Chapter 1 : Mateo

The rain poured as though the heavens themselves wept, thunder rumbling through the sky while wind whipped the trees. Two shadows stood against the storm, one desperate, the other reluctant.

"I love you," I croaked, my voice barely audible over the chaos. She froze, her back to me, rain dripping from her hair and soaking her clothes. For a moment, I thought she hadn't heard me.

"I love you," I repeated, louder this time. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself, but she still wouldn't turn. Gathering my courage, I closed the distance between us in one stride and gently grabbed her arm, turning her towards me.

Her wet body pressed against mine, but she refused to meet my gaze. "Please," I begged. "Just look at me." She grunted and pulled away as I tried to nudge her chin up, but didn't let go. I couldn't. "We can't be together," she sobbed. "It's wrong." "How is it wrong that I love you and you love me?" I demanded, my voice raw.

Finally, she looked at me, her eyes wild and stormy. Tears and rain mingled with her face, but her expression hardened like steel. "We're cousins," she said, her voice cracking. "Not real ones," I shot back, the desperation clear in my tone. Her resolve faltered her eyes softening briefly before steeling once more. Slowly, I let her go, forcing myself to step back. She didn't move at first but then turned away, leaving me cold and alone in the rain.

"Go," I said softly. "I won't come home tonight, but this isn't me giving up, Brielle." Without another word, she walked away taking my warmth with her. Who would've thought all this started because I needed at roommate?

"Mateo, honey, I'm so glad you're home," my mother greeted me warmly, pulling me into a tight hug. Her scent of spices and Miss Dior enveloped me, familiar and comforting. "I'm glad to see you too, Mom," I said, stepping back as my father entered the room. "Such a mama's boy," he teased, clasping my hand in a firm shake and slapping my back.

We exchanged pleasantries before settling in living room. My childhood home— sprawling six bedroom, three-story modern house in California— was just as beautiful as I remembered, with every detail touched by my mother's impeccable design taste. "How are things in New York?" My mom asked, practically glowing with excitement. "Good," I replied, leaning back on the couch. "It's cold, but it's New York."

She smiled, but the look in her eye told me she didn't entirely believe me. "And the dates I've been setting up for you?" She asked, sitting up straighter. I chuckled nervously. "All lovely girls, but not the one." Her face fell, and my dad quickly came to my rescue. "Mateo, come help me in the kitchen. We need to baste the Turkey." As we worked in the kitchen, my dad and I caught up, laughing and joking. Soon family began to arrive, filling the house with noise and warmth.

We were seated for dinner when the doorbell rang. I stood to answer it, opening the door to see Aunt Hera. My heart skipped a beat as my eyes instinctively searched behind her. She was alone. "Aunt Hera," I greeted, masking my disappointment. She stepped inside, handing me a cake pan before heading to the dinning room to join the others.

"How's Brielle doing? Isn't this her senior year?" My mom asked. "Yes," Aunt Hera said with pride. "She's doing amazing at Columbia and still has her full ride. But she just moved off campus , and her roommate backed out, so now she's scrambling to find a new place."

"She could stay with me," I blurted out.