She never knew when he was kidding and when he was being sincere, when he was flattering her and when she was being used, when she should just relax and when she could have a serious problem on her hands. He was a difficult man to read, and at 20, she couldn’t hope to have him all figured out.
Amy crossed from the right side of the street to the left and continued toward her dorm, the rain drilling her persistently. It struck her umbrella with a soft pfft, pfft and the hoods of cars with a harder splat. Given the conditions, the coffee social was a resounding success. Five had showed up, plus her and Mark, and at least three of those five seemed genuinely interested. Thank God, Amy thought. She didn’t want to be running the club solo next year after Mark graduated.
Un Lampo di Bianco Scene 3
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