solid advice and taught me some useful breathing techniques, but I’m sure I’d get more out of our sessions with her if I could be honest with her.

“That’s better than a ‘no’ I suppose.” She laughs to herself as Gia stumbles into the kitchen, her eyes half closed and short hair sticking up in spikes.

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