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The first thirty-two years of my life, I've never had a taste of alcohol.

Pretty sure you get what I mean; not the cooking type of alcohol but the drinking one, normally paired with the meals or taken when adults are hanging out. Or should I say, the only poison you need after a long, stressful day?

Luca trained me pretty well into knowing my alcohol tolerance, he said the socialites don't get drunk in public so he taught me my limit the way his Dad did with him. Of course I'm not a socialite but it's important since I'm new in this drinking world so I have to know what my body is capable of to say no to another glass, keeping me safe in case I need to rely to myself to get home.

He always reminded me, doesn't matter where I am, how late it is, or how bad our relationship is at that particular moment, I can always call him to ask if he can get me home. He promised he would not judge or say anything, preferred to have me home safely and would never bring up about what happened. That