CYNTHIA's P O V

‘‘Italian guys seem like they were made to be fucking perfect...’’ Stef said with a dreamy tone as she turned around to look at one of the many university students that walked past us.

My lips, which were painted with a very light layer of red lipstick, erupted in a short chuckle. ‘‘Guys? You mean, men…’’ I retaliated by shooting a glance at Jake secretly, before moving my attention to the Italian professor of literature that he was speaking ...