aidan
he's sitting on the terrace of a café overlooking the town of bustling people, fist clenched and pressed against his mouth.
"are you done with your cappuccino, sir?" the server asks with a warm smile, italian accent seeping through her voice.
he nods.
just like that, him and everett are... what exactly? over completely? or 'on break' like he had said?
his heart aches, but he can't bring himself to cry.
he can legally drink... and it's a friday night... and there's some party at one of the frat houses...
he reaches for his phone and rubs his face. "riccardo? i'll be over in 10, get me a drink. grazie."
YOU ARE READING
the recovery project [2]
Historia Cortait does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.