Chapter 2 Liam Carter

• ♧•Maya•♧
• *Three Weeks Later*
• After locking myself in the house all day for the last three weeks and crying myself to sleep, I finally remembered I had bought tickets—for Tom and me to spend the vacation in a little house I’d paid for in Tuscany.
• They said Rome is the best place to enjoy the summer sun, so I planned it as an anniversary surprise.
• It was starting to look like the best option for a rebound. I couldn’t do this for the rest of my life.
• Stay on my phone all day waiting for his texts? Yeah, I know I sounded stupid but a part of me wanted to badly believe what I’d seen wasn’t real.
• Crying myself to sleep? Drink? I was a mess.
• A fucking mess. I’d even taken a break from my work. They could cope without me.
• I stared at the plane tickets —they had expired. I’d have to book another one, but it doesn’t matter.
• I needed fresh air, space to rethink my life, and get back on my feet. And I was sure I could do that outside of California.
• And with that resolve, I booked the next flight to Rome.
• ***
• I stared out the window the next day as the plane slowly rose into the air. Everything turned smaller and smaller until I couldn’t tell the difference between humans and buildings.
• I sighed, sank into my seat, closed my eyes, and just let myself think. The memories, the happy moments, the times when I felt loved. Was it all true?
• Had he been faking it all along? Or maybe he hadn’t—until he met Jenny and fell out of love with me. That would explain the crankiness and the dry looks he casts my way occasionally.
• He chose her over me, even though we’d been together all through college.
• We should’ve been planning our wedding, but he said he didn’t want to rush it.
• He plans on proposing to her after two years. Great. Really.
• I grabbed my headphones, set the music volume to the highest, and let it consume me. I had no idea when I fell asleep.
• But when I woke up, the flight attendant was announcing our landing. I followed the instructions, buckled my seatbelt, and straightened my seat.
• I glanced out the window again as the plane descended. The window seat has always fascinated me.
• Seeing the world from the top view—nothing beats that.
• I grabbed my luggage at the terminal and made my way out of the airport. My hoodie was pulled over my head, and my sweatshirt swallowed me up.
• I reeked of heartbreak. Anyone could take one glance at me and know I wasn’t okay.
• But did I come here to make friends? No. I just needed alone time—something I haven’t gotten since I went missing at camp during high school.
• Those... those were the best hours of my life.
• I tapped on Google Maps. Tuscany was still a few kilometers away.
• I sighed and waved down a cab. One stopped in front of me.
• “I need to get to this place,” I said, pointing at my phone for the driver, an older man.
• He narrowed his eyes at the screen, then nodded and muttered something in Italian.
• I shook my head.
• “Sorry, I didn’t understand that,” I said, and he eyed me wearily.
• “Tuscany Stone Hill. Costa cinquanta dollari,” he repeated, and I pressed my lips together.
• Fifty dollars? That was an outrageous amount.
• “Fifty dollars is way too much, sir. I just need to get there. I’m not going on a tour,” I said, taking a step back.
• I wasn’t going to pay fifty dollars for a ride just five kilometers away. That was extortion... or so I think.
• The man huffed, shook his head, ranted something in Italian, and drove off, leaving a trail of dust behind.
• I scrunched my nose and stepped back again, dragging my luggage with me.
• Another cab pulled over. It was a younger man this time. I eyed him.
• “You want a ride?” he asked, and a sigh of relief escaped me. An English-speaking Italian was a godsend.
• I pointed at my phone.
• “I need to get here, please,” I mumbled, and he stared at the screen for a second before nodding.
• “Stone Hill? That’ll cost you twenty-five bucks,” he said, and another sigh escaped me as I grabbed my luggage.
• At least, this one didn’t feel as shady as the first guy.
• The man got out and helped me put my bag in the trunk. I got in the car, and he started driving almost immediately.
• This was my first time in Rome, and just as the books described—it was goddamn beautiful. The sun... I was sure my skin would get some tan before I returned.
• “This is your first time here?” the driver asked. I glanced at him before nodding.
• “Yeah. It’s my first time,” I muttered, and he chuckled.
• “There are a lot of tourists in Tuscany. I think you’ll enjoy your stay,” he said, flashing me a small smile through the rearview mirror, which I returned.
• At least someone was positive I’d have a good time.
• “Thank you,” I muttered, turning back to the window. Most people had on shades and hats, maybe to shield themselves from the sun.
• A reminder that I’d brought none. Just Maya being Maya.
• The driver turned on some music, which was nice. It was getting kinda awkward in the car.
• I bobbed my head to the beat and soaked in the tunes, even though I didn’t understand Italian—it was purely Italian music.
• The drive to the vacation home came to an end shortly after, and I stepped out of the car, glancing at my phone.
• My map indicated the house was close by. The caretaker had promised to drop the key under the mat.
• Said it would be safe. I trusted him. A reliable friend had referred him, and while I paid $700 for it for two months, I hoped it would be worth it.
• Well, technically, I had one month left.
• The driver helped retrieve my bag from the trunk, and I paid him, happily giving him a tip before dragging my luggage up the stony hill.
• The house came into sight—seated prettily at the top of the hill, surrounded by water since the beach was just a walk away.
• It already looked cozy, just like in the pictures. I couldn’t wait to settle in.
• I got to the front porch and looked around.
• There was a small shaded area at the side, where I could sit and sip coffee while watching people at the beach.
• Cool scene. Really.
• My eyes caught the mat in front of the door, and I walked toward it. The keys should be under there.
• I bent down to grab them—when the door opened and a pair of legs stopped in front of me.
• I frowned, took a step back, almost tripping over myself.
• Someone broke in already? I knew it wouldn’t be—
• The rest of my thoughts died an instant death as my eyes met a pair of green ones.
• Quite familiar ones, actually.
• Tall, lean, ripped—because he was fucking shirtless—and standing there was Liam Carter.
• My high school bully. How the fuck was he here?