Chapter 6 #5
And then I come here and I shove my tongue down his throat.
My father would actually bury me alive. I cover my face with my hands.
I’m awful. I’m literally the worst son on earth.
He opens the door for me, leaning on the frame. "See you tomorrow... partner."
I don’t say anything. I just nod awkwardly.
And I leave his house absolutely dying inside.
31) In Your Dreams
Gio
The ball bounces loudly on the ground.
Jin runs toward me, sweating and breathing hard. "Come on, Gio!" he yells, clearly frustrated. "Aren’t you embarrassed to never let a sixteen-year-old win?"
I laugh, dribbling the ball casually. "Embarrassed? Nah. I’m helping you get tougher, kid."
"Jerk," Jin mumbles, lunging again.
I fake left, move right quickly, and toss the ball with ease. It goes straight through the hoop. "Ha," I say with a grin.
Jin groans loudly, kicking at the ground.
God, I fucking love this family.
Not in the wholesome way.
In the ‘they get pissed so easily it’s entertaining’ way.
There’s something deeply healing in watching a Weston go from calm to murder mode in half a second.
"You’re too much," he complains. "Isn’t your ego big enough yet?"
I shrug, picking up the ball again. "Not yet."
Little angry Weston goblin number two.
Rava’s the first one, obviously. He’s like a premium edition goblin. Limited release.
He’s determined, but way too easy to predict.
Another fake, another spin, and he stumbles, leaving me free to shoot. The ball goes in smoothly again.
I fucking love this. "Showoff, I’m never playing again," Jin mutters, bent over and panting.
Their whole family has this baseline level of irritation that just soothes my soul. Every time they get annoyed, a part of me that died in childhood comes back to life. It’s poetic.
"You’ll thank me someday," I tell him, setting the ball aside and walking toward my bike. "If you can’t handle me, real jerks will eat you alive."
He rolls his eyes but follows, stopping hopefully by the motorcycle. "Can I ride back with you?" he asks.
I scoff, grabbing my helmet. "Kid, your dad would probably make me break my own bones if he saw that."
Well. If only the old man knew.
Jesus Christ. If only he knew what I was doing yesterday with his other son. Who the hell am I even? Today I’m out here playing casual basketball with one Weston boy, and last night I had the other Weston boy in my room, basically begging me to make out with him.
Okay, fine, he didn’t beg.
Not out loud. But he needed me. And that shoots my ego into outer fucking space. Too bad it’s top-secret. Would’ve been iconic to brag about.
Jin kicks a pebble at me. "Come on, Gio, I’m not a baby—"
"Nope." I spin the ball on my finger. "I’m not putting you on my bike. I’m not dying today."
Not when life is finally getting interesting.
He groans dramatically and walks off to grab the ball.
I smirk. One Weston on my bike would kill me.
The other Weston in front of my face last night? That almost killed me too. But in a much more enjoyable way.
What can I do? I’m a man. I liked our kiss. I’m not gonna lie to myself.
Or to my dick. At least I admit I like men.
I don’t make it a crisis every time a guy looks attractive. My body doesn’t just sit there like, "Wait, is this the correct gender? Let me check my internal rulebook."
Nah. If it feels good, it feels good. End of story.
And that kiss? Yeah. My body had opinions. Strong ones.
My dick especially. He practically wrote a sonnet about it.
A kiss is a kiss. Jesus Christ. Of course I liked it.
I fucking loved it.
Jin’s face falls and he shoves his hands in his pockets, clearly disappointed. I get on the bike, then glance across the street.
Oh?
Rava. I spot him by the side of the road, half-shaded under that crooked olive tree like he’s trying to blend into the damn landscape.
Poor thing’s hilarious without even trying. He sees me and immediately whips his head the other way. Now he’s glued to his phone, tapping absolutely nothing on the screen, pretending I don’t exist.
Adorable.
He’s dressed well today. But I can’t tell if that’s his normal, or if he’s going somewhere, or if he accidentally dressed nice and now regrets it because I’m here.
Wouldn’t blame him.
"Maybe next time," I say to Jin, more distracted now, kicking the engine to life.
"Yeah, sure…" He sighs heavily, then leaves.
I roll the bike straight toward Rava and stop without killing the engine. This dumbass is still pretending he doesn’t see me.
Unreal. Still playing Mister Mystery.
Be fucking serious. You could suck on my lip ring just fine.
But now you can’t look up?
Sure. Makes sense.
I rest one hand on the throttle, keep the engine rumbling, and stare him down blatantly.
You’re gonna look at me today. Whether you want to or not. Whether you’re ready or not. He can pretend all he wants. I grab the hem of my shirt and wipe the sweat off my forehead, lifting it just enough to feel the air hit my abs.
I know he saw it. He definitely saw it.
"Are you serious right now?" he mutters without looking.
I blink innocently. "What?"
"You’re literally showing off your abs."
I chuckle, surprised, genuinely. "Oh? So now you can look at me?" I smirk. "Funny, because when I talk, you just stare at the ground."
He tries to walk past me, probably hoping I’ll just let him go.
Obviously, I don’t. I’m not gonna leave him alone now that I know what his mouth tastes like.
I rev the engine once, then ride in small circles around him like a damn hawk. His head follows me every time I pass.
I pass behind him, lean a little, and flick my hand out just enough to gently smack his ass. A quick tap. Barely anything.
He turns with this scandalized, betrayed expression like I just stole his innocence.
I stop the bike, throw my hands in the air dramatically.
"Swear to God," I say, "you had dust on you. Cement or some shit."
He narrows his eyes at me, full suspicion, and then he does a little self-pat-down like I’m lying and he’s about to press charges.
"...Thanks."
I cup my ear. "What was that? Didn’t hear you."
He snaps his head up. "I said THANK YOU, asshole."
I grin. "Much better." God, he’s fun to bother.
"You always do this?" I shout over the sound. "Storm off dramatically just ’cause you got kissed?"
He clenches his jaw. Doesn’t respond. "Come on, Rava," I grin, leaning on the handlebars as I pass by again.
"It’s not like I’m gonna bite. Unless you want me to."
He shoots me a death glare. I almost die laughing.
"Where are you even going?" he finally snaps. I slow down, make one last loop, then pull up in front of him.
"Picking up a friend from the station," I say, casual as hell. "Station?"
"Yeah. They took him in last night."
"For what?"
"He headbutted some asshole at a club. The dude was being gross with a girl. My guy stepped in, and, well… now I gotta play Uber from jail."
Rava lifts a brow. "Classic day for you street rats."
Street rats. That’s what he calls us. I lean back on my bike.
"Street rats, huh?"
He looks away like he’s innocent.
I push off the bike and walk toward him. "You played poker with me." I tilt my head. "And you won."
He swallows.
I take one more step.
"Then you hopped on this bike," I remind him, "while we were being chased by the police."
His eyes flicker. I smirk. God, he’s easy to ruin.
"And while we were running for our lives?" I lean in just a little. "You covered my license plate with your damn hand."
My voice drops. "Which innocent little angel does that?"
He swallows again, nervous. I get even closer.
"You’re a lot less pure than you think you are, Ravioli."
I wink. "And that’s not a bad thing. Anyway. Where are you going?"
He crosses his arms. "I’m waiting for Dario and Carla."
I blink. "Those two still exist?"
He gives me the flattest look imaginable.
I grin wider. "What, you three gonna sit in a circle and talk about your feelings over iced tea? Damn, Rava, you know how to live."
"At least we don’t spend our time dodging cops or selling coke to undergrads," he snaps.
Oof.
Right in the lifestyle.
"You done judging, Ravioli, or do you want a ride to church next?"
He doesn’t answer. He clears his throat.
"They’re waiting for me. I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll text you before I come to your place for Sophia’s thing."
I nod once, leaning back against the bike.
"Yeah, yeah." I wave him off lazily.
"Go enjoy your little butter-walk."
He freezes. "...My what?"
I shrug.
He rolls his eyes so hard I swear he almost pulls a muscle.
"Bye, Gio."
"Later."
I rev the engine just once as he turns, to watch him flinch.
Worth it.
32) Sure, baby
Rava
Next Day
I stand by the wall with my arms crossed, regretting every second of thinking that Noah’s idea was actually good.
Gio is getting dressed.
That’s a lie.
He’s pretending to get dressed. In reality, he’s shirtless again, flexing his body every two seconds.
Chest. Arms. Back. Veins. Tattoo on tattoo on tattoo.
Okay, we get it.
You’re built like a Greek god and your biceps have their own zip code. Enough. He shoots me this slow smirk over his shoulder.
"Come on, Ravioli. Admit it. You wanna touch it."
I look at him like he slaps me. "Why would I want to touch it?!" I snap. "I had a girlfriend like… a couple of days ago."
Gio laughs. "Aha. There it is." He points at me. "So you are seeing this as something sexual."
I literally turn away so I don’t throw something at him. God, I hate when people try to outsmart me. Hate it. Hate it even more when they succeed.
He keeps going.
"You know, I’ve got straight friends at the gym."
He’s digging through drawers now, still shirtless.
"They’re super chilled about touching. Spotting each other, checking form, grabbing arms, whatever. They don’t freak out. They know touching me doesn’t mean they want me."
I clench my jaw. He pauses. Looks at me from head to toe. "You, on the other hand…"
I whip around. "Cut it."