Chapter 3: Secret.

SUMMER.

I pushed myself through the bathroom door, slamming it right behind me. And only when I leaned against it, left alone in the dark could I finally heave a deep breath. My hands clutched my chest and I feel my erratic heartbeat jackhammering against my rib cage.

My skin was flustered pink and my cheeks were boiling. The hand which he held was still quivering so much that I had to hold still to the bathroom sink. I leaned forward, washing my face beneath the tap before looking into the mirror.

What was this feeling and why was it so suddenly overwhelming?

I mean this was Vincent, this was my father's best friend and up until this moment, I didn't see him as more than that. As sort of like an uncle figure which he was. Calling me often asking me about school and my dreams and everything and during the divorce, we might have spoken a lot more often but it was never about something other than the ordinary.

The normal.

This was abnormal.

He was on the brink on turning forty and here I was, absolutely losing my mind. I cowered my head until my heart rate slowed down and I was forced to shake off the carnal thoughts from my head. He wasn't making it any easier as his longing eyes were all I saw when I closed mine.

But then I could be wrong.

Vincent could have just harmlessly taken my hand and it was me reading too much into it. I could be wrong—I most definitely was. And after convincing myself, I heaved the last breath before walking out the door.

"There you are!" Taylor's voice immediately startled me as I barely made my way out and I shook. "Oh my God" My hands returned to my chest.

"What were you—"

"Taking a shit." I cut through her words, saying the ones that fled out of my lips without much thought. "You pretty much just stormed off earlier" She added and I cleared my throat. "It was urgent..." I replied.

Determined to leave the conversation as quickly as I could, I turned around but Taylor called me back. "Summer!" I stopped in my tracks as she made her away around to face me. "And Vincent," She paused.

"Who is he?" There was a glimmer in her eyes as she asked that question, perhaps his enigma had struck someone else more than me and I arched my brows. "It's just that your father never mentioned him not to talk of anyone coming on our trip you know" She tried to laugh it off but I could see through her like glass.

"Why do you I would know?" On second thought, that might have come out a little too harsh. The truth was I didn't know, well that he was coming on the trip too. But I knew how far they went back—Vincent and dad had a very complicated and weird relationship.

They went all the way back to preschool even and grew up together even closer than brothers could. He was like an uncle but he definitely was not.

"I just..." Taylor stuttered and I inched closer to her, close enough to hear her heart stomping in her chest. "You just what?" I echoed. There was a piercing tense silence between us before she jerked forward.

"Davis!" She launched herself into my father's arms and all I did was shake my head, alongside the feeling that I might have been right about her all along. Taylor could only be using my father but as that thought crossed my mind, I remembered my mum's words.

"Benefit of the doubt" I muttered to myself before turning around. And like a slap to my face, I was met with Vincent. Of course he wasn't the only one standing there but he was the first to capture my attention. My heart lumped in the back of my throat as I tore my eyes away from him.

I could sense he could feel this but then again, it could be all in my head.

"You okay?" My dad asked, watching me zone out and drifting me right back. With a lump slipping down my throat, I nodded. "Yes, yes I am."

"Taylor and I got some chicken on our way and you could help her make something for dinner. I'm thinking soup" He turned to Vincent who nodded and there was something enigmatic and powerful about his aura.

"Delightful." His lips curved as he looked back at me. Taylor kissed dad before making her way into the kitchen and as I trailed behind her, I was certain I could feel Vincent's eyes burn through my back.

Certain, because when I looked back, our eyes jammed like a railroad collision and I caught the ghost of a smile across his lips. Maybe, just maybe it wasn't all in my head, I thought.

But it didn't change the fact that it could never happen.

-

From a distance, I could hear the voices of both Vincent and my dad. My eyes darted upwards occasionally and even though deep down I wanted to meet his, he was turned with his back.

It was the just heart stomping feeling whenever we locked gazes—it was a good feeling, raising the hair across my skin and leaving a remnant shiver up my spine each time I thought about it.

I stood above the counter, cutting through the onions and vegetables while Taylor leaned against the table in the back, head buried into her phone as usual. "The chicken is burning!" She suddenly exclaimed and I rolled my eyes to the back.

"Well could you turn it off?" My question made her smile drop and Taylor was immediately flustered. Only later did I realize it was because she was a terrible cook, not just a terrible but even bad enough not to know how to turn off the gas.

"How about...how about you come turn it off?" She asked and I handed over the knife to her. "Well could you cut the onions for the soup at least?" I asked and grudgingly, she reached for it. I wiped my hands across the apron before looking into the pan. But before I knew it, Taylor let out a scream that somehow managed to draw my dad's and Vincent's attention back to the kitchen.

My heart stomped but for whatever reason, his eyes bolted to me first before he realized it was Taylor. "Shit!" She cussed with a bleeding finger from a knife cut which she sucked unto. "This is all your fault" She shot me a death glare. "Can you not cook?" It was then I realized that, as well as the fact that I was finishing dinner myself that night. But all Taylor did was brush into my shoulders.

"I'm not built for this life" She muttered beneath her breath, slamming the door behind her and something about the way she reacted caused a smile to flicker across my lips. However, it disappeared when I looked up to see the disappointing glare of my father.

He stood up, of course he did, trailing after Taylor into the room.

And I scoffed between my teeth, turning back to the cutting table. However, it didn't take long for a sharp scent to pierce up my nostrils. The next thing was a large callous hand which grasped unto mine. I closed my eyes with that shiver slithering through my spine.

This couldn't be in my head.

He was really behind me, and for the next few seconds, I could feel the heat from his deep breaths trail along my back. His right hand first gripped around my waist before he moved it up to my shoulders.

"Vincent" His name almost escaped with a moan before I cleared my throat. "What, sunshine?" There was so much innocence in his eyes when I turned to the side to look at him. I know, I know innocence and Vince didn't exactly go in the right sentence.

To be honest he looked like how you'd picture one of the baddest boys from those YA books if they'd grown up. Down to his chiseled jaw, and his broad shoulders. His tattoo, one of which was the grim reaper that ran along the line of his back in a near perfect angle.

He was the least innocent when it came down to it, but then his eyes gleamed so empty and void like every action he took wasn't well intended, including the second his hand lasted on my waist.

It wasn't the first time I'd been close to him but the way he used his hands to express himself was. And his lips curled into the perfect smirk before he hefted the knife from my hands.

"Let me help you" He urged, breathing down my neck and his voice was deep, settling in the depths of my stomach. "I'm pretty sure I can cut vegetables" I rolled my eyes. "Not that way, you can't" He said. "You could hurt yourself, I won't want you to hurt yourself" He added.

And my heart lumped in the back of my throat as I looked to the board. There was a tingly sensation that ran up my legs and the sense that this was Vincent was so far fetched in my head that moment. His behavior made me feel sick but at the same time, my heart was pounding in my chest because each second, my dad could walk out those doors.

I didn't leave though, I stood still, not wanting him to move away. Tearing my eyes away his lust-filled ones, I looked at how he sliced the onions so gently and carefully and it was hilarious because never in a million years did I look at Vincent and would think twice whether or not he knew how to cook.

"There." He whispered once he was finished, done in a minute what I had been going at for nearly an hour and I was impressed. I didn't hide it across my face when I turned around. Only then did he back away with his arms leaning against the table behind him and he smirked back at me.

"Since when did you learn how to cook, uncle Vincent?" I asked with a sheepish smile and he shrugged. "I guess I've always found it easy to pick up a skill or two" He bit into a carrot and I was grossed out. "Ew" I rolled my eyes whilst he grasped in his arms, trying to shove it down my throat. Ideally, he usually had fun like this.

He might not have been the most innocent but he was fun. Only now, it was difficult to set aside what was actually fun and sensual. But in that moment, a creeping desire filled me—it was both. "And between you and me," He caged my wrists in a firm grasp, turning me around with my back.

His voice danced against the skin across my neck as he stroked my light brown hair to the side of my shoulders.

He whispered, "You can call me Vince. No longer Uncle behind it." And my stomach tied into a blissful knot.

He drew away once the handle of the bedroom door opened and my father came out. And I looked to him, a little sore in my throat to meet his little devious wink. But those weren't the words that stuck with me.

It was what he said right after which was clear as day that this wasn't just me—it was Vincent, and what he wanted. My eyes darted to my wrist, burning from where he touched while his voice echoed back to me.

"It would be our little secret." And he unleashed with those words, the emotions I had tried so hard to suppress all day. "Are you okay?" Almost startled by my father's words, I shook.

"Yes, yes" I looked him plainly in his eyes and lied. "Yes, I'm okay." And in that moment, I pushed the hardest lump down my throat.