Abigail Lacoste
I held the notebooks to my chest, walking away from that man. The governor throws me off balance, completely unsettles me, making me feel something strange, something that makes my heart race and my legs go weak. Maybe it was just nerves, knowing he's a powerful man who, with a single phone call, could take away my scholarship and crush my dream. I allowed myself to smile when I remembered his invitation. Abigail, a simple girl from Texas, having dinner with one of the most important men in California—it had to be some kind of cosmic joke, something to steal my peace or make me dream up a beautiful fanfic in my head. Impossible. Things like that don't happen in real life, especially not with someone like him—thirteen years older than me, with an unhinged daughter who hates me and a full-blown election in motion. It would be a real scandal if someone caught us having dinner together.
"He's crazy, he must be," I said aloud as I boarded the bus and sat next to a teenage girl, maybe fifteen years old. "What the hell? A man like him asking me out."
"Sorry, did you say something?" the girl asked.
"Nothing, I was just thinking out loud." She shrugged and put on her headphones. I was so nervous I couldn’t stop thinking about that man.
I closed my eyes before pulling my phone from the backpack pocket and unlocked it, seeing a new message from an unknown number. When I opened it, I froze. It was the governor, and I wondered how he got my number.
"He's the governor, Abigail. Of course it's easy for him to do stuff like this," I said out loud, making the girl take off her headphones and stare at me.
"Are you okay?" Damn it, I was losing my mind.
"I'm fine, sorry."
She shrugged again and went back to her music. I looked at my phone, reading the message again. My heart was still racing, and my hands were sweating. This had to be some kind of cosmic joke—someone up there messing with my life.
Abigail, I'm very sorry for my daughter's rudeness and I ask you to reconsider my request. Let me take you to dinner. It will be private and, if you feel uncomfortable, you may leave.
Órion Fantone.
"This is insane!" I shouted, catching the girl's attention again.
She got up from her seat, asked to pass, and moved away from me. I was trembling, feeling completely lost. Órion, the governor of California, texting me—it had to be a trap, or I was seeing things that weren’t there. Maybe it's just a formal dinner so he can apologize. I shook my head instantly—there's no way it's just a dinner. Men like that want much more, and I wasn’t falling for the governor’s charm. He wasn’t going to ruin my life. I held the phone in my hands, typing a proper response for His Excellency. I wasn't falling for his tricks.
Dear Governor, I appreciate the invitation, but as I mentioned before, it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to be seen together. You are in the middle of a campaign, and I’ve just received a scholarship granted under your administration.
Abigail Lacoste.
I locked the phone and put it in my backpack. As handsome as Órion was—elegant, with hypnotizing eyes and a seductive smile—I wasn’t naive. I knew exactly where that kind of story ended. It wouldn’t be good for either of us, and in the end, I’d be left heartbroken, having lived a fantasy that only existed in my mind. When I arrived at my aunt’s apartment, I went straight to my room. She was still at work, and I was glad to be alone. I needed to think about everything that had happened that day. I looked at my backpack and had to stop myself from reaching for my phone. I was curious and, at the same time, scared of what message might be waiting there.
"What the hell is going on? Órion, what do you want from me?" I said, pacing the room, eyes fixed on the backpack lying on the bed. "This is madness. Dinner with a man like him?" I let out a laugh. "It’s madness."
I was acting like a lunatic, trying with everything I had not to check the messages, but curiosity won out. I ran to the backpack pocket, pulled out the phone, and unlocked it, expecting to see something new—but he had seen the message and hadn’t replied.
"Better this way. The farther I stay from you," I looked at the messages, "the better it is for my mental health."
Pushing my thoughts aside, I went to the bathroom, took a shower, put on a loose dress, and lay on the bed with a random book. It was already past six in the evening when the doorbell rang, making me jump off the bed, intrigued. Who could it be? My aunt has a key, but maybe she forgot. I walked quickly to the living room, went to the door, and when I opened it, I was stunned by the enormous bouquet of roses in front of me.
"Are you Miss Abigail?" the delivery guy asked.
"Yes, I am."
"These are for you." I raised an eyebrow. I had never received roses before.
"Are you sure they’re for me?" I crossed my arms.
"Yes, they were sent to this address for Abigail Lacoste."
"Hmm." I signed the paper he handed me and took the beautiful bouquet in my hands. I returned to the living room, curious, and to my luck, there was a small note. I opened it, feeling butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
I'm not giving up, golden curls.
There was no signature, but I felt and knew it was him. Órion was trying to seduce me, and now everything was crystal clear. He thinks I’m some naive girl who falls for the Big Bad Wolf’s lines, that I’ll go to dinner and fall in love with him, just so he can have me in his arms and then throw me away like they always do. Furious, I ran back to the room, grabbed my phone again, and unlocked it, typing a proper message for His Excellency. He needed to understand that I wasn’t going to dinner with him, much less keep accepting roses from the governor of California.
Governor, I don’t know what dangerous game you’re playing with me, but I know I won’t fall for it. I’m not an innocent girl, and I’m certainly not willing to lose everything I’ve built just to live some kind of romance with you.
It took only a few seconds for the reply to arrive.
Haha. Golden curls, I simply invited you to dinner. I’m trying to be polite, nothing more. I believe you're drawing the wrong conclusions about me.
Besides being a player, he was also a hypocrite. It was obvious he had ulterior motives. No man sends roses at this hour without wanting something more than friendship.
Let’s say I believe you. We go to dinner and then what? A huge headline appears in the newspapers saying His Excellency is dating a girl thirteen years younger who just happens to attend the same college as his daughter.
My whole body was burning with anger. He should stay away, know his place, and realize this wouldn’t end well for either of us.
What do you want from all this, Governor? This story is going to end badly.
His response left me frozen. No matter how powerful he was, he couldn’t have everything he wanted—and I wasn’t going to comply with his desires.
My driver will pick you up at seven. Be ready.
No, I wasn’t going to that dinner. Mr. Órion would learn that I’m not some silly girl who falls for his charms. The governor would learn to take a no and accept it. He would understand that the two of us together—even just as friends—was practically absurd. I wasn’t falling for his sweet talk.