↷☆ Belle Millers. A 17 year old, blonde, bubbly, ray of sunshine. She's reserved, thrives for academic validation and considers the small cafe she works at her second home. What past does Belle come from? What does this summer entail?
↷☆ Adrian Well...
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I can't believe I just did that. That was so bold. Normally, I'm the most confident guy in the room. Arrogant even. But why does being in the same room as her make me feel like a nervous 12 year old who just asked out their crush?
I'm the heir to the American mafia, for fucks sake.
I let out a sigh. I cannot seriously believe I gave her my number. She's beautiful and knowing we even had a conversation makes my heart warm.
I stare down at my phone on my desk. Will she call me back? What if she doesn't?
I hope she does.
No, I don't care if she does. Obviously.
What if I do care?
"It's fine to care, Adrian" Liam rolls his eyes, walking into my bedroom. "How did you-"
"I know everything" he chuckles like an evil character in a movie.
I roll my eyes, eager to change the discussion. Any topic other than this. Other than her.
"You were quite confident this morning" I state, referring to him obviously swooning over Jaxon in the cafe we went to.
I'm making it my mission to go there as often as I can by the way.
"He's hot" he shrugs.
"You gonna do anything about it?" I question. I already knew Liam was gay. Since we knew each other from 12, we've told each other everything. That's what two kids pulled to grow up faster than they should do. Stick together.
My dad hired Liam as a 'soldier' in a sense. He was part of the backup team, only needed when big events happened. One day, he was dropping off some side-documents to my father and I saw him. Standing in the foyer.
I knew it was wrong. My dad hiring young children into a mafia. Growing up an heir, there was a lot of pressure. I couldn't have that much pressure on others. Especially, knowing they didn't have the protection of being in the 'Wells' family. For them, it was life or death.
Long story short, I convinced my father to let him out of the mafia. We've remained friends since.
He 'came out' to me a year later. I'm not sure how long he was in acceptance for before he announced it but I'm proud of him. I remember always being so proud of him.
"My suggestion is we go back tomorrow and the day after and every day after that until we bump into him again" he states calmly.
"Stalker" I mutter.
He walks over to me, slapping me on the head. "I heard that, dumbass."
"Good" I laugh.
He pounces forward to hit me again but I push my desk chair, I was sitting on, back. I chuckle as he catches himself before he almost fell flat on the floor.
