Gianna
Shit.
I glance over at the clock again, like it might change its mind.
12:03 p.m.
Just great.
Two weeks here and my routine is officially unrecognizable, sleeping late, eating whenever, having other people at my beck and call. Which should bother me but for whatever reason it doesn't.
Dmitry has been painfully polite since the kitchen incident, keeping a respectful distance, making sure not to speak out of turn like we're both pretending we didn't nearly kiss that day. It's almost worse than him leaving me, at least then I could be angry.
Kevin, on the other hand, has been amazing. After my plea to help me forget Dmitry, he's been an angel, one day at a time with him. We aren’t official, not really, but he treats me like I'm some little creature he can't afford to lose.
St
