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The Right Kind Of Wrong Girl. A. C. Meyer
Читать онлайн.Название The Right Kind Of Wrong Girl
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9788835425243
Автор произведения A. C. Meyer
Жанр Современные любовные романы
Издательство Tektime S.r.l.s.
“And I think you like it when I put my foul mouth to work in bed.”
“I think we need to put that to a test.”
“Thankfully, we have all night long.” She laughs, and then she holds my face so she could look me in the eyes. “We’re okay, aren’t we?”
“Exactly what I was going to say.” I smile reassuringly. “On my behalf, we are. What about you?”
“On mine, too. If I knew it was going be this way, I’d have seduced you a long time ago.” Malu makes a funny face and we both laugh. “Friends?”
“Forever” I assure her, stealing a kiss that leads us to a second turn, which promises to be even more intense.
Chapter seven
“You become responsible, forever, for that you have tamed.”
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Malu
I arrive at my building with my hands full of bags. I headed over downtown to buy art supplies and, as usual, there are always so many options that simply I can’t restrain myself. I always buy more then I need. I’m walking through the lounge when I’m suddenly ran over by a small black-haired rocket with blue eyes, which knocks me down to the ground.
“Oh, my God! I’m sorry!” says a woman who’s coming in right behind me, while she helps me take all the scattered things. “Bruninho, come here and help”, she says to the little boy, who’s flushed and a bit scared.
“It’s okay… he has a lot of energy, right?” I reply, not really knowing what to say. I’ve never really had any contact with kids, and I always feel awkward around them. The woman smiles at me.
“Too much, sometimes”, she replies, offering me her hand. “Clara. I’m the new tenant on 601. And this little pepper is Bruninho.”
“Hi, auntie,” the little boy says, smacking me on the cheek, which takes me completely by surprise.
“I’m Malu, we’re next-door neighbors!” Clara’s smile grows even larger and, besides the fact that I’ve just been ran over by her little savage, I like her immediately.
“Are you living here with your husband? Do you have other children?” I ask her when we’re back on our feet, heading towards the elevator. Clara looks down with sadness clouding her eyes.
“No, that’s just the two of us. I lost my husband last year.” I look at her frightened. Clara seems so young to be a widow. And with such a young child. Once again, this idea that life is so tough – sometimes, too tough – crosses my mind.
“I’m sorry, Clara.”
“Thank you,” she says. I feel like asking more, but I don’t have the guts to do it. She seems to notice the question in my eyes, though. “Leukemia. It was pretty tough.”
“Oh… such a sad disease.”
“Yeah, it is. He was a fighter, until the end.” She gives me a sad smile. I feel a shiver down my spine, and I’m taken over by a sense of melancholy. I don’t know if I’d have the strength to go through something like this… it looks like a lost battle and, at the end, the people we love are the ones left with all the pain, given that the sentence is about to be executed. I hold her hand tight, trying to show some sort of support, once I’m out of words. “But we were happy until the end. He left me this wonderful gift that is our son.”
“I’m sorry for all you’ve been through,” I finally manage to speak while we step down the elevator at our floor. “It’s nice to meet you both.”
“Our pleasure. Listen, would you like to have some pizza with us later?” she asks me before getting inside her apartment. “We don’t know anyone else here and it would be nice to make some friends.”
“Sure! Knock on my door when it’s time. I’ll take something to drink.” We hit it off immediately. She was so young, but with such melancholy eyes.
****
By six-thirty, the doorbell rings. I’m wearing frayed hem denim shorts and black T-shirt. My hair is a mess and I have paint all over my body. I’m working on this new technique and got excited about all those supplies I’ve bought.
I leave my brush on the table and move to the living room still cleaning my hands. When I open the door, there is my new favorite man in the whole world.
“Have you forgot how to paint, sailor?” Rafa asks me. He walks by me, leaving a peck on the top of my head. It’s amazing how tall he is in relation to me.
“Hi, cocky. How are you?” I close the door and follow him to my atelier. “Where’s you key?”
“Yeah,” he says, untying the knot of his tie and taking his jacket off. “Yours was turned sideways inside the lock, so I couldn’t open it. I’m going out later, but, since we hadn’t seen each other this week, I thought about stopping by to check on you.”
“What’s up for today?”
“Hmm…” He’s hesitating, so I conclude he’s going out with someone.
“You can say it, Rafa. I told you already that it doesn’t bother me the fact you’re seeing other women. There’s no such thing between us.”
He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair.
“I know… I’m seeing Taninha,” he says, bringing the picture of that red-haired bitch to my mind. She goes out with anyone who pays for her drinks. I remain silent, but I can feel his eyes on me. “What?”
“What what?” I ask, feeling confused.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“And what do you want me to say? That you deserve better than that whore from Tito’s bar? You already know that.” I frown and he laughs.
“That’s why you’re my best friend. You always talk me up.” The sound of his hoarse laugh raises all the hair from my neck. “And what about you? Are going out?
“I’m having pizza with my next-door neighbor. Maybe later, I’m going out for a drink.”
“Hmm… by yourself?”
“Are you keeping track of me now?” He seems embarrassed all of a sudden.
“No, Malu. I’m just… making conversation.” The doorbell rings again and he opens it. A couple of seconds later, rocket-boy enters my atelier and I manage to hold him before he has time to throw anything on the floor.
“Excuse me, Malu. Your… oh, that’s beautiful!” Clara is interrupted by the sight of my unfinished painting.
“It’s not ready yet.”
“But it’s wonderful! You’re very talented,” she says making me flush. “Sorry to break in, but your boyfriend said it’s okay.”
“Boyfriend?” I frown upon her comment. “Who? Rafa?” She looks at me confused. “We’re just friends.”
“Oh, sorry… well, he said I could come inside. I was supposed to come and call you for that pizza, but if you’re busy…”
“No, Clara. Rafa is family. Can I take a quick shower?”
“Sure, it’s still baking. If he wants to join us…” At this moment, Rafa come inside the atelier holding a beer.
“Are you up for a pizza, Rafa?”
“Sure! Can I take my beer?”