I just looked at him trying to read him while he talked. He said one word I wasn’t sure what it meant since it might have been Italian. my pata I thought as I listened closely and waited for him to stop talking. I giggled when he said the drinking age was eighteen. “actually the drinking age here in America is 21. However my parents buy my alcohol. They love me and give me everything I want. Which you already know.” I giggled again. I loved having rich famous parents that didn’t care what I did as long as I wasn’t killing
anyone. It made things so much more fun and exciting. I then look at him. “what age can you drink in Italy Vince? I’m sure it has to be at least eighteen.” I then stuck my tongue out at him. I knew he hated it when I called him Vince and that’s what made it even more fun.
I smiled as I listened to him talk. I was intrigued honestly. He seemed kinda shy which just made me want to know more. “May I ask why birdie? Like what’s the story there? I mean if I’m gonna call you it I gotta know the story. So when people ask me I can be like there is a story there. Ya know what I mean?” I smile again as I keep watching people walk by us since we were still standing by the door but not in the way.