Page 60 of Corrado

He didn’t see anything but this place.

The League.

That was it.

And the fucking desert around it.

Screw that shit.

It was made slightly more bearable when Alessio was around because that took Corrado’s mind off other things. Or rather, he looked forward to when the day and training was done, and he could head to the privacy of Alessio’s rooms where no one bothered him. It was just him, and Les … nothing else mattered.

Except Alessio wasn’t here.

He was fucking tired.

And today was not the day for this shit.

It just wasn’t.

“Where are you going?” Nathan shouted at his back.

Corrado didn’t even answer.

He just flipped his middle finger over his shoulder. There. Let the man make of that what he wanted because he was sure that he would. No doubt, he would quickly run it back to Cree or Dare, too, which meant Corrado would have to deal with that eventually.

He didn’t care.

Not right now.

This bad mood wouldn’t go away, accompanying him all week like a stink he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried. And he did try. The problem was, he knew exactly why he felt this way, and the fact that it all led back to Alessio being gone.

He didn’t like that.

None of it.

Corrado didn’t do emotional shit—he found it much easier to deal with life and other people when he kept a healthy distance from it all. Then, stupid things didn’t get brought in to play, too. You know, like someone’s feelings.

Climbing down from the roof, he could still hear Nathan bitching up above. Then, it turned to Nathan getting on the phone to shout at someone—probably Dare, but he didn’t care to listen and figure it out. It took him another twenty minutes before he was walking the corridor leading to his rooms.

Where he would be alone.

And irritated.

A great fucking combination.

The first thing he did once he was in his rooms was head straight for the connecting bathroom. It wasn’t big—hell, Alessio’s bathroom was bigger than his, and had a bathtub instead of a standing shower—but that’s all he needed. Stripping down to nothing, he stepped in under scalding hot water, letting it pink his skin as he attempted to scrub away his frustrations, and clear his mind.

It didn’t work.

Nothing worked anymore.

He needed quiet nights.

Conversations in darkness.

Fingertips keeping him awake when they glided over the ridges of his muscles because for some fucking reason, his body felt like a live wire whenever Alessio was near. A man who was nothing like him. And yet, he found familiarity in that same man, too.

He needed those things to get back to a good place, except he didn’t want to need those things at all. That was where he found his biggest frustration, and he didn’t know how to deal with it at all.