She didn’t have much. A couple plastic containers and two duffle bags and the entirety of her possessions were inside of his apartment. The objects that once cluttered her impossibly tiny space seemed to almost be swallowed up by the space of his dwellings. “So this is how the other half lives,” she mused playfully nudging him as she put down the last smaller box down, her words laced with a subtle Australian accent. She was only teasing him, it was in her nature - truly, she was grateful for his kind hand. He was easily the nicest person she’d met since she had moved to New York as a young girl. It had been a harsh reality check when she realized the city didn’t quite have the literal or figurative warmth of Bondi Beach at only thirteen years old. Olivia was never one to want to accept help. She had been raised to take care of herself - not that her parents didn’t care for her. She just learned early that her problems just weren’t always the most important. However when faced with the choice of taking Luca’s generous offer, or living on the streets (she would never ask her father for help, nor worry her mother) the choice was easy. Plus it was closer to her classes and the coffee shop she worked at where she first met her new roommate. “You have to have some vino around here, si?” She bonded with him through their Italian roots, and Italians celebrated anything and everything with wine - at least that was her excuse.
@diangelicos
