Why don't you get a taste?
Golden girl Alison Rivers has it all: brains, looks, money, a father who adores her, and any man she wants... Or so she thought.
When she sets her eyes on Lorenzo Visconti, her academy's Italian, irresistible principal, sh...
Imagine meeting the love of your life at a neuroscience class when you're still in high school, two years later you're finally in uni and studying what you're most passionate about, yet every time you're studying or you're in class and your professors are explaining something, you read/hear a word or an expression you first heard from him, and you get flashbacks to when everything was perfect and you either start crying or getting bad anxiety because you can't fathom the fact that he's not with you anymore and you haven't done anything about it because just the thought of doing something is enough to induce an anxiety attack and so you force yourself not to think of it but you can't and you still can't get over him no matter what 😗✌🏼
Anyway let's all thank King Abel for the album.
Lastly, I'm again very sorry for the late update, but this whole quarantining took a toll on my mental health. I hope you're staying safe. 💖
I'm curious to hear your thoughts 👀
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Tachypsychia. Again. The sheer, overwhelming terror I was feeling had induced the production of high levels of adrenaline, which was now rushing through my bloodstream, leaving me a frozen mess. My mind was empty, I couldn't think about anything, let alone plan a complex sequence of movements that would bring me out of my father and his companion's sight. I could very faintly hear Lorenzo's voice, but it seemed too distant, unreachable, as though I'd already lost him. That was it. It was over.
Nora's movements were in slow motion, they were so excruciatingly slow, almost as if the universe wanted to taunt me by prolonging the inevitable. Her hand lazily shot forward, in a direction that was perpendicular to me, and her lips leisurely began to move, then, her head turned towards where her finger was pointing to, and so did my father's.
Wait, what? It was only when Lorenzo tightened his grip around my waist and forcefully dragged me towards the bright entrance doors that I snapped back to reality, a reality that came crashing down at an immensely high speed. "Enzo..." I whispered quietly, still in shock and trying to make sense of what had just happened.
She hadn't talked... But she was going to, of course she was going to. She had simply had the decency to keep her mouth shut, saving herself the public embarrassment that would have ensued had she spoken. She was going to talk at home, clearly. Smart woman.
"Alison!" The man who was with me suddenly yelled.
Startled, I blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. I turned to my left and looked up at him, at his beautiful, concerned face.
His big, strong hand came to rest on my cheek, his features relaxing the more he stared into my eyes. "Are you okay?" He asked, his tone filled with genuine worry and just a tiny twinge of fear.
I nodded and exhaled, then I blinked again. I wasn't inside of the club, nor was I outside into the June heat: I was in a car, his car, yet I couldn't for the life of me remember how I'd gotten there.
