2.7
“What are you doing here?” I don’t know what else to say so when I stop in front of Roman, I roll back on the balls of my feet and shove my hands into my sweater pockets.
“I told you I’d come,” he says with a smile. He drills the butt of his cigarette into the brick of the wall and stands. “Want to get out of here?”
I nod and he shoves his hands in his pockets, leading me across town.
YOU ARE READING
Fragments
Teen FictionOne bridge. Two guys. Three secrets. Four therapists. Five attempts. Six months. Seven bad habits. Eight family meetings. Nine visits. Ten cuts. One death. Spiritual #4
