4: Burning

•Maya•

Awkward.

One word to define how everything felt.

Because why was the whole town fully booked at the exact time I desperately needed a place to spend the night?

Liam stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“So, no rooms?” he asked, and I pursed my lips.

Oh well. I had to put up with this, unfortunately.

“There won’t be rooms available for now—said the ten receptionists I met,” I muttered, glancing around the room. A TV in the middle, one couch, a fireplace, a kitchen, a staircase, and...

I couldn’t believe I’d been scammed out of this.

It would’ve been the perfect place to spend the summer, recovering from a breakup and betrayal. But well, that was also taken from me too—unfortunately.

“There’s just one room here. I believe you know that already,” he said, tone dry. I sighed and met his eyes.

“Look, I just need a place to sleep. I’ll go search for a room tomorrow and be off your ass,” I said, then frowned. “I’ll take the couch.”

I glanced at the couch in question and almost cringed at how small it looked.

That would hurt.

Liam huffed. “And I’m just supposed to let you take the couch, yeah?” he asked.

My frown deepened. I was trying to figure out what he meant.

“Since it’s just for a night, take the bed. Room’s upstairs,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Can you not do this right now? Act all nice and stuff? I’m gonna take the couch. Have your bed.”

I walked over and sat on the couch, testing how comfy it was.

Well. It was manageable. It’d get me to morning.

Liam huffed again.

“You grew some guts, pookie. Did I give you enough space? Was seven years too much?” he asked.

I sighed. God knew this was the last place I wanted to return to, but after paying a cab to drive me around searching for hotels and finding none, I had no choice.

And this…

This was making me regret it. I had a lot going on in my life right now, and even though it still stung a little—thinking about how he made high school hell for me—it was the last thing I wanted to dwell on right now.

“I’ll leave before you’re even awake,” I said flatly.

He hummed. “Didn’t you just say, ‘Rooms won’t be available for now?’”

He stepped into my line of vision, one perfect brow raised.

My eyes roamed his face before I pressed my lips together.

Somehow, it wasn’t fair that he’d grown hotter.

Not fair.

Nature was a bitch—dishing out unfair treatment to the best people and giving the mean ones pretty privileges.

“I’ll figure something out. Can you just let me be now?” I asked.

He stared at me for a long second. It made me very uncomfortable.

“Good luck sleeping on that,” he said, then turned around and walked up the wooden staircase.

I watched until he disappeared from view before sagging into the couch, glancing at my luggage still sitting in front of the door.

I stared into nothing. A small sigh escaped me.

Coming to Tuscany had felt like the best option at the time. I hadn’t even thought it through. I had flight tickets and a booked apartment.

But no.

I was scammed out of $450 for a vacation house that had never even existed.

My phone rang. I sat up lazily for a second before pulling it out of my pocket.

I stared at the caller.

Tom.

Just seeing his name made my heart clench—like it suddenly remembered it was supposed to be mourning.

The call went to voicemail. The screen went dark, only to light up again a second later.

Same caller.

Same result.

I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him.

Not after what I saw.

The betrayal. The heartbreak.

He made me realize that love wasn’t cut out for me—that no one could fully love me after all.

Not with Jenny in the picture.

I lay on the couch, curling into myself, knees to my chest.

It wasn’t comfortable, but definitely better than the cold floor.

I had no idea when I fell asleep, but I was abruptly woken by the smell of something burning—and hurried footsteps padding across the floor. Not calm ones.

Rushed.

Curses rang out—both in Italian and English.

A frown crept onto my face as I tried to piece together what was happening, my brain still foggy.

Light flooded the room, sunrays hitting me directly in the face.

“Shit!” a male voice shouted from the kitchen, and I perked up immediately, recognizing it.

I glanced down at myself. I was still fully clothed.

That meant he hadn’t tried anything funny during the night.

That was… relieving.

I sniffed the air, got off the couch, and followed the noise—and the smoke.

Standing in front of the stove, which was very much on fire, was Liam, trying to put it out… with bare hands.

I rushed toward the sink, poured a glass of water, and turned to him.

“Are you gonna help me out here?” he asked, glancing at me briefly.

I pressed my lips together, grabbed the cup, and dumped the water onto the stove. The fire went out with a hiss.

I slammed the cup on the counter and stared at him.

“You could’ve just said you were trying to burn the place down—with me in it,” I said flatly.

He raised a brow. “And here I am, standing in front of you.”

I pressed my lips together again and walked out of the kitchen.

“Hey. Thank you, okay?” he called after me. I didn’t respond.

“Let me buy you breakfast, at least,” he added.

“Not interested,” I muttered—and I meant it.

I didn’t need anything from anyone—least of all Liam Carter.

I wanted him at arm’s length.

Time to go searching for a room… again.

Oh boy.