It's only been two days, and Pierro is wearing another black polo with dark green sweatpants, but he looks different somehow. More tired, maybe, or just harsher. His eyes are tight and his jaw is clenched.
I swallow uncomfortably.
"I want to apologize." My words are so quiet, swallowed up by the cool air. I clear my throat, and force myself to speak louder. He deserves to hear this. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Pierro sounds almost bored, his frown fixed on my skirt. I shift my weight, but don't reach for the hem.
"For... messing up," I finish vaguely. I don't know how else to explain it. All I know is I missed a really important cue back in my apartment, and when I did, I screwed everything up.
Pierro grunts. It's not good enough.
"Don't worry about it," he says, and raises an arm. Gest
