The sensation of the summer sun would have burned Oliver, if not for the free arm parasol shielding him. That just left a delicious warmth which seeped into the teen’s bloodstream and coursed around his body, lulling him into a state of deep relaxation. Of course, the glass of 1989 Le Bon Pasteur Pomerol didn’t hinder that, either. How jealous those cat people would be if they could see him, bathing in the sun so casually...
However, there was something which did hinder his complete relaxation; Giancarlo, complementing every one of the women in one of his mother’s fashion magazines. Like the Italian even cared for the clothes women wore when they would ‘just end up on the floor anyway’, despite being younger than he was.
“What a unique material this dress is made from - it almost seems weightless”
“Vous êtes un chien, Giancarlo.”
All he received for his insult was an effortless grin lazily thrown in his dir