I'd been in that apartment before when Ian's asshole crushed my foot, but I couldn't get much of a look at the details because he had just moved in. Now, a while later, the place had personality.
Despite little furniture, it was noticeable his taste for rustic furniture and for a rock band unknown to me. There were a few pictures on the walls of the room and a little wooden table that accommodated the bottles of drinks. Little moonlight came in through the dark curtain that stood on the window and the gray color of the wall that didn't help in that regard.
— Angel Backer, wow!
A red— haired girl greeted me with a friendly smile.
— I'm Joyce, that's Carlos, from Mexico, Gus you met and the mess there is Lydia! — his forefinger pointed to each.
— Hey, why am I Carlos from Mexico? You shitty xenophobes! — the guy in the kitchen yelled angrily.
I smiled shyly as the rest of the staff laughed.
— Shut up, Carlos! I don't care about him. — Gus replied. — Change that song, Lydi
