R O S A L I E
Freya has been unsurprisingly awkwardly silent since the dinner ended a few minutes ago. Her cheeks were still flushed, and she was avoiding eye contact with anyone, especially Luciano. She kept her head down, focusing on the task of drying the dishes as I washed them. The sounds of the men talking in the dining room drifted into the kitchen.
"So... Luciano seems... nice," I said, trying to break the silence.
Freya nearly dropped the plate she was holding. "He's... okay," She mumbled, not meeting my gaze.
"Just okay?" I teased, a small smile playing on my lips. "You seem to be a little flustered by him."
"I am not!" She said, her voice a little too high.
"You are too," I said, laughing. "Your face was as red as a tomato."
"It was not!" She protested, but the blush on h
