Accidentally Yours Chapter 2 Part 4
CHAPTER 2 · PART FOUR
Accidentally Yours
“So tell me, are you still addicted to fried tarantulas?” Angelo asked, his tone teasing as we leaned against the balcony railing.
The scent of cigarette smoke curled around us, mingling with the crisp night air. He took a slow drag, closing his eyes like the nicotine was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted, and then exhaled smoothly.
At that moment, I was transported back to when I was sixteen, sneaking glances at him at parties and wishing I could look away but failing miserably.
He looked just as hot now—maybe even more so—with his sharp jawline illuminated by the soft glow of the balcony light.
“I’m still waiting for a reply, Dina.”
His dark eyebrows arched as he held out the cigarette to me. I took it, brought it to my lips, and inhaled. The smoke filled my lungs, sharp but oddly comforting, and I let it out in a slow exhale, just like he had.
“I grew out of that long ago,” I finally replied.
“Patrick Lawrence?”
The name hit like a blow to the chest. That addiction I hadn’t grown out of. I still liked him and hated that Angelo could read it on my face.
I took another drag, buying time before nodding.
“Dude’s a jerk, though. He was messing around with a married woman.”
Okay, defense mode activated.
“He already explained himself. Tessa McAdams set him up. She’s known for her devious acts, so I wouldn’t be surprised—”
“And Patrick Lawrence is known to be a womanizer,” Angelo cut in, his voice dry. “So I wouldn’t be surprised if what she said was true. They say there’s no smoke without fire.”
“Whatever,” I muttered, rolling my eyes as the conversation shifted into another one of our signature banters.
That’s how it always went when we shared a smoke. We’d argue about the stupidest things, laughing and teasing until the cigarette burned to the filter.
I’d worried we’d lost that spark after three years apart, but here we were again, hidden away on a balcony like teenagers avoiding their responsibilities.
Papa wouldn’t have agreed with me—he still thought I was a little girl. But Angelo? He’d always have my back.
A made woman was supposed to be chaste, and smoking wasn’t precisely considered chaste. Another man would have flipped out if he caught me doing this.
Not Angelo. He just gave me that intense look, pulled a lighter from his pocket, and sparked a new cigarette.
“Shit, your papa is coming this way,” he said suddenly.
My body tensed, and I whipped my head toward the hallway. It was empty.
“You jerk,” I hissed, slapping his arm.
“Ow, that hurts.”
“That’s because you deceived me.”
“Why?” His smirk deepened. “Don’t tell me your papa still doesn’t know his perfect little pumpkin smokes.”
“God, you’re so annoying. Does your mother, who looks at you like you’re the center of the universe, know how annoying you are?”
“Nope.”
He leaned in, close enough that I could feel his breath on my skin, warm and laced with smoke.
“But that’s because I’m a coward, just like you,” he said softly. “I want my mother to think her son is the nicest person in the universe.”
I swallowed hard as he raised his arms above me, resting them on the wall behind me.
“What are you doing?” My voice came out quieter than I intended.
“What I’ve wanted to do all evening.”
His fingers brushed my shoulder, then tilted my chin up.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
The moment his lips touched mine, everything shifted. The kiss was soft at first, then deepened, his hand moving to the back of my neck.
I tasted the faint bitterness of tobacco mixed with something sweet—something uniquely Angelo.
His other hand cupped my waist, firm but not demanding.
It wasn’t just a kiss; it felt like a promise.
Far better than any kiss I’d had before—better than Liam’s awkward fumbling or Ceballos’s overconfident attempts—this was something else entirely.
Even as I melted into him, questions whispered in my mind. Did enjoying this make me a bad person? Did it make me a liar?
I didn’t have the answers.
So I let myself get lost in the moment, fulfilling a childish fantasy I hadn’t realized still lingered.