Enraptured

SOFIA

Life has a weird way of sorting itself out.

I’m cool with change and all, in fact, I quite enjoy it most times. But moving into a victorian house from the thirties was not on my bingo card.

“At least it isn’t haunted.” Priya, my best friend, offers with a smile.

Glancing around the half-unpacked area, I can come to the agreement that it doesn’t appear to house any ghosts. That I know of, at least.

I continue pulling stacks of plateware out of a box and place them strategically in cabinets. “I think ghosts will be the least of my worries.” I blow a few strands of hair out of my face. “I’m more worried about termites or faulty wiring that could lead to a house fire.”

Okay, maybe I’m being a little dramatic.

This is the very first home I’ve ever owned. Shit, this is the first time I’ll be on my own in general. It’s safe to say that I’m a little stressed out about it all. What if I forget to turn the stove off and die a tragic death from carbon monoxide poisoning? It’s a very reasonable worry to have.

“You’re a twenty-three year old badass painter who lives in a cool little victorian house.” Priya glances at me from over her shoulder, her curls falling loose into her face. “Just relax a bit, girl. Life is good.”

Well, when she words it like that. . .

We finish up unpacking the rest of the boxes into their rightful areas. I’m exhausted and by the looks of it, Priya is too. Her brown skin is glistening in sweat when she collapses on to my couch. I let out a groan that hardly sounds human, dumping myself into my armchair.

The place is really starting to come together. Slowly. The living room is fully furnished, decorated with soft lighting and a few plants. My easel is positioned next to the huge bay window that looks out to the side of my house. A smile creeps onto my lips.

“Wanna stay over tonight?”

Priya lights up, her dark features glowing with excitement. “Oh my God. Yes bitch! We can do face masks while sipping wine and melting over hot actors.”

I snort. That’s the thing about Priya and I, we’re sluts for a good face mask and red wine. Add Ian Somerhalder into the mix and you’re practically describing heaven.

“Hell fucking yes.” I quip, pushing myself to my feet to collect the supplies. Priya follows my tail, grabbing the face masks from the downstairs bathroom while I pour two very generous glasses of wine.

I plop down onto the couch next to her, pinning my hair into a loose ponytail. She goes to work, slathering the goop onto my face. It reeks of chemicals and artificial fruit, but if the packaging has cute little designs on it, that must mean it’s good.

“Tomorrow is going to be so busy.” Priya groans. I sip on my wine, tilting my head back slightly to dodge the face mask that’s determined to drip into my eye.

“Oh that’s right.” I say. Priya catches the slime just in time, preventing it from successfully making me blind at the ripe age of twenty-three. “You’re huge jewelry drop is tomorrow. You best bet that I’ll be stopping by.”

Priya is by far the best artisan that Florence will ever have. Her jewelry is so unique, yet so breathtaking. She opened her own jewelry boutique at the age of twenty-two. Her shop has been going strong ever since.

The old house creaks and moans. Priya freezes, hands still mid-smoothing the gel across my forehead. I did take the liberty of asking my real estate agent of any possible deaths that could’ve happened in this house, in which she gave me a judgemental lookover before reassuring me that there’s been no such thing to happen beneath this tattered roof.

“You better be. And I know I said your house is kickass, but I think it’s trying to talk to us.”

I snort. “You are crazy.”

She breaks out into a wide smile that nearly touches her chocolate eyes. “Maybe a little.”

“What can I get for ’ya today?” A girl no older than twenty with bright eyes and platinum hair smiles at me. She looks cool, like the kind of girl I’d be far too scared to ever approach in high school.

I rove over the menu above her head for a short moment. “Could I get a medium iced caramel macchiato and a large iced white chocolate latte?”

Her lips pull into a tight smile. “Sure thing.”

I hum along to the soft music playing throughout the cafe while platinum goes to work on the coffees. It isn’t too busy today, considering this is the only cafe within a fifteen mile radius of Florence. It’s a small town.

Today is a special day for Priya. What better a surprise than showing up to support her with her favorite coffee. While I wish I had the money to buy her something more extravagant, I know she’ll love this all the same.

“Here you go, it’ll be fifteen dollars even.” Platinum says and I jerk my head back to her.

Fifteen dollars for two cups of liquid Miralax. When did life get so damn expensive?

I tap my credit card against the scanner, moving it away once I hear the tell tale beep.

“Thank you.” I smile at her before plucking up the coffees and heading straight for the door. I have approximately five minutes to get to her shop, which is only a short walk down the road, before she gets bombarded with jewelry hungry customers.

If I can keep a good pace and successfully jay-walk without getting grounded into the pavement, I should be able to make it.

And I do exactly that. Panting like a overweight dog after a walk, I burst through the glass doors of Priya’s shop. Her head shoots to me and a smile bites at her lips.

“Jesus fuck.” I say through heavy breaths. Priya saunters over toward me, grabbing her coffee from my clutch. “I swear a Kia Soul just tried to intentionally run me over.”

She snorts in between sips of her overpriced coffee. “It’s always the Kia souls. I swear, there’s gotta be some sort of law that requires stuck-up assholes to be obligated to buying that car.”

Hallelujah to that. I can recall more road side horror stories involving Kia Souls than what’s deemed normal.

Priya looks pretty today. Well, she’s always pretty and it drives me freaking nuts. But she obviously put in a little more effort today, pinning her curly hair into a half-up, half-down hairstyle. Her eyelids are colored in a dark brown shadow, acting as a great contrast against her thick, black eyelashes.

“So, show me the new collection. I’m so excited to see what your little mastermind was able to piece together this time.”

Priya smiles, nonchalantly waving off my compliment. The girl is awfully humble considering she puts Tiffany and Co to shame.

“I decided to call it the midnight collection. I involved a lot of amethyst and sapphire in this set.” She says as we cross the store to a display of rings, necklaces and earrings. They’re all breathtaking. I honestly expected nothing less. Shades of deep blue and purple gems adorn each set of jewelry, all strewn along in different hues of silver and gold pieces.

She really outdid herself with this one. I can’t believe Priya hasn’t been talked about on every news channel available in America yet. Her talent is fucking unmatched.

“Priya this is freaking nuts. You are nuts. Holy cow.” I can hardly talk through the state of pure awe I’m in. Well, that and the goofy smile pulled across my lips.

She reaches forward and taps her digit against a box displaying a delicate silver chain holding a carefully sculpted chunk of amethyst at the end. “And this one is for you.”

My mouth pops open. “Priya, are you sure? It’s so beautiful.”

She glances at me with a look that screams ‘are you kidding me, bitch’. “Duh, I’m sure. I think it’ll make those big blue eyes of yours really pop.”

She works to carefully place the necklace into a small black velvet box. I take it from her and slide it into my purse, making sure it’s tucked away deep and tight. I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself had it fell out of my purse for whatever reason.

The bell to the shops door dings once. Twice. Thrice. We both look over in unison to see a throng of customers shuffling in. They’re nearly tripping over each other, all sights locked on the display currently behind us. I offer Priya a hug followed with a see you later and get the hell out of there. If the Kia Soul wasn’t going to be the reason I’m flattened like a pancake, then these customers will.

Cool wind gusts past me, blowing my hair behind my shoulder the moment I step out of the shop. Summer here in Florence is halting to a slow stop and fall temperatures are starting to take reign. I hug my cardigan closer to my body and make a move down the road where I parked my Honda Civic. Trying to find parking in this strip is like searching for a needle in a haystack. I’m lucky I even found one semi-close to her store.

“Oh, fuck.” I grunt out the moment my shoulder crashes into something hard. Dull pain radiates through my shoulder and I reach up to cradle it. When I look up to see what – or who – I’ve crashed into, the air is completely sucked from my lungs.

He’s tall and he’s so god damn handsome. Holy moly. I swallow and take one good look at the handsome stranger.

Impressively tall, muscular, hazel eyes and dark brown hair disheveled against his forehead. He looks freaking delicious.

“I’m so sorry.” I start up. His eyes flit across my features. “I wasn’t paying attention. Totally my fault.”

His jaw pulses, but he stays quiet even so. Embarrassment takes control and my cheeks heat up a thousand degrees.

Jesus Sofia, could you be any more pathetic? Just walk away!

I give him an apologetic look before pushing some of my hair behind my ear and walking away. Quickly.

So much for having my very own Hallmark moment, right? Jeez.

When my cruddy Honda Civic comes into view, I nearly sprint to get to it. That was so incredibly embarrassing, I think all of my ancestors are laughing at me right now. Out of curiosity, I glance up at the sky. I’m not sure what I was expecting.

“Stop laughing at me, okay? You guys are dead for a reason.” I mutter, giving the sky one good dirty look and then I slide into the drivers seat. I’m sure I look like the rest of the drugged up cooks that appear down the strip from time to time but I don’t care.

When I eventually make it back to the house, a large Amazon box sitting in front of my front door snags my attention. I shove my keys into my purse and half jog - half speed walk to the box. A smile pulls at my lips. My canvases came in. Finally. That shit got put on delay twice.

I carry the box in with just about as much grace as a toddler carrying a toy far too big and heavy for them. The box slaps against the hardwood floor with a loud smack. At least I have something to help me forget about my embarrassing encounter earlier.

That’s gotta count for something, right?