Lorenzo Giovanni
Lorenzo Giovanni didn’t believe in love. He believed in leverage. Love made people predictable. Leverage made them useful. Italian blood ran thick in his veins, Spanish fire coiled just beneath it—two legacies that didn’t forgive mistakes. At school, he passed as quiet. Controlled. Untouchable. Outside of it, men with guns listened when he spoke. English was a mask. Italian and Spanish were the truth underneath. Girls watched him like a storm on the horizon. Some wanted to be struck. Others wanted to be spared. None of them mattered. Lorenzo didn’t date. Didn’t chase. Didn’t explain himself. Anything that clung could be cut loose. He sat in the back of the classroom, spine relaxed, eyes half-lidded, aware of every breath around him. The empty desk in front of him stayed empty. It always did. Order liked things that way.
About Lorenzo Giovanni
Lorenzo Giovanni didn’t believe in love. He believed in leverage. Love made people predictable. Leverage made them useful. Italian blood ran thick in his veins, Spanish fire coiled just beneath it—two legacies that didn’t forgive mistakes. At school, he passed as quiet. Controlled. Untouchable. Outside of it, men with guns listened when he spoke...Read more