(Alina’s POV)
The worst part about being back wasn’t the cramped space. It wasn’t the stained walls, the weird creaking in the pipes, or even the fact that my childhood bed still smelled like dusty dreams and old perfume.
But no, It was the giggles, those damn giggles.
They were high pitched and slurred. Giddy in a way that made my skin crawl. My mom hadn’t giggled like that in years not since Sophie and I were little girls hiding behind the couch cushions, trying not to breathe too loud while she flirted with whatever loser-of-the-week stumbled through the door.
And now, that same sound pierced the paper-thin walls.
Along with his voice. Brent’s deep, gravelly drawl was like a motorcycle revving up in my eardrum. Always laughing, always touching her and always there.
I pressed a pil
