22 | 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝐴𝑠𝑠

Never in a million years would I imagine saying I woke up on Victor's bare chest wearing his clothes (including underwear), in a hotel room outside of Wyoming while my alarm for birth control went off. I took one of my pills from my purse. It was the only carry on bag I bought, and the things inside were all that I had.

I twisted the cap on the water bottle, guzzled the liquid down before hearing his vibrating groan shake the bed. "Where are you going?" He patted his hand at the empty spot of where I once laid. He peeked his eyes open, studying my disheveled state. "You look mad."

He sat up, revealing his contoured torso and glowing olive complexion, hinting the deep V extending below his gray sweatpants. He drove his hand through his unkempt black mess of hair with his eyes flickering down my body. "What do you want now?" he grumbled, his voice gravelly from a night of rest.

I felt a shiver course through my body, one that really didn't need to be there. "I'm tired."

"I know," he sighed, reaching forward and tugging on my forearm shielded with his hoodie. He yanked me into his bare chest and I relentlessly fell into the movement, colliding into his build, feeling the obvious bulge in his sweatpants.

"Are you kidding me?" I questioned, gesturing to the hard-on.

He stifled a laugh and remarked, "I remember you being kind of reserved. What ever happened to that?"

"I don't know," I beamed, giggling to myself and shifting over so I could lay on my stomach, partially atop his rippled chest. He was naturally warm and I liked his hand caressing the sweatshirt.

I wonder if Sullivan has abs. Are they as good as these? Because I could have a Thanksgiving feast on these--Okay, that got weird.

"Whatcha thinking about?" he asked, drifting his hand closer to brush a few lone strands of hair and tuck them behind the shell of my ear.

I could say the truth, how he looks like a fucking porn star, but I choked back my words.  "Can we make-out?" I impulsively questioned instead, lowering my eyes to his naval. "Practice."

He inhaled sharply, his stomach forbidding a release of tension. "Didn't you want your first kiss to be with Corbett?"

"Fuck!" I slapped my palm to the bed comforters. "Forget it."

"No--no, wait--" Victor panicked with a smile about to fall any second. He held his palms up in front of him nervously, shaking his head with slightly frantic movements. "I take that back. Is it too late to take that back?"

I chuckled, placing my palm on his chest and shoving him onto the heap of pillows. "It's the morning. I don't want my first kiss to taste like chicken ass."

"My breath won't taste like a chicken's ass."

I climbed over his legs with minimal covers draped over and shuffled towards the cream white surface barricading the bathroom. I swung open the bathroom door and popped the hotel provided toothbrush out of its case, placing a strip of the paste on the bristles. I slipped the brush into my mouth when suddenly the door crept open and a shirtless Vicky invaded the space.

"I'm really bummed we can't make-out," he voiced with concern, gliding his hand to my lower back, causing my whole body to respond in a sharp jump at the contact. The warm sensation of his body heat prickled and spread as he leaned over me and plucked out the other provided toothbrush.

"We're like an old married couple already."

"Shut up," I grumbled, spitting out my toothpaste and wiping my sleeve (or rather, his hoodie sleeve) over my mouth. "We are going to your grandmothers now and--"

"Hmm--" He cleaned his face up and tugged me into his chest. My cheeks flushed the darkest of shades. "I think we're forgetting something," he said, using his toothbrush to point at me subjectively.

"No, I changed my mind."

I hadn't.

I concluded sternly, "we're going and that is the end of it."

"Fine... whatever the princess wants," he chorused sweetly, floating through the room and grabbing at a pair of black jeans he'd stuffed in his duffle.

"I'm not a princess!" I confirmed, crossing my arms and approaching him. "I should probably wear my crop top with your sweatpants."

"It's Montana in December," he reminded in an obvious tone, shooting me a worrisome engrossed in his eyes. "You do realize it's gonna be cold, right?"

"Yeah, but..." I gestured to my body. "I look like a hobo."

"Those are my clothes you're talking about," he snapped.

I laughed quietly, rolling my eyes and slipping the hoodie off, revealing nothing but my beige bra holding me in place, uncomfortably I might add.

God, bras can amount to any bit of evil in the world.

I tugged on my crop top, sucking my body in like a suction cup. Victor's eyes were blatantly on me, and I swore that I felt the warm streak of redness paint my complexion hotly.

"Ready?" he asked.

"No, it doesn't matter what I am. Are you ready?" I raised an eyebrow, hopefulness in my eyes as I urged him to speak.

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and sniggered. "No, Rhy. No, I'm not." He revealed a brief display of guilt before forcing down a gray hoodie with a red flannel atop it.

"All those clothes," I began, watching him flip the collar outwards. "And not any extras for poor ol' me?"

"Oh, fuck off," he joked, rolling his eyes and grabbing at his lanyard with a jingle of his keys trailing him. "Come on," he deadpanned with a weak smile.

I knew he was nervous. This was the grandmother on his father's side, the one who he'd never met in person and I could only hope that when this was all over, he would still be friends with me. I'd never want to make him feel uncomfortable, and having this to share with him, might be something I could never want to loose.

When he was driving the length of the highway, the directions of the senior citizen condo displayed on his phone, he leaned back in the seat and took in a sharp inhale. "God, what am I doing?"

"What am I doing?" I emphasized. "I'm in another state and nobody knows it," I told him, overviewing his red checkered flannel and how that complimented his brown irises.

"You like being bad, don't you? Believe me when I say, it's so much more fucking fun."

"You know I fall for the golden boys," I expressed, throwing my head back in the seat at hearing him chuckle and silently ridicule that statement. The music blasted through the radio, circulating my ears. I turned to him, shifting my body to sit upright. "I think..." I raised my tone. "This will be good."

"What?" He lowered the radio and pivoted in his seat. "Rhy, she may know nothing. More than likely she won't know anything about Valentino." He kept steering the car with such determination that I saw the fading ambition flicker in his eyes for a moment until transpiring into a colder glare on the Montana fields we surpassed.

"You really love your brother."

"No shit--"

"No, I mean..." I pursed my lips, hoping for him to feel less agitated. "I never had a sibling and when I was younger I really wanted one. Kayla and Jay always told me they're annoying and--"

"You just gotta love them but you'd never let them know it," he finished. "I just..." He held in his breath. "Forget it, we're almost there anyway."

"Okay," I murmured, slouching into the passenger side as he forged harder on the gas and proceeded to the senior living center. When we arrived, Victor approached his jeep towards the closed black gate and the gatekeeper along the side of it.

"May I help you?" the friendly man called out to us.

"Yes," Victor voiced, rolling his window down completely. "I'm here to see Giada Marchesi. I'm her grandson."

"Does she know you're here?" he asked, a narrower look on his wrinkling face. I couldn't help but lean towards the middle consul in preparation to see where the conversation was going, but after a few more simplistic exchanges about ringing him in to Giada, we were allowed into the complex.

There was one main house, a few attachments beside it with a garden or two. However, identical white, one story houses extended throughout the property in clean rows, each marked with a number, and unique decorations suited to the caretaker.

Victor drew the vehicle closer, gazing at the crinkled paper in his hands. It was folded in-between his palm and the wheel. I instinctually placed my hand on his thigh and at the abrupt contact, he seemed a bit startled, but calmed himself and smiled down at my steady palm.

I pointed to a house, similar to the rest, though there were lights intricately decorated on the bushes. I forced a smile as he parked along the outskirts. "What do you think she's like?"

"If she's anything like my dad then she's a piece of shit, but there's still hope," he teased, popping open the door and stepping out into the cool, brisk air. I rubbed my hands against my exposed arms in my crop top while I saw the lopsided grin embroidered onto Victor's mouth as he wordlessly said 'I told you so.'

When we approached the teal blue door, I saw the regret come treading into him. He raised his fist, lowering it, then rose it again and consecutively knocked four times until burying his knuckles into the pockets of his flannel.

There was a long pause of silence that resumed, nothing but the crisp air to swim along the exterior of the house before it opened, and the petite Italian woman, wearing her blue jeans and sunshine yellow long sleeve shirt appeared in the entryway, long locks of gray hair poured from her head and her beautiful Italian complexion was still creased with youth.

She hesitated at first. "Do I--"

"Victor Vislocky," he started confidently, pursing his lips and swallowing down his troubles. "I'm your grandson."

♡♡♡

"I would've gotten you little goody bags with a whole bunch of candies in it and we'd stay up eating crackers and cheese--" She rambled, her head buried in the cups of her hands as we were all seated at the spherical table with tea and cookies situated before us.

He chuckled lightly, genuinely smiling. "I wish I knew you too."

I sheepishly took a bite of my cookie. I felt like I was invading their privacy and asked numerous times if they'd like to be alone, but that's when I knew where Victor got most of his stubbornness.

"Do you umm..." Victor's voice trailed as he looked to me quickly for assurance. "Do you know where Federico is?" he asked.

"Last I heard, incarcerated." She paused and flickered her eyes towards the rug. "I'm sorry."

"No," he smoothed over. "It's fine. I mean, what else is new?" Whilst attempting to lighten the mood with his humor, he sniffled in and in the matter of seconds, became straight faced once more.

Giada looked at her hands. "Why are you here, Vic?" She laughed a bit. "I mean, I would be okay if it was just wanting to hang with me for a few." Though she was teasing, she was impatiently waiting for the truth.

Victor was avoiding her eyes solemnly, digging his fingers into the cups of his palm. "My brother and I got separated in the system a few years back."

"And you're wanting me to help you find him," she finished softly. "Look, I didn't even know you two existed till now. I wouldn't have a clue where your brother, Valentino, is."

He nodded timidly in conclusion, tilting his chin away.

"But that doesn't mean I can't help," she finished, causing his breathing to slow. "My daughter--"

"You have a daughter?" he asked, on the edge of his seat.

"Yes, you're aunt. She might be able to help you," Giada continued with a few head nods, but despite her helpful input, Victor turned towards me with a cheeky grin.

"I have an aunt," he said. "That's pretty cool."

"It is," I agreed, but my voice was cut off by Giada who waved her hand and laughed.

"Are you kidding? I have five beautiful children. You have three aunts and one uncle, not to mention your cousins."

When I gazed over to Victor, I swore there were tears in his eyes, but the biggest smile imaginable was attached. He was invested into the fine printed lines of his story, the same sentences he'd never gotten to read in chapter one and I couldn't be happier for him.

"Your Aunt Esta might know how to help," Giada mentioned, "she's good with the technology."

"That's great," Victor beamed. "Where does she live? Rhy and I are staying in Montana for a lil' longer--"

"Oh..." Her voice downcasted. "No." She pursed her lips and stood from the seat, shuffling to a picture frame perched on the TV stand and walking back, prodding a finger to the Golden Gate Bridge. "She lives in San Francisco."

♡♡♡

My arms were increasingly becoming sore, the muscles in my biceps clenching as I continuously rolled my shoulders in the circular movement. "Are you going to help me or am I just gonna be doing all the work here?"

"We're wasting time," he mumbled, his arms crossed over his chest when I looked back at him. His eyes were narrowed on his shoes as the lifejacket securely latched across his hoodie. "My fourteen year old brother is out there... somewhere."

"Well, we aren't going to find him in Lake McDonald while kayaking," I quipped. "It was your idea."

"No, I'm pretty sure it was yours," he muttered.

"It's a pretty view at least," I optimistically stated, throwing my hand out to the mountains on either side of us. The crystal blue skies hung above and in-between the peaks of two mountains dipped in white frost. Our yellow kayak rocked unsteadily in the center of the imaginably chilly waters. The view was breathtaking, but I could understand Victor's displeasure, from not only the lack of information, but the necessary life jacket.

Mine was suffocating me, but with each hard paddle further, I breathed a little stronger. "Vicky, I want to help you--" I sputtered between my lips in a twist of an exhale.

"But instead we're kayaking for no reason in the middle of God knows where in Montana," he scowled.

"Just paddle for Christ sakes!" I shouted, catching a few hiker's attention on a nearby mountain edge. I pivoted in my seat at the nose of the kayak to see Victor stubbornly pick up the paddle from his feet and begin to row. The sudden airier feeling smacked against the kayak as we floated along the waters more freely.

I refuted under my breath, "that wasn't so hard now, was it?"

"Watch it or I'll throw you in and you'll get hyperthermia," he threatened lowly, continuing to row us along the train of the weak current. I rested my limbs, the straining feeling in my forearms definitely coming back to haunt me in the future.

"You know," I started, changing the subject. "I need more help with Liv."

"Yes, I'm aware," he grumbled as a child would and declared, "simple as this, ignore him."

"Are you kidding me?" I gaped back at him, spinning in my seat to look at him straightforwardly, but all it did was unsteadily tilt the kayak on an angle as we struggled to maintain its balance.

"Like the kayak!" he exclaimed, proud of himself. "Your relationship with Sullivan needs to find some sort of stabilization. If he tips the kayak, you tip it right back in the other direction like a game of tug-a-rope."

"English?" I suggested lightheartedly, twisting to face the painting-like scenery before me, the perfect sight in my view.

"I'm saying," he started again in exaggeration. "If he wants to play with your best friend, you say checkmate. He wants to play volleyball, you give him fucking war. You're in the game, but now you gotta make your move."

He continued, "be bold, be fucking bold and act like you're a badass bitch who could give a crap about him. He obviously wants girls who doesn't want him, at least that was the case with Kayla. He likes a challenge."

I meekly asked, "is that why I thought Liv liked Kayla? Because Kayla never liked him... he kinda sounds like a douche."

"It's a dicky guy thing some of us do," he explained. "It's the hunt. The whole, trying to get a girl who doesn't like us sort of thing and I mean it when I say the second you don't show him the attention he doesn't deserve, you'll fucking be able to grab him by the horns when he leasts expects it," Victor jested, nodding his head in approval.

"Example?" I pressed, gazing over my shoulder as I picked up the paddle and began stirring the water, watching as it dipped into the lake before resurfacing with a soft trickling noise and splash.

"You can talk to him during this fucking organization you got me going to. I swear, sometimes I want to murder you--"

"If you dare move this kayak," I warned, but he only sniggered in reply. "Besides, I can't just start a conversation with him without getting flustered or creating some sort of lie that will cost me a five hundred dollar shirt, a fake boyfriend, or a living animal."

"Point made," he noted casually. "How about this? We play it off like we're friends with benefits. I've never had that before--"

"What are you talking about?" I inquired, staring out into the greenery and uprising trails. "Some girl said that you and her were friends with benefits, I thought--"

"You thought wrong," he finished. "She must've been lying because I'm more of the in-n-out kind of guy."

"I'm assuming you're not talking about the In-N-Out restaurant," I joked, seeing his smirk in the corner of my eye. "But what's the point of that? I mean, believe me, I would too if I didn't have a crush." I paused to ask, "how do you not catch feelings?"

He repressed a trembling chuckle up his throat. "Believe me, it can happen."

I shrugged my shoulders and continued to drive the kayak forward. "Vicky, even if I do play hard to get, what would happen if I start dating him?"

"What do you mean?" he urged on.

"Like... between us."

Victor was silent for a moment and I was afraid that I'd said the wrong thing, which would be the worst being that we were stuck in the middle of Lake McDonald with nothing but two paddles and below freezing temperature waters below us.

Victor cleared his throat hoarsely then announced, "I better attend the wedding."

I looked back at him and in unison, he returned the gaze. "That's the least of your problems, Vicky."

"Oh, really?" he exaggerated sarcastically. "Why's that?"

I straightened my posture and assured him, "I already wrote out your invitation and you're expected to be the ring bear but instead of walking up the aisle, you're gonna fly down from the ceiling Mission Impossible style."

"Sounds good to me, Rhy. As long as I get to attend the honeymoon too, preferably without Corbett--"

"In your dreams," I shot back in return. My dimples hurting from the lopsided grin that simply couldn't be removed that easily.

"Rude of you to assume I haven't already dreamed of that," he mentioned, laughing demonically behind me. Without another word, I poked out my middle finger from my clenched fist, but he only questioned, "I would, but do you think this kayak is stable enough? I tend to go a little... rough."

Before I could respond to the sexual innuendo, he stomped his foot on the yellow plastic to check the security of the capsule, but it only caused me to shriek in protest. I flew unsteadily left to right. When I steadied myself after waving my hands for a proper grasp on air to shoot him yet another, dangerous crossed look in my eyes, I received the all-to-familiar classic Victor smirk.

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