Elliot ditched his jock reputation after high school. He happily traded his cleats and shoulder pads for college cafeteria food and seminars notes. Now, without the distraction of football, he has managed to find success at the University of Minneso...
ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
There were a few lawn parties and rummage sales dotted throughout the neighborhood, but Pierce past all of them. The sun was just beginning to dip into the distant landscape as he squeezed Elliot's hand and led him down the sidewalk. He cut through somebody's yard, careful to avoid a recently-planted vegetable garden. Then hopped across some hand-made stepping stones, over stray pieces of trash, and dodged some overgrown dandelions until he came to a highway guardrail. Pierce climbed over it and walked through a brush. Elliot followed him with elongated intrigue.
"Where're we going?"
"Somewhere new," Pierce replied.
They walked alongside a thicket of trees until their path turned into gravel. The breeze was soft, but wispy enough to dishevel Elliot's hair. He pushed it out of his eyes to watch where he stepped. By the time he had looked up again, a row of garages had appeared to his left. They had entered a quiet backstreet.
Pierce read a sign on a utility pole and veered toward a garbage can. Elliot almost tripped over the cracked pavement as he tried to keep his pace. Pierce never let go of his hand, though, not even as he lifted one arm over a fence gate to unlocked a ring latch.
Elliot scanned his surroundings. "Are we allowed to be here?"
