LITTLE WHITE LIES

CHAPTER ONE

"Luddy! Lets makes pasta! Ve~" the small Italian girl chirped. She wore a small frilly skirt and a tank top. Her hair was tied back, with trendles of auburn strands framing her perfect face with a single gravity defying curl bouncing as she talked.

A tall blonde shook his head, but agreed to making pasta. His iron cross swung back and forth from his neck as he bent over to pull out the pans. The Italian girl giggled and 've~'ed as she watched him do so from her perch on the counter while he retrieved the abundance of ingredients from the pantry. He stood up and grabbed a few iron pots. "You're so strong," she giggled.

The potato fuck practically lives at our house. Lovina rolled her eyes and stomped away from the pair and murmured curses under her breath. Stupid bastard. Stupid sorella. She stomped up the stairs leading to her room and flung her door open and slamming it shut, making the windows of the old house rattle.

She glanced at the mirror as she walked through her dimly lit room, two big brown eyes stared back that nearly matched her hair. She paused to watch her hand absent mindedly twirl the tips with her tomato red fingernails. A stubborn curl swooped out from her bangs to match her sisters, and no amount of hairspray, water, or hours upon hours of attempting to brush it down ever fucking tamed it.

She gave a little huff as she checked herself out. Long, naturally tan legs, small waist and an ever present pout on her lips. She could remember how Toni used to tease her and always asked why she didn't smile, that bastard. Her normal response was to cross her little arms and stick out her tongue at the Spaniard. He would always tell her she had a beautiful smile.

She quickly looked away from the mirror when she felt her cheeks turn red, if she saw herself she would only realize just how red she had turned and that her skin color resembled her favorite food always making it more embarrassing. She shook her head trying to clear the thought and shuffled over to throw open the window.

Her room was on the second story and vines crawled up the length of the house, begging for entrance at her window. Sunlight filtered in through the open window, casting light on her wall. A wall wouldn't describe it correctly though, it was more of a time capsule if anything. Pictures covered the entire surface. Pictures of architecture and familiar places, but mostly just people. Her and her sister mainly. She turned away from the wall and leaned out the window, delicate elbows resting on the sill.

Feliciana, her perfect freaking sister who could do everything that she could, but better. Ever since they were young they were compared. Feli could paint beautiful pieces and could sing melodies that would rival those of a songbird. She was always happy and pleasant, adults loved her. And why wouldn't they? She was such a refreshing contrast to her older sister who had the mouth of a sailor ever since she first opened her mouth. She wouldn't be surprised in the least if her first words were "fuck you".

The boys always liked mi sorella better than me, not that it bothers me at all. I don't want guys drooling over me, opening doors for me, asking me to dances. Who would want that anyway?

She sighed. Just about every girl in the world. Feliciana was so pretty and perfect that the boys at our school just flocked to her. She would giggle at everything they said and would bat her eyes innocently at them, and the boys would immediately become wrapped around her delicate little finger. She was cute and talented and nice, and everyone likes her better than me because she was just so fucking happy all the fucking time. No one cared about her bitchy older sibling who was always there for the airheaded, ditsy, lovable one when she came home, tears streaking down her cheeks.

They all favored feli, and everyone at school would rather her sisters company in her stead. Well, there was one exception. One exception that she couldn't fucking shake if she tried. And she definitely tried. Antonio followed her around like a lost puppy despite the two year age gap. He was always there for her when no one else cared. He just brushed off the daggers she shot at him with her eyes, and saw through her …colorful vocabulary to see her for who she was. Somehow the Spaniard managed to weasel his way past her nearly flawless defenses. He was a family friend who ended up taking the sisters in after their parents died. Just downstairs he was probably watching a movie at that moment.

The spring breeze lifted her hair, and tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but of course, she would never admit it.

But of all the guys to be just friends with... her sister picked the potato bastard. His entire existence managed to offend her in every way possible. And its so obvious that he has a huge crush on mi sorella. But he eats potatoes for fucks sake. An he's all about training and running and push ups and shit. He makes sorella run too. Serves her right. She shouldn't be hanging out with a bastardo like him.

If she had just hooked up with him, she would have dumped him quickly enough. Sure it would be repulsive, but I would see less of the bastard. It is even more stupid though, because she treated the potato fucker like her boyfriend but denies to actually have feelings past friendship, I don't get it! I guess she never had to treat a guy any other way, and doesn't get that you don't flirt with your guy friends that are just fucking friends with. I love mi sorella, but when will she learn?

Heavy footsteps approached the door, but she didn't move. She recognized the pattern of those footfalls anywear. A knock sounded from the other side of the closed door.

"What do you want?"

"Lovi, can I talk to you?" Antonio asked. She turned around a leaned against the window sill, the Spaniard's hair was sticking up in every which way presumably from him running his hand through it. It was oddly charming. Charming? Not charming, stupid. Like a poorly maintained dog, that bastard.

Nonetheless, she was interested. He only did that when he was nervous.

"Spit it out," she sighed, flopping into her bed, examining her painted nails, looking completely uninterested, but actually burning to ask him what has got him all riled up.

He sighed and sat on her bed next to her, making her side raise up a bit to balance them out, tossing her to one side in the process. Bastard, I was comfortable too.

He ran his fingers through his hair. There he goes again.

"Well, I like this girl," he started. Lovinas eyes went wide and her heart fluttered. From shock of course, he just caught me off guard. That's all. I don't hope he's talking about me. No fucking way. Of course not. "I have for a while," he smiled at his hands clasped together as if he were thinking about her.

She stared at his hands and knew how calloused and scarred they were from spending hours in the melting heat picking tomatoes and saving the best ones for her. The first time he gave her one a huge smile stretched across her face before she could stop herself and she snatched it out if his hands and sunk her teeth into it. The flavor of the gorgeous tomato flooded her mouth and she sighed. When she opened her eyes again Toni was staring at her with those sunny green eyes. "I've never seen someone who loves tomatoes that much. Hey look! Now your face kinda matches the tomato too!"

"I mean, I really like her," he said again with a sheepish grin.

Romana nodded, feeling her heart beat a little faster. She dared another peek at him. He was in his gardening clothes that fit him snug enough to get a faint outline of his defined muscles. He still smelled like tomatoes. But not in a bad way, just in a masculine way. In a way that is definitely not intoxicating to the senses. Pft, not at all.

"I have known her for quite some time, and her face just brightens up my entire day. I can't ignore my feelings anymore," he chuckled. "I have been meaning to ask her out for some time, but I don't know how."

Lovina tried to beat down the stupid butterflies that paraded around in her stomach "Y-you could just ask her," she blurted out. "I mean, she probably doesn't need some crazy scheme. Not that I would know, I don't know this fucking girl, how am I supposed to know if she wants you bastard!" she said in a rush.

"Actually, you do know her," he said bluntly. His green eyes met hers and she couldn't look away.

"I-I do?" She stammered.

"Yeah," a wolfish grin spread across his face. She loved that smile. No I fucking don't! Well, maybe a little. It's not like it makes him ten times hotter or anything like that, it just looks good on him. Fuck, no it just suits him. Shit, it's just...damn it.

"You do," he said.

Her breath hitched and she was sure that he could hear her heart beat by now.

"And I was wondering..." He looked a little nervous. Was he asking her out? Was he finally asking her to be his girlfriend?

"If you..." he twiddled his thumbs. Was he really asking her to be his? To kiss her in the tomato fields? To hold hands with her in public for everyone to see, and whisper Are they together?

"...would let me date you sister?"