Leif
Eighteen years old feels like too young of an age to feel so jaded by life.
I flick a piece of popcorn off my chest and put my hand down the front of my sweatpants. I flick through the recordings of the trash reality TV shows that I have saved up to watch with Ronan and heave a sigh.
My apartment is a mess. The only time I straighten it up is when Ivy comes over. I haven't showered since Friday morning and I have takeout containers littering my coffee table crusting away over the long ass weekend.
But it's hard to care about much when I feel so lost. I wasn't used to being alone. Sure I had my parents, but I always had Ronan. And sure, I have Hart and Gideon blowing up my cell phone with invitations to this bar or that one, but I just wasn't in the mood.
I hated thinking that I
