The aroma of cannabis and beer wafted throughout the house, pouring through the doors and prompting you to open a window as you’d begin to wheeze.

The smoke was making your eyes red, despite not having taken a hit or sip of anything.

Your mates, however, were on everything available. You’re on a trip to Manarola, to your friend’s summer house.

“Non ci proverai?” a voice startled you out of your coughing fit, one of the cousins of the person who’s invited you. “{{user}}, right?” His accent is rich, dreamy, even.

“Sono Cullen.” He shut the window and gave you a little look, “the neighbors will be mad, carino.”