Journals - English Edition

Prologue

When I look back on that time, the first word that comes to mind is reckless. At eighteen, I was still a mindless playboy, used to having money to burn and almost no parental supervision. My parents were constantly busy with work, and whenever they managed to snag some free time, they’d take off to travel the world and reignite their spark on yet another “honeymoon.” It was sweet to see how much they loved each other, but back then, I didn’t realize that also meant I had way too much room to make my own choices—and they weren’t always the best ones.

Right before my life changed forever, they took off on a major trip. I took advantage of their absence to throw the biggest party that house had ever seen, celebrating the start of summer break. The result was exactly what you’d expect from a guy like me: a trashed house, plenty of stories I’d rather not repeat, and an impossible situation to explain when my parents came home early due to a work emergency.

I was caught drunk in the middle of one of the most embarrassing and disrespectful situations a son could put his parents through: with a girl in their bed.

The fallout was a classic cliché: they decided to ship me off to the countryside, hoping that the distance from the city and a simpler life would get my head on straight.

At the time, I saw it as a punishment. I had no clue my parents were actually pushing me right into the event that would define my entire future.

In the end, though, they just got lucky. It wasn’t just the silence of the country, the simple routine, or being away from the life I knew. Well, maybe in a way it was, because that very simplicity was what allowed me to meet a “pure” girl: my cousin Beatrice.

This story was put together from the memories we kept and the records we left behind over the years. The journals we wrote back then capture the perspective of two young people who still didn’t grasp the scale of what they were living through. Because of that, some pages preserve the innocence and intensity of each moment from that time, while others reflect the people we grew up to be.

Part 1 — Dante

Even though I’d been welcomed in true country fashion—with a huge home-cooked dinner packed with traditional dishes, pastries, and desserts made by my aunt—my first night there was a total drag. The only person in the house anywhere near my age was my cousin, but she acted like a wild animal timidly hiding in the woods. She barely looked me in the eye whenever she dared to speak. Either that was just how she was, or she absolutely hated my presence and made sure to let it show in the dry tone she used all through dinner. I’d never had trouble getting attention from girls, so I couldn’t understand how she could show zero excitement about my arrival. And for some reason, that got under my skin.

The country air wasn’t as refreshing as I remembered from when I was a kid—or maybe years of practically living in air-conditioning had ruined my perception. Bottom line: I was dying of heat and bored out of my mind having to go to bed at nine p.m., especially when back in the city, I’d usually stay up all night. To make matters worse, there was no TV in the room, and the cell service was a joke—not even good enough to stream anything on my phone.

With nothing else to do, I decided to hang out on the porch for a bit. Maybe swaying in the hammock would take the edge off the heat and keep the boredom at bay. I slipped out of my room quietly so I wouldn’t wake anyone, stepping slowly through the house and taking in the weirdly peaceful vibe of the place.

That’s when the very first country habit finally brought a smile to my face.

Just a few steps toward the hammock, and I was hit with the sight of my cousin changing her clothes. Right then, I thanked the heavens that the peace and quiet out here lets people sleep with the windows wide open. I ducked, tiptoed along the darkest corner, and crouched near the window to peek inside. Her nipples went hard the second her firm, medium-sized teenage breasts were freed from that uncomfortable bra, standing out even more as the thin fabric of her pajamas slid down over them. My jaw dropped, and a little “Damn!” slipped out of my mouth. I ducked down immediately, flattening myself as close to the wall as I could, praying she hadn’t heard me.

Part 2 — Beatrice

The morning before he arrived, we got a call from my aunt in the city asking if Dante could stay with us for the summer because he’d gotten into major trouble back home.

It had been years since we last saw each other. The last time, we were still kids, and since I’m three years younger, I was really little. I remember liking him back then, but I also know how much people change when they become teenagers. I used to be so full of energy and joy as a kid, a total tomboy, but I’d turned into someone much more closed off and shy. So I was really nervous about his arrival, figuring he’d turned into some arrogant city jerk who only cared about parties and sleeping around (I’d overheard my aunt mentioning something like that on the phone while listening in on their conversation). Because of that, I avoided making small talk during dinner the night he got here.

I wanted to size him up first, to see how much worse he’d gotten as a person. But it was hard to keep eye contact with those blue eyes of his. I kept getting this uncomfortable butterfly feeling in my stomach that made me look away, almost like I was repulsed by him, even though he seemed to be making an effort to be polite and nice—despite being obviously snobbish and full of himself. Was I being unfair?

When dinner was over, I helped my mom clean up the kitchen quickly because I wanted to get to my room as soon as possible to figure out how his arrival was messing with me and whether I should even let him get close to me.

Have you ever had that feeling that you’re being watched?

While I was changing, I had the impression I wasn’t alone, but I knew that was silly. The farm is really safe since it’s far from the main road—and in a town nobody cares about—so I brushed it off and took off my clothes. I felt a wave of relief as my breasts were freed from my bra, along with a nice little chill from the breeze blowing in through the window. I felt my nipples perk up as the soft touch of my babydoll nightgown brushed against them. I smiled, feeling relaxed, and pulled my hair up to cool off from the heat before lying down.

A noise outside, sounding like a guy’s voice, startled me, and I started thinking maybe my gut feeling had been right after all. I grabbed my desk lamp—both to light the way and to use as a weapon if I had to—only to find my cousin crouched down by the window.

“What are you doing there?”

He got up and spun some story about seeing a rat. I wasn’t entirely sold, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, mostly because I’m terrified of rats—so if it was true, he actually did me a favor by scaring it off. Besides, I was starting to get curious about the strange feelings he was triggering in me. Why had that pit in my stomach come back? And why were the tiny hairs on my arms standing up when my whole body felt so warm? Actually, too warm in my private parts, in a way I’d never felt before.

“Cuz, it’s really hard for me to fall asleep at this hour, and there’s no TV in my room. Can I watch a little with you?”

I put the lamp back where it belonged and stepped aside for him to climb in through the window.

“Okay, but just for a little bit, and keep it quiet! We go to bed and wake up early around here, so you’d better get used to it.”

Once he was inside, I got into bed, pressing myself right against the corner to give him space, and pulled the sheet over me. Even though I was dying of heat, I was too shy to be in my pajamas around guys, even family.

My heart started pounding when he laid down next to me, and the heat between my legs turned into a throb.

I had a general idea of what happens between men and women; some of my more experienced friends had confided in me about what they do with their boyfriends. But I’d only ever kissed one boy in my life, and he’d never made me feel anything like this. So why did my eyes keep locking onto his lips while he talked, making me crave a kiss when I knew it was totally inappropriate? Especially with a cousin...

Either way, his snobbish tone was gone, and his eyes were soft.

He really didn’t seem like the big bad city bogeyman after all.