Chapter 1 #4
Why does nobody ever tell him to shut up?! Why am I the only one suffering here?
"It’s Ravioli!" he says. "No fucking way."
I want to strangle him. His mother swallows hard, clearly tense. Gio, on the other hand, doesn’t seem fazed at all. He just gives me one last look and then drops into the empty chair across from me. My mom leans in, whispering, "Rava, please don’t make it a thing. Not now."
Oh, don’t worry. I won’t make it a thing now. I’ll just store it deep inside until it explodes later in a violent emotional meltdown. I stare anywhere but at him, the wall, the floor, a plant, the air, anything.
Suddenly it’s insanely hot in here. Heat-stroke hot.
I swear my anxiety is cooking me alive.
Either he leaves, or I do.
One of us has to go before I spontaneously combust.
Back home
I hold my phone to my ear, pacing around my room as I vent to Sophia.
"I'm telling you, Gio is insufferable. I want to leave already. Help me."
"Just don't talk to him. Seriously," she says, and instantly I feel like an idiot.
"...I am already not talking to him. I'm just stating facts. He's just insufferable. That's all."
Sophia's response is dry. "Mhm."
That little, dismissive, bored-ass mhm.
Great. Now I'm the annoying boyfriend again. The one who talks too much, complains too much, overshadows her, whatever.
No. Nope, that's not fair.
I'm not taking the blame for everything today.
I pause, frowning. "Are you even listening?"
"Yeah," she replies, just as flat.
I wait for more, but she gives me nothing. I sigh.
"Whatever. I'll let you go. I have... stuff to do."
"Cool, talk to you later." She hangs up before I can even say bye. Unbelievable.
It's like she pressed end call with the energy of, please shut up, you're exhausting me.
As if I didn't already have enough going on, now I have to stress about what I say, how I say it, when I say it, whether I'm too much, not enough, too dramatic, too quiet.
I stare at my screen for a second.
Truth? I have nothing to do.
Something's off with her. I'm sure of it.
I step outside onto the balcony. Daisy is curled up on the small couch near the plants, scrolling on her phone. Jin sits at the table nearby, eating an apple.
Daisy looks up as I sit beside her. "Wow. What's with the face?"
I exhale sharply.
"Guess who showed up at the meeting today?"
She doesn't even try. "Gio?"
I nod. "Yes?!"
Daisy and Jin exchange looks, then laugh. I narrow my eyes. "What's funny, you traitors?"
Jin smirks. "We already knew."
"And you didn't tell me because...?!"
Jin shrugs. "Don't ask me. I don't get it though. He's chill. We play basketball sometimes. In the afternoons. In secret, of course. 'Cause if dad knew, he would kill us both."
My jaw nearly drops. "You what?" Jin just nods, unbothered. "How the hell do you play with him?" I demand. "The guy is the worst! Made my life a living hell and you know it. You saw it!" Jin raises an eyebrow. "Oh, come on. He was just messing with you, dude. You still hate him that much?"
"Of course I do?! Why would I stop?"
"I don't know... maybe because you're not eight anymore?"
I scoff. "Remember when I was ten, I asked to ride his stupid little bike, and he goes, 'Of course!
Just leave me a deposit first.' I was like, 'Deposit?
What deposit?' And he dead-ass tells me I have to give him my new sneakers as collateral.
He made it a whole joke. 'Gotta protect my investment!
' And when I refused, he just shrugged and said, 'Guess you don't want it that bad'. "
Daisy rolls her eyes. "Yeah. That was over a decade ago."
"Oh, there's more. We were at this huge outdoor event, and I lose my way back to our group.
Gio, being so helpful, tells me there's a shortcut behind this tent.
So I go. Turns out? It's the staff-only area.
I walk right into the middle of workers on their break, and everyone just stares at me like I'm trespassing.
Security had to escort me out! Do you understand?
And Gio? He was watching the whole time, dying laughing. "
"Get over it, Rava! Y'all were kids!"
"Hell no," I snap. "I'm never letting that go. I'm also never letting go of the fact that he kept calling me Ravioli instead of Rava, and everyone would follow, just because the cool guy said it."
She sighs. "Well, you might have to. Especially now that you're neighbors, too."
I freeze. "What?"
She nods toward the house across from us. "Look."
I turn. Gio sits on his motorcycle, two other guys beside him, all ready to leave. He adjusts his helmet, but then he sees me.
Our eyes meet for a second.
He winks at me, and then starts his bike.
I turn back to Daisy and Jin, still processing. "Are you kidding me? First the meeting, now this? What's next, he's gonna start having dinner with us too?"
Jin hums, tapping his fingers against the table. "Yeah, over dad's dead body. It would be cool though. He's got humor. And honestly, impressive biceps."
I glare at him. "What is wrong with you?"
Jin just grins. "Nothing. But it's funny how worked up you get over him."
"I hate you for this."
Jin sips his drink, completely unfazed.
"Mhm. Sounds like you've got a Gio problem, not a me problem."
4) Me And Lulu
Gio
Red light. Forearm on the throttle.
My spine is still screaming from the race, which, let's be real, wasn't even a fucking race.
It was me stretching my legs while the rest of them choked on my dust. One by one. Like fucking worshippers.
I crack my neck and lean back a bit. Swear to God, if I keep riding like this, my spine's gonna bury me before the cops or my enemies do.
Speaking of death…
Can you die from an orgasm?
Like… heart attack mid-nut?
Because that's the only type of death I'm actually down for.
When they say riding will be the death of me, I just laugh. Because yeah, obviously, we already knew. The only mystery left is whether I’ll be gripping handlebars… or someone’s hips.
Both require balance.
Both feel better the faster you go.
And don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to die. I’m just not exactly afraid of the concept if it’s gonna be… memorable.
Like imagine dying mid-thrust. Not even mad. Just mildly impressed.
People cry at funerals.
Mine would be awkward as hell.
Everyone pretending not to know. Everyone knowing.
I kept thinking about it during today's meeting, trying to keep myself awake.
Seriously, how the fuck do these people live. I'd rather die on the highway than rot in one of those conference rooms. My Ducati is the only reason my heart still beats the way it does.
People hate it. Some say I'm an asshole. That one day I'm gonna crash and they'll laugh at my funeral.
But let's be real, those people have never seen me ride. Never heard the sound she makes when I push her past 180.
Never watched jaws drop when I lean into a corner.
If this bike drops anything, it's not my body.
It's panties. Boxers.
It's every goddamn jaw in a five-mile radius.
Half the time, they don't even care about the bike. They just wanna ride me. Can't even blame them. If I wasn't me, I'd wanna fuck me too.
And they're not even subtle about it. Straight up, "That was a hot ride. Can I bounce on that dick next?"
Like??? Damn, at least buy me a snack first.
Okay, I'm joking. Kinda.
I'm not a whore. Shocking, I know. They think I’m a whore.
But I can't fuck randoms. I hate it.
And not in some moral high-ground type of way. It's just pointless.
Why? 'Cause they didn't fucking earn it. Simple as that.
I could fuck whoever I want. Literally.
But do they deserve me? Hell no.
Sure, I love sex.
But I only do it with people who hit at least an 8.5 out of 10. Mentally. Physically. They gotta have... something. A brain. A reason. Call me a prude if you want.
But this dick? Not for just anyone.
And I don't even hide it. I say it with my whole chest. It's not an L. It's a flex.
I've got the option, and I choose not to.
That doesn't make me pathetic.
That makes me a fucking legend.
I pull up outside my place, kill the engine. Do I regret coming back from Spain? Fuck no. I've got my own house now. My name on the goddamn lease.
And I'm thriving. Of course, people run their mouths about it. Say I don't take life seriously. That I switch countries and homes like underwear. Like stability's some badge of honor.
I say they're just bitter 'cause they're stuck. And I'm not.
I built this whole-ass house from scratch, right next door to Charles fucking Weston.
Yeah. That Charles. Daddy Dearest.
Biggest hater on the block.
Now he gets to see me every damn day. Gets to watch me park this red beast of a bike right outside his prim little porch. I swear, sometimes I rev the engine on purpose. Just a little good morning gift.
Rise and shine, old man. Start your day with the sound of me winning. I know he fucking loves it.
Fucker.
I lock the bike, swing my leg over, toss my helmet under one arm. I step inside.
The place is quiet, just the way I like it. No fake pleasantries, no one hovering with expectations. Just me.
Well, me and Lulu.
She trots over, moving her long tail. The only creature in this world that has my whole heart. This tiny ball of fluff trotting up to me. My cat.
"Hey, princess," I murmur, scooping her up. She purrs instantly, rubbing her face against my chin. "You missed me, huh? Of course you did. Who else treats you like a queen around here?" I press a kiss to her soft head.
I head for the bathroom. Of course she follows. Start peeling clothes off one by one.
Fuck it. I've got all day to myself till tonight. I'm filling this damn tub and melting into it like I deserve. Because I do. Flex in the mirror while the water rises.
Goddamn. Why the fuck do I look this good naked?
Like, it's almost criminal. High-key offensive.
I turn to Lulu, my biggest fan. Pick her up again, cradle her soft little body.