𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫
"You don't know what you're falling for," he breathes, while soft kisses are placed on my shoulder.
"I don't care. I just want y...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"So, you think we'll win this time?" Oliver asks and raises an eyebrow. "Yes, Oliver. You are the best I know and you know that and we've trained for the last couple of months like almost everyday." He nods.
There is a competition every year at the university and there are only a couple of weeks left for us to train. Oliver and I decided to join this year because everyone almost begged us to do it. People say we are like the fastest at college.
"Let's do a challenge, whoever can do all the rounds of the competition faster gets free ice cream from the other." I smile, "Deal." We shake hands.
We go to the starting line and get ready.
"Ready," I yell.
"Set."
"Go." With that, we start to sprint.
My feet feel like floating over the ground. I'm about two meters in front of Oli and sprint even faster to get towards the next round.
People on the grandstands watch us with curious eyes. My eyes go over the stands quickly before they stop.
My eyes find a pair of blue eyes that stare right back into mine.
In a matter of seconds, my feet stumble over themselves and I harshly fall down onto the ground.
I groan.
Pain floods through my body from my left side. I clutch onto it.
Of course does Oliver take the chance to sprint faster and run towards the finish line, leaving me on the ground.
I roll onto my back and my eyes find his blue ones again. He's smirking at me, before he gives me a wink. And with that Mr. Amari walks away.
He knows what he can do to me, how he can distract me when I need to focus. It's the same in class, and I cannot always focus with him being in my head all the fucking time.
I get up and find Oliver at the finish line laughing. At me.
"Fucking asshole," I shout to Oliver while I slowly walk over to him. "You deserved it," he chuckles.
...
"What ice cream do you want?" I ask Oliver, who has a wide grin his face. "Strawberry cheesecake."
I frown, "You want strawberry cheesecake ice cream?" He nods.
"Just because you won doesn't mean you can have the most expensive one," I say harshly. He laughs, "You said yes to the deal. Don't complain now."
We both walk into the small café that's almost empty but I see from the corner of my eye someone I know very well.
Lorenzo Amari.
Ugh. Why does he have to be everywhere I go. Like literally. Why?!
But, he isn't alone. No, they're four other men sitting with him. And I recognize a man with ash-blonde hair. And another one with ash-blonde hair. Jethro and the man he was talking to a couple of days ago.
