Chapter 6 #2
I choke. "The what now?" I act like I don’t even remember. "You know! You and Gio. Pretending. In front of Sophia. At the party. This Saturday. Ring a bell?"
I sit straight. "Party? What party? How do you even know about that?"
"She posted it on her story, dumbass."
"I don’t follow her anymore."
"Well, I do. For research purposes." He sends a screenshot. "Check your messages."
I open it and… oh, come on. The caption is: "See you in 48 hours… unless you’re too scared to show up."
This bitch. I am embarrassed. For her.
"The audacity," I hiss.
"Told you, man. Ew. Now, question is, do you wanna let her walk around like she’s queen of manipulative bitches, or do you wanna put on a show?"
"I don’t know, Noah… it feels weird. I’m not that guy," I mutter.
"Okay, picture this. Pay attention."
Oh god.
"Average-looking girl cheats on her hot boyfriend by sliding into some hot dude’s DMs. She thinks she’s gonna end up with both of them."
"Noah."
"And then, plot fucking twist! The two guys are making out at her party. Her face? Shattered. Her ego? Gone."
I turn beet red. "Stop."
"No, because it’s hot. You know it’s hot."
"Why is this your passion project?"
"Because I love you and I want revenge, and also, because Gio is objectively hot. I did a little stalking."
"Don’t—" I groan. "Don’t say that."
"Are you blushing?"
"Shut up."
"You’re totally blushing." I throw a pillow across the room and miss my lamp by an inch. "This is stupid."
"This is brilliant." Silence. He senses the shift, probably. Absolutely not. Not in this lifetime.
"Noah, if anyone finds out about this, literally anyone, they’re going to kill me. And Gio. I’m not even being dramatic. They will end us."
"Bro, that’s so sexy. You don’t get it. Just don’t let them find out."
Don’t let them find out. Christ, I’m going to throw up. My heart is sprinting. And yeah, fine, I admit it.
It would make her boil.
But kiss Gio?? Kiss Gio on the mouth??? Are we insane? I’m stressed just thinking about it. My palms are sweating. And let’s be real, he’s not even going to say yes. Absolutely not. Gio kisses like… I don’t know… elite criminals only? The chosen sinners?
People with status and confidence and no fear of death? I’m none of those things.
I’m a teacher-in-progress with anxiety and a soft voice. And I’ve never kissed a guy before. Ever.
Okay well, once. When I was eight, during a dare. But it was on the cheek. So it doesn’t count. I don’t know how to kiss men.
Is it different? Is it the same? Is it worse? Is it better?
"I don’t know," I mutter, pacing. "I don’t know and I don’t WANT to know, Noah." But my brain keeps replaying it anyway.
What if Gio laughs? What if he says no? What if he tells someone? But also… what if he doesn’t?
"...Fuck," I whisper.
"YES!" Noah screams. "IS THAT A YES? THAT WAS A YES."
"I didn’t say—"
"You said fuck, and in my language, that’s a YES. Oh my god, this is happening. I’m so proud. I’m actually emotional. I don’t even hate you right now."
"I haven’t even asked him yet."
"Then GO. NOW. You have two days."
"Now?" I squeak.
"Yes, NOW. Go. March your ass over there and pitch the sexiest plan of the year." He hangs up. I stare at my screen, still flushed. Then I slowly turn toward my window.
Light. His room. He’s awake.
My stomach flips. Not in a romantic way. In a panic-attack-pending way. Okay. Okay. I’m doing this. I’m actually doing this.
I pull on a hoodie.
Why? I don’t know, it’s still like 27 degrees outside, but my hands are cold. That’s what panic does to your circulation. I walk toward the door, stop, turn back. Then sit on my bed. Then stand up again.
This is stupid. This is so stupid. What if someone finds out? What if my dad hears about this somehow?
No. No, that’s not possible.
Still. It’s Gio.
What if I’m actually terrible at this? What if it’s obvious I’ve never done that? With a guy? Noah makes it sound so easy. But it’s not. What if I just freeze? Or worse, miss? God, what if I go in too fast and break his nose or something?
I sit back down and bury my face in my hands. It’s just a kiss. Just a kiss. Kisses are kisses. Doesn’t matter if it’s with a guy or a girl. It’s the same mechanics, right? Lips. Timing. Not drooling. Right? But what if I like it? No. That’s not possible.
He’s still Gio. Loud, cocky Gio who never shuts up.
Just because he was kind of close to me tonight, just because he looked at me a couple more seconds without swearing at me, that doesn’t mean anything. He’s the same.
Besides, it’s summer. That’s all this is. A weird summer with weird moments and weird choices. And when it’s over? I go back to studying all day.
He goes back to whatever it is he does. We don’t talk. We don’t run into each other.
I don’t have weird thoughts. This doesn’t have to be a big deal. Right? Right.
I’m standing outside his house again, like a pathetic loser. I shouldn’t be here. This is insane. But I’m already walking. Past the hedges. Again.
I pause at the door. I raise my hand and knock. For a second, nothing.
There. Footsteps. Then the door opens. Gio.
Hair a little messy. Shirt hanging loose like he doesn’t care, because of course he doesn’t. And for some reason, God help me, I notice the curve of his collarbone. I’m not supposed to notice that. I drop my eyes immediately. He smirks. I can hear it in his voice.
"Didn’t get enough of me the first time?"
I clear my throat, trying to sound normal. "I was just… bored. Thought I’d come back."
He raises an eyebrow, like he’s not buying a single word. Then he starts to close the door. "Yeah, no thanks."
Panic kicks in. Pure reflex, I reach out and stop the door with my hand.
"Wait—please."
His eyes flick down to my hand, then back up to my face. "Ah." He grins. "So you do want something."
I exhale, defeated. "I do."
That seems to throw him a little. His grin falters just for a moment. Then he steps back and lets the door swing open.
"Well then. Come in, Ravioli. Let’s hear it."
I step past him. The smell of his house. The way his presence fills the room.
He leads the way upstairs. His room looks exactly the same. Like him. I stand there, suddenly feeling like I’m literally on stage without knowing my lines. He turns to face me, one brow raised. "So? What’s the favor, Ravioli?"
Hell. I’m really about to do this.
No backing out now.
29) You Have To Kiss Me
Rava
I stand there like an idiot. My eyes are everywhere except on him. Gio is stretched out across the bed with his arms behind his head, his shirt slightly riding up, just enough to be annoying.
I hate that he always has the upper hand in these moments, even when I’m the one with the secret.
"So?" he says lazily, one eyebrow lifting. "You gonna confess something, or just keep standing there like you forgot your lines?"
I clench my jaw. "Shut up."
"Oh, okay. That clears it up." He sits up slightly, his smirk already forming. "Let me guess… you’re pregnant?"
My head snaps toward him. "What the hell?"
"I knew it," he says, laughing. "Should’ve used protection. Classic Rava mistake."
I glare. "I swear to God—"
"Okay, okay," he waves a hand, still grinning.
"I know. You got kicked out of your precious little pedagogy program. You finally snapped and told your dad to go f—"
"No."
"Then what is it?"
He leans forward, narrowing his eyes dramatically. "You need me to help you bury a body?"
I huff. "I’d trust an actual corpse more than you."
He leans back with a fake-wounded expression. "Wow. That almost hurt, sweetheart."
I roll my eyes. It would be easier to just walk out and never speak again. But I’m already here. I’m already this far in. And I hate that I need him.
Him, of all people. I have to find a way to tell him I want us to kiss. Indirectly. Because there is no universe where I would look Gio Fontana in the eyes and say, "Hey Gio, please kiss me. Thanks."
No. Absolutely not. I need a sneaky approach.
I look over my shoulder. "Sophia’s throwing a party." Good opener. Neutral. Non-kiss-threatening. Gio scoffs immediately.
"Oh, that’s the emergency? Let me guess, she’s planning a theme: ‘Queen of Passive Aggression’?"
I ignore the urge to smile. "It’s in two days."
"Good for her," he says, flopping back down.
I press my lips together. "It’s… at her house."
"Shocking." He reaches for the glass beside the bed and takes a long sip. "What, you need a plus one?"
That’s close. I actually need us to make out aggressively in front of her.
Oh God. Is it too late to back out? Yes? No?
Suddenly I don’t care if she gets jealous. Let her think I’m boring. I don’t care anymore.
"No. I…" I hesitate. My palms are actually sweaty. I’ve faced professors scarier than him. "I just think maybe there’s a way to… you know… make her feel bad too."
Gio raises an eyebrow without lifting his head. "What kind of way, exactly?"
My voice is tight. "Something to make her… jealous."
He looks amused. "Sounds like a personal problem."
I glare. "I’m asking you for help, asshole."
"You’ve got a weird way of asking. Try ‘please, Gio, you gorgeous bastard—’"
"Don’t make me regret this."
He takes another sip, eyes on mine, all playfulness. "Then don’t make me think this hard at night, sweetheart. Be clear."
I take a breath. Then another.
"You have to kiss me."
Gio chokes. He literally chokes on his drink, coughing and doubling over. My face is on fire.
I’m two seconds away from writing my will.
If he says yes? I’m done. If he says no? I’m also done. If he laughs? I will simply pass away. Any second now, he’s going to look up at me, and that moment will decide if I survive or if I start digging my own grave from embarrassment.
"Jesus—" he wheezes. "What?"
I stand perfectly still. Embarrassing.
When he finally recovers, he looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. Then he laughs.
"Rava," he says, wiping his mouth, "I think you walked into the wrong house."