Chapter 7 #6
"Fuck private! He was drunk off his ass. Just tell me if he said something about me. Just that. He doesn't even know you."
"And still talked to me, not to you."
I punch him in the arm hard. "You're such a dick."
He laughs, wincing. "God, you're jealous and violent. No wonder you're single."
I roll my eyes and flop back down. We sit there for like ten minutes, me trying to drag it out of him.
Nothing. He actually holds his ground.
Doesn't tell me a single word. I give up eventually, realizing he really isn't going to crack.
Wow.
Defending a stranger over your favorite cousin? Fake-ass.
It's kind of sweet, though.
Rava would be happy to have a friend like Lorenzo. I actually believe that.
…
I lock the bike and get into my house. Helmet drops on the counter, keys on the floor, jacket somewhere in the hallway.
Who's gonna yell at me anyway?
I live alone.
I don't even bother turning the lights on properly, just one lamp in the corner. I walk two steps into the living room and my knees just give out.
I drop on the floor, flat on my back. For a second I just stare at the ceiling and try not to scream. Tiny paws patter against the tiles.
"Here we go," I mutter.
Lulu appears out of nowhere and comes straight for my chest. She climbs on me, spins once, and then just flops down.
I put a hand over my face. "Why is he starting to grow on me, Lulu?" I mumble into my palm.
"Explain that. Since you're the big genius around here."
She purrs louder. I move my hand, stare at the ceiling again. "This is bad," I tell her. "This is really fucking bad."
"I might like him. I might actually fucking like him, Lulu."
The word tastes so wrong in my mouth.
I slam the back of my head lightly on the floor. "Fuck."
Lulu lifts her head, offended by the movement.
I scratch behind her ear in apology.
I can't do this.
I'm not allowed to like him like that.
Of all people.
Of all the fuckers in this city, it had to be him?
A couple of tears slide out before I can even decide if I'm crying or not. They run into my hairline.
This is humiliating.
I rub my face with both hands, then drop them to the floor.
That's it.
I'm desperate.
I don't have a choice here. I can't get attached to someone who's leaving at the end of summer.
He's not staying. He's not mine. He's a fucking tourist.
He does his little Italian drama arc, learns something about himself, goes back to Canada, becomes a teacher, lives his good boy life.
That's the script. I'm the one who stays in the same streets. With the same shit. That's my part.
I grit my teeth. And even if he didn't leave, even if, I don't know, he magically stayed… what then?
We can't be together.
Not out loud. Not the way he deserves.
I'm a fucking street rat with a record and a bike, while he wants to teach kids.
Little kids. He wants this soft, safe life where parents trust him and nobody looks at him twice in the staff room.
Who's gonna trust the sweet little teacher who shows up with me on his arm?
I'm not ruining his career because I don't know how to control my dick and my feelings. I'm not doing that to him. I am not that selfish.
Lulu headbutts my chin. My eyes sting harder. I can't give him hope. I won't let him think this could actually work.
That'd be cruel. I swallow hard.
I'll do what I have to do.
I'll try to step back. A bit.
Keep it light. Keep it jokes and summer shit, nothing deeper. Or I don't know. Maybe I just pull away altogether. That thought hits like a punch.
Pulling away means no late-night rides.
No fake kisses.
No real kisses.
No hand on his thumb when he panics.
No watching him get brave in front of people who hurt him. Christ. This is fucking killing me.
Another tear slips out. I wipe it away angrily. However much I like him, I've got to choke this thing out before it chokes me.
Or him.
I can't fall for him more than I already have.
I just can't. I won't let myself. I know how this story ends.
It's either him shattered or me shattered or both.
And he already had enough shit. I'll do whatever it takes.
Joke more.
Touch less.
Make him think I don't take any of this seriously.
Push him a little away if I have to.
Let him walk back to his perfect, safe life thinking this was just a crazy summer.
I'll deal with it. I always do.
But he… he's not allowed to leave here broken because of me. I shut my eyes.
For a second I imagine a different universe where I don't have to let go. Where he stays. Where no one cares.
It hurts worse than reality.
No falling in love, Fontana. Not with him. Not all the way. Don't you fucking dare.
41) Spain Is Waiting
Rava
I'm dying. What is this.
I feel like a shaved raisin that's been left out in the sun all day to dry.
I'm going to cry.
And I have a meeting in forty minutes. In forty minutes I'm supposed to transform back into a functioning human being.
I drag myself up and rub my eyes over and over.
I'm definitely going to have to google again "how to cure a hangover fast. "I turn around and see Daisy at the edge of my room, also sitting there like a corpse.
A laugh slips out of me.
She still has blue hair. She looks like a drunk Smurf. "Jesus," she mumbles. "Are we alive?"
"Debatable," I say.
I stumble into the bathroom. No time for hot water, so I shut up and deal with it. Cold shower it is.
I'm gonna wash myself like a man.
…
I survive. Somehow.
I get out, brush my teeth, then I sprint back into my room to get dressed. I grab a white shirt and start buttoning it up way too fast.
Daisy sits up, hair an absolute war zone. "You look like shit."
"Thank you. So do you."
"I know," she grins. Then she staggers over to the window, still in yesterday's clothes.
"Do you think they'd cancel the meeting if you collapsed dramatically in front of the venue?"
I laugh while I'm cleaning the lenses of my glasses.
"They wouldn't cancel it," I say. "They'd step over my dead body to get to the room, and maybe even kick me out of the way so I don't block the door."
"My poor baby," Daisy says.
Yeah. Your poor baby is corporate roadkill.
I hear her voice shift. "Holy shit."
I turn. She's glued to the window, palm flat right on the glass, like we're in a drama series.
"Oh my God," she says. "Who. Is. That."
"What?"
She turns to me, pointing to Gio's house.
"There. That guy. Dark hair. Shirtless. Literally carved from stone. Like, Greek statue energy. Who the hell is that?"
I step closer to look.
Oh. Of course. Obviously that Lorenzo guy is still here.
He's in Gio's room, shirtless, talking passionately.
Talking.
It hits me like a slap.
Oh my God.
What if they're talking about last night?
Lord, I want to pull my hair out, strand by strand.
Actually, no, not pull. RIP.
I embarrassed myself so badly.
That cursed wine.
That wine I thought was my friend. I trusted it. And in the end it turned around and shot me straight in the forehead in front of EVERYONE.
I want to crawl into a crack in the wall and die.
I mutter, "That's Gio's cousin."
Daisy spins toward me, stunned. "THAT is the cousin?! You didn't say he was a sex god."
"Yeah. Sorry. Must've slipped my mind."
She fans herself dramatically. "Rava. I'm making a move. I don't care if he speaks another language or where he came from. I will Google Translate my way into his lap if I have to."
I groan. "He's Italian, you idiot. So please don't."
"Oh, I so will. This is fate."
I go back to getting dressed. I'm going to start screaming.
Leave, Lorenzo. Please.
You did your part, thank you so much, now get the hell out of Gio's house before I dissolve into dust from humiliation.
I can't handle this.
This is one more reason to bury every single feeling I have for Gio six feet under and then build a church on top of it.
There is no way I can ever be normal around that cousin of his again. Not after he knows I had a whole embarrassing drunken fantasy where his cousin was riding me.
It's humiliating. Biblical-level humiliation.
And the worst part?
I truly believed I wouldn't have to see him again.
But no. Of course not. He's right fucking there.
Probably laughing about it.
Probably told Gio everything already.
God. And imagine, after all this, him hearing that I just want to grow up and be a humble little elementary school teacher.
A wholesome educator. After everything he overheard last night? Yeah.
Very on-brand for me.
"Hi, I want to teach children their ABCs, also please ignore the part where I drunkenly confessed I want your cousin to fuck me stupid."
Yeah, sounds great.
I tighten my tie, trying not to choke myself with it, then grab my shoes.
"Where are you going?" Daisy asks.
"To the car. To go throw myself under it."
She laughs. I don't.
I head out the door. Let's pretend I'm functional.
My parents already left without me, so I drive my hungover ass to the meeting alone.
Honestly? Better. I can insult the entire existence of meeting people without anyone telling me to shut up and be kind.
Maybe after the meeting I'll go for a walk.
Alone.
Far, far away from all this madness and the two Italian men currently haunting my soul.
I park, drag myself out of the car, and head inside.
Everything looks exactly the same as I left it, shiny to the bone and aggressively quiet.
I walk into the meeting room. Everyone's in there, but no one's sat down yet. I see my dad. I walk right past him. I go to my mom.
Everyone is smiling. Like, way too much. Big smiles. Creepy smiles. And it terrifies me.
Did they hear about my humiliation, too?
At this point, anything is possible.
"Sweetheart, finally. You look so pale—are you sick?" my mom asks.
"Just... hangover. What's going on?" I ask, squinting through the light. "Why's everyone so excited?"
She beams. "We might have a new strategic partner joining the expansion. If all goes well today, it could mean a major breakthrough for both families."
"Okay..." I clear my throat. "And that means...?"
Her hand lands on my arm like she's giving me good news.