*Olivia*
I giggled as Giovani kicked open the door to his room. The door swung open with a creak, and he carried me inside.
I hadn’t ever seen his room before, and I was curious how it differed from mine and Dahlia’s. While mine was as generic and bland as possible–perfect for a guest room–Dahlia’s was loaded to the brim with designer brands.
Her closet was bigger than my entire room back home, and each bedroom came with its own private bathroom, I’d learned.
It only made sense that her room was so personal, since she used to come here when she was little with her parents and brothers. I, on the other hand, had never stepped foot in Italy before.
I clutched the champagne bottle tightly in my hands as I leaned over in his arms to get a good look of his room.
Like most of the rest of the house, Giovani’s room was simple. It was more bare-bones than I’d expected, with wooden floors.
