"People call those imperfections, but no, that's the good stuff."

***

"Ciao Nonna," I greeted my grandmother as soon as I got home. I found her hunched over the kitchen counter, one hand flipping through the magazine in front of her and her hand on a glass of red wine half empty.

"How was school?" she greeted me, her reponse laced with a slight Italian accent that faded over the years. 

I shrugged. "Good. Nothing out of the ordinary. Are Mom and Dad at work?"

My parents spent most of their time in their workshop in the backyard to run their business, spending most of the time researching, holding meetings, and designing new outfits. While it's weird to have parents who stay at home all day, I don't seem them for a majority of the day.

Her hand slipping the magazine pages froze. "Why are you asking?" she asked suspiciously.

"I have a friend coming over to do an assignment together," I explained.

Nonna's eyes narrowed.

"Maschio o femmina?" she asked quickly in Italian.

"He's a boy, but just as a school partner," I quickly rushed before she makes a comment. Nonna always gets a little too nosy when she hears about a boy coming over, and especially when France coming, I did not want her to get too involved.

"Is it that Asian boy?" Nonna asked, taking a sip of her red wine while watching me shake my head no.

Akito has been coming over to watch movies since school started due to our mutual obsession with movies. Part of me was relieved he was not coming because Nonna liked to use it as an opportunity to joke about him and I dating.

"It's not Akito. It's his friend actually. We are partners for English class," I explained. Before I could go into any detail, my grandmother dropped the magazine to take a long sip of her red wine next to her. She placed her drink to the counter before rushing into the fridge. "Are you okay?"

She ignored me, muttering Italian words underneath her breath. She pulled out various cured meats and cheeses from the fridge, all carefully piled upon one another that could fall off any minute.

"No. Now that I know we have a guest coming, I have to get ready. Come help me cut this salami," she said in a rush, dropping her items onto the marble counter. She gestured me to come, handing me a cutting board from a nearby cabinet.

"He's only coming for a homework. Be normal." I insisted.

She ignored my plea, grabbing her to drink to finish it down in one gulp before placing the empty glance back on the counter.

"I'm normal. I just like to drink. There is a difference," she responded before pulling out a knife. "Cut the meat."

I silent stood next to Nonna, taking the closest salami and cutting it into thin slices. Nonna took the pieces and decorated the plate with cheese and olives she took from the fridge. I focused on cutting rather than the butterflies in my stomach. My body felt anticipation like I use to when I was about to have a playdate when I was younger. My eyes frequently fell onto my phone on the table, waiting for a sign that he was here.

Then it came.

I grabbed my vibrating phone, dropping the nice onto the cutting board.

I'm here.

Two words that caused a smile on my face.

I'm coming down now.

"He's here," I announced to my grandmother, leaving the kitchen before she could react. I walked across the living room towards the front door.

I was prepared for the midnight hair and chocolate brown eyes, but the smile that grew on his face made the butterflies in my stomach grow.

"H-hey," I said.

I didn't know what the hell was wrong with me. Yes, I thought France wasn't a bad person, but he was just a nice guy. A week back, I wouldn't have even gave him a second glance if they crossed paths in the hallway.

"Hey. This is going to sound embarrassing but my grandma is coming up the house to say hi. I tried to stop her, but she always want to do this every time I go to a new person's home," he explained, rubbing the back of his flushed neck with embarrassment.

Behind him, I could see a shorter woman climbing up the stairs slowly. Her skin was a deep brown, only a couple of shades darker compared to France's tan skin. Her hair was cropped short right below her jawline, a reddish brown color that was definitely dyed. Her expressed appeared stern, though it was hard to tell from the black sunglasses covering her face.

"She's stylish," I commented.

He huffed.

"Don't say that to her face or else I will never hear the end of it," he muttered under his breath before she made it to the top step.

"Hi sweetie. I'm Rosa, France's grandmother," she introduced herself, her words laced with an accent.

"Nice to meet you. My name is Francesca," I responded back in kind.

She smiled.

"I know dear," she commented dismissively. Any words left my train of thought from that comment. looked at France, whose eyes grew wide at her comment.

"I'm also the grandma," I heard Nonna shout from inside the house. A calm hand landed on my shoulder and Nonna appeared, smiling at her guests. "Guilina. I'm her grandmother."

She gestured France into the house, almost making him trip in the front door by her corralling. "Come in. I set up snacks for you kids in the kitchen," she encouraged. France kicked off his sneakers by the front door before entering the house. Nonna eyes widened when she pointed to the bag around Rosa's bag.

"I like your bag," Nonna complimented her.

Rosa beamed, holding up her orange bag for Nonna to take a better look.

"Thank you. It's Michael Kors. My daughter bought it for me," she began. Hearing the passion in her voice, it became obvious to me she very much loved her bags, which means that her and Nonna are going to have a lot to talk about.

"I have so many from my kids," Nonna responded enthusiastically, her voice growing louder at the mention of bags.

I touched France's arm. Leaning in closely, I whispered, "We should get going. She loves bags so this could take a while."

France nodded with no hesitation, seeming as equally interested in leaving them alone. I walked across the living room towards the kitchen to get food, leaving our grandmothers to talk on their own. He followed behind me silently, the only indication of a presence behind me was the slight noise when walking across the marble floor.

When we arrived to the kitchen, I took the antipasto platter Nonna set up, compiling a sampling of different meats, cheese, crackers, dips, and olives for us. France was busy looking around the kitchen, not even realizing that I was looking at him.

I gazed at his messy, midnight black hair that looked like his hands had run through it many times. His cheeks were smooth with a blemish in sight. His was wearing a red and white sweatshirt was slightly big on him with sleeves that were frayed at the end.

"So welcome to my home," I said, picking up the wooden platter with food one top. "Let me give a quick tour before my grandma yells at me for not doing it." 

He nodded, taking one more glance.

"No need for it. I've been here before," he joked a little too cockily. His smile dropped when he saw my reaction. "Too soon?" 

Not realizing that my smile disappeared, I pulled one on him. "Maybe just a little," I said. Brushing the thought aside, I pointed to the next room. "Let's keep going." 

He followed behind me until we reached the sunroom adjacent to the kitchen.

"Wow. Fancy," he said with appreciation, looking around with interest.

Nonna liked to cook with fresh ingredients like she would in Italy, but New Jersey's cold weather won't support her vision. In response, my parents built a sunroom for her to relax and grow different herbs and vegetables. Plants were surrounding the entire perimeter, all growing with different things. Mom picked out the pots to compliment the brick wall that was connecting between the kitchen and the sunroom. There were a set of couches and a table with accessories to decorate the sunroom picked by Mom and Nonna.

It was my favorite place besides my bedroom in the entire house.

"Thanks. Let's sit there and do work," I instructed, placing the platter at the middle of the table. I took the closest seat where my laptop and bag was already located. France dropped his bag on the couch next to me, and sat down.

"This is a nice room," he said, looking around with interest.

I smiled with pride.

"This is my favorite place. Nonna likes growing things for cooking so my parents-" France cried out in pain, hunching over the couch.

"What's wrong?" I asked, watching him crouch in pain. He groaned loudly, putting his hand on the bottom of his leg.

France did not respond right away, hissing when he looked down at the ground.

Then I heard the growl from the bottom.

"Your dog is biting into my leg and he won't get off. Get him off before I kick him off?" France wheezed. Bruno growled again in response. I got up to grab Bruno by the collar. After a few pries, he managed to loosen his grip enough to let go of France's pants let.

"Bruno, no," I scolded.

My dog whimpered, looking at me with wide puppy eyes like he did the day we adopted him from the shelter. I rubbed his head.

"You're too sweet to be doing things like that," I cooed, rubbing his favorite spot right below his job. France snorted at the comment and rolled his eyes. Bruno leaned his head in, wanting me to scratch him a little more before he looked at me with that innocent face.

I picked up Bruno to put him in a dog pen that was sectioned off into the kitchen. I managed to quickly shut the door before Bruno could enter the room again before making my way back to the couches. France, who was still rubbing his leg, looked up.

"Too bad your dog doesn't like me though," he commented with a cynical laugh.

"Do we really want to think about why he might not like you? You obviously scared him," I said, pretending to ponder on the obvious reasons why Bruno doesn't like him. I picked up a slice of cheddar cheese and popped it into my mouth. "Anyways. He's gone and we can get started reading."

I picked up the Jane Eyre book provided in class to start the readings. Despite the comments I said to Akito about not judging this book, he was right. I kept using the antipasto platter as an excuse to stop reading to eat something before returning to the pages.

This method only got me through the first thirty pages before I deemed the book too dry to read. After reading the same paragraph for the past ten minutes, I finally pulled away from the book to focus on something else.

I wonder if the movie is better than this. 

I sighed, peering above my book to see what France was doing. Unlike me, he seemed focus on the reading. Once in a while he would lean over, occasionally a piece of meat or olive, not once taking his eyes off the book.

His eyes were slightly narrowed to read the small print, his mouth slightly moving as if he was reading the words under his breath. My eyes focused on his mouth, noticing how pink and soft it was.

Soft?

I looked back down at my reading, focusing on the words in front of me and not the words being muttered under his breath. After a while, my eyes made their way up past the pages to look at France.

Unlike before, his eyes were looking off into the distance. His mouth was now pressed into a firm line. His fingers were tapping against his book in rhythmic notion that he was not aware.

"Are you good?" I asked loudly.

He blinked, his eyes refocusing on me.

"Did you say something?" he asked.

I closed my book on my lap.

"You seem distracted. You've been looking at the same page for a while."

I bit my tongue, hoping he doesn't realize that I have been watching him. His head was tilted quizzically, not saying anything. 

He shrugged slowly. "Er....I don't know," he confessed. "I'm just thinking about the guys." 

"I know you guys hang out all the time. I'm sure you can hang out with them any other time. We have to finish this. There is so much to read and we have to write something after this," I said. He nodded, flicking between the pages of his book. 

"I know. I know. I was just thinking about Devon. He's not be feeling well," France said, his voice abrasive like he is mentally debating whether to disclose his thoughts to me. 

I nodded with understanding. 

"Break ups do that to people."

His head shot up, his eyes widening with shock. "Break up?" he echoed. He tossed his book onto the couch, his body was alert. "Devon and Asami broke up? What? When? Who?-"

"Who is obviously Asami and Devon," I said. France looked at me weirdly at the joke. I didn't know why I had a habit of making jokes in uncomfortable situations. "Yeah. Asami and Devon broke up during the Halloween party. Did he not tell you?" I asked slowly, watching surprise wash over his face.

After everything with Akito went down, all the boys wanted to go home because the mood was killed. It was only then I managed to talk to Asami, who told me that Devon and her broke up during the party. Any plans that formulated this week became primarily keeping her company, eating a lot of ice cream, and sleepovers. 

I didn't realize this wasn't public information.

France pointed to his face. "Does this look like a person who knew about this?" he asked sarcastically, his voice slightly harsh at the information. "He just told us he is sick." 

"Maybe he's not ready to talk about it," I tried to reason. "Some people can't be rushed."

Devon was the type to keep personal information to himself. I have known him since they were dating, and I couldn't say much about his personal life. Asami probably knew but I never thought to ask and invade Devon's privacy. The only thing I cared about was whether he was making Asami happy.

That was something I understood firsthand. When I left Joey, I needed that space. All I could hear was his voice and his demands. My friends held a different narrative of what was happening in my relationship, and I just wanted it to stop. I wanted the silence so I could finally hear my own words instead of his.

This was something familiar.

"Maybe. Shit. Now I have to check on both Alex and Devon," France announced, running his fingers through his hair.

Alex too?

"Why Alex?" I asked.

"He's been acting weird and distant," France muttered to himself. He froze and his eyes flickered on me. "Do you have a secret explanation for that as well?"

I shook my head, mentally filing through the memories of the party. Alex disappeared for a while, but Asami said he was probably hanging out with his other friends.

I nodded, thinking back to Alex's behavior. Nothing seemed that out of the ordinary when I have spoken to him. There were a few moments of awkward hellos, but I thought that had something to do with me, not Alex.

I looked up to see France trapped in another thought. It became easy to notice when he was in another world. His eyes glossed over everything but retaining no details in. He was biting on his lower lip, processing the information I was sharing. 

He exhaled his breath for a long silence. "Devon and Asami looked fine at the party though." 

Now we are back to Asami and Devon. Well now that he knows, I can probably talk more about it. 

"I think it happened during the party," I said. "Maybe it happened after you saw them."  

"Why did they break up?" he asked. 

I shrugged. Asami didn't say why. Anytime Devon was mentioned, she would just cry. "I couldn't tell you. Break ups happen."  

He shook her head.

"Nothing is wrong with it, per se. You know that feeling when your body is trying to tell you something but you can't understand what's it trying to say? It's just so weird that Akito-," he repeated out loud with confusion. He got up. "I'm going to be completely honest. I don't feel like doing the assignment right now. I can finish the rest of the reading tonight and we can discuss about it tomorrow and go from there. Sounds good with you?"

I nodded, ignoring the disappointment that I felt. I wanted tell him how most people wouldn't want to leave because they heard their friend broke up with someone, but I remained silent when I noticed the distress on his face. 

He pulled out his phone, looking through at something before he put it in his pocket and looked at me.

"I'm going to see Asami later so that works for me," I lied, beating myself up for caring about hanging out with him. I wondered what she thought about the fact Devon was not announcing that they broke up.

"How is Asami?" France asked. He made a sour face. "Right. Dumb question."

He tried to lean in to pick up the half empty antipasto plate, but I stopped him before he could. After insisting that it's okay to leave it, I led him to the front door.

"It was nice of you to come," I said with full sincerity.

He gave a wary smile.

"Thanks. I'm sorry if I'm weird today. I think it's just been a long day," France apologized.

"Do you want me to drop you home?" I offered.

He shook his head.

"That's fine. I can text my Mom to pick me up," he said, pulling out his phone for good measure. I wanted to ask for him to stay until his mom was ready but he gravitated towards the door like he was ready to bolt out of the door.

I opened the door to allow him to step outside. I stayed on the other side of the door, leaning against the frame.

"Thanks for coming over."

"No problem. Your house was a trip down memory lane," he laughed. The awkward moments for the past few minutes disappeared when we smiled.

He gave a quick wave. "I will talk to you later, Francesca."

He turned around and started to walk down our steps. I watched him for a few more seconds before I forced myself to shut the door. It was at that moment I had to rip off the huge smile that was on my face.

When I tried to walk through the kitchen to get the antipasto platter in the dining room, I saw Nonna sitting on the same chair, looking at her phone, and with a glass of red wine that was refilled.

She looked at me with a large smile.

"His grandmother is a nice person. He's also tall. I approve," she said, her voice slightly cheery though I couldn't tell if it was because of France or the alcohol. I rolled my eyes at her response. She responded by flipping her hand to show that she did not care.

"He's just a friend," I repeated.

"Well, it won't be the last time I will see him. That's all I know."

Author's note: Yay the Frances finally hung out alone! Fun fact, in the first draft that didn't happen until Chapter 22 or around there. What do you think?

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