Chapter 7 #12
Like I imagined it all. Like I made him up.
Maybe I did. Maybe this whole thing is in my head.
Just summer heat and hormones and too much wanting. And even if it wasn’t, it can’t go anywhere.
When this summer ends, Gio disappears. That was always the deal, spoken or not.
And even if I wanted more, even if I thought there could be more… no.
I know what my father thinks of him.
And he’s not wrong.
Gio is crazy. Gio is risk. Chaos. Trouble. Definitely trouble.
The kind of person who takes you down with him when he burns out.
…
The bathroom door creaks open. Steam spills into the room.
"You can come in," Gio says.
I hesitate. Then I get up and step into the heat.
It’s like walking into his skin, his scent. The mirror’s fogged. He’s leaning against the sink, towel riding low on his hips, beads of water still sliding down his chest.
His hair’s dripping, clinging to his forehead.
Heavy-lidded eyes.
He’s doing it again.
He looks at me like he’s already undressed me in his head, like he’s daring me to say something. I can’t look away.
I pull my shirt over my head, slowly.
My skin’s too hot and I haven’t even touched the water yet. I fold it and set it aside, hyper-aware of every inch of me he might be watching. He doesn’t move.
"You done?" I ask, not quite meeting his eyes.
His mouth twitches. That damn smirk.
He spreads his arms out like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "Standing right here, aren’t I?"
"Yeah, and I’m trying to shower," I snap.
"So shower, Rava."
"Not with you watching me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like that," I hiss. "Just go."
He chuckles. He pushes off the sink and walks past me slow, dragging the heat with him. As he brushes by, his shoulder grazes mine on purpose.
He leans in close enough to make my skin prickle. "Try not to moan too loud," he whispers. And then he’s gone.
I’m left alone in the steam.
Twenty Minutes Later
We brush our teeth without looking at each other, on purpose. I stare at literally anything else, mostly the corner of the ceiling, because for some reason he’s still half naked.
That alone should be illegal. The fact that he’s acting like it’s normal is even worse.
Walking around the bathroom with just a towel on like it’s his house.
That’s not confidence, that’s spiritual audacity.
He spits, rinses his mouth, wipes his face, and heads for the door. I stay there a bit longer, putting on my face cream. Then I step out of the bathroom. He’s lying on his back now, wearing a black sleeveless shirt, in bed.
His grey shorts ride low on his hips, one knee bent. His eyes are on the ceiling, not on me. He doesn’t even glance my way.
Great.
I dry off, slip into a clean tee and boxers, then just stand there like an idiot, staring at the bed like it’s a trap.
I clear my throat. "So… I guess we’re both sleeping here."
He shrugs. "I’m not kicking you to the floor."
I hesitate. "There’s not much room."
He finally looks at me. "I’m not gonna eat you, Rava."
I roll my eyes and walk over, slowly. The space next to him looks way smaller up close.
I sit on the edge first, feeling awkward as hell. Then I lie down stiffly, as close to the edge as possible, like touching him might set something off.
The air between us is thick.
We still haven’t talked about earlier, about him dragging me out of the club, about how I let him.
I almost say something. My mouth opens, then I shut it again. Instead, I turn to the side, my back to him. A second later I hear the sheets shift.
He turns too, same direction. Now we’re facing the same way, barely inches apart, not touching, but every breath feels like it might crash into his.
My heart’s beating way too fast.
I swallow. "Good night," I whisper.
He doesn’t say anything. He just yanks the sheet tighter to his side. I blink into the dark.
Seriously?
I clench my jaw and tug the sheet back, petty and pissed off.
Screw him.
A few minutes pass. I try to breathe normal, try to sleep. Then I feel a push from behind.
Subtle, but there. His knee, or his hip, something.
I shift forward, trying not to fall off the bed. Then he does it again.
I snap. "For fuck’s sake," I hiss, rolling onto my back. "Are you serious right now?"
He doesn’t move.
"Why do you hate me so much?" I ask.
That gets him. He turns slowly. Silence.
"Why do you hate me so much?" I ask again. I’m tired. I’m done pretending I don’t fucking feel it, every look, every silence, every time he pulls away like I’ve burned him.
Gio turns toward me. "I don’t hate you."
"You sure about that, Gio?"
He doesn’t answer right away, just stares.
"Maybe I do. Maybe I should."
It hits too hard. I sit up. "Why?"
No answer. "I thought…" My voice cracks.
I swallow it down. "I thought we were doing better lately. I thought you didn’t—" I pause. "I thought you didn’t mind me."
He shrugs like it’s nothing. "That was probably just in your head."
It’s like a slap. "You’re fucking crazy," I say. "You really think I imagined all of it?"
He just looks at me. I laugh and exhale hard. "Okay. Listen."
He lifts an eyebrow. "Here we go."
"No, seriously." I point at him. "We need to stop acting like toddlers. This tension is driving me insane."
He snorts. "You started it."
"Oh my God, shut up." I take a breath before I scream. "Look, if we don’t want this to keep getting worse, there’s one simple solution."
He stares at me, ready to mock me.
Whatever. I’m committed now.
"One kiss," I say. "Just one. Fast. No overthinking. No drama. We get it out of our system. Boom. Done."
His mouth parts, confused as hell. "That’s your plan?"
"Yes, Gio. That is my plan," I fire back. "Because clearly avoiding it makes it ten times worse."
My voice softens. "A quick kiss could clear the fog."
He huffs a weak laugh, shaking his head. "You’re actually unbelievable, Rava."
"I’m practical," I correct, jabbing him with my foot. "And hey, if we handle it like adults, it doesn’t have to turn into a big emotional meltdown." I nudge his knee. "One simple kiss might be enough to ground both of us."
He looks at me for a second, then nods once. "So. One kiss. Just that."
"One," I confirm.
"No extra," he says.
"Zero extra."
"No leaning in for round two."
"Gio," I warn, "obviously no leaning in for round two. Jesus."
He grins.
I roll my eyes. "This is exactly why we need to get it over with."
He inches forward on the mattress. "So we’re really doing this?" he murmurs.
"Yes," I say, trying not to choke on the word. "We kiss once. The tension dies. We go back to normal. We’ll be fine."
He nods again. "Okay, one kiss. Then it’s over."
My pulse spikes, but I keep my face flat. "Exactly. Simple. No problems. See?"
We keep staring at each other.
Then Gio shifts and moves closer, and then closer.
"Ay," I accidentally say before I can stop myself.
His eyebrows lift. "What? Does it bother you that I’m close? We are literally about to kiss. What did you expect?"
I nod and sit up straighter, trying to act normal even though I know that nothing about this moment is normal.
"Okay," I say, tapping my thigh in a pathetic attempt to stay calm. "It’s just a tiny kiss. Two seconds. It’s basically a reset button."
"Mhm," he hums, eyes glued on my mouth.
"It’s not deep," I add. "It’s not romantic. It’s just a practical solution to stop us from acting like five-year-olds."
"Totally practical," Gio repeats, still looking.
I ignore him. "We kiss for two seconds," I say, holding up two fingers. "Two. Then we breathe, we relax, and all this tension finally shuts up."
He nods slowly. "Sounds easy."
"Of course it’s easy, we’re adults."
"Sure," he says, leaning forward so subtly it’s almost rude. "So do I do it? Do I kiss you?"
My heart stops, then comes back with a vengeance.
"No," I say instantly. Probably too instantly. "I’ll do it. It’s my idea." I scoot closer. "Just a small kiss," I say.
"Two seconds. Max."
He nods once.
Okay. It’s just a kiss. A tiny kiss. I lean in carefully. Do I… remember how to kiss? Of course I remember. Probably. I mean… how hard can it be? People do it every day.
"Okay, wait," I mumble. "Do you mind closing your eyes?"
Gio’s mouth curls into the tiniest smirk.
"Why?"
"Because you’re looking at me and I’m getting stressed."
He actually laughs under his breath. "Alright," he murmurs, and slowly, he does close his eyes.
I lean in carefully.
My lips brush his, a little, enough to feel the cold metal of his lip ring. Then I actually kiss him, slowly.
My hand touches his neck accidentally.
Shit. I yank it back. We stare at each other, wide-eyed.
He licks his lips, dragging his tongue over the spot my mouth was.
"So…" I manage. "Do you feel any different?"
He doesn’t answer.
I laugh awkwardly. "Because I feel like… okay, maybe a little calmer? I think it worked. Now we’ll definitely be cal—"
He cuts me off by stealing another kiss, right on the same spot.
Oh my God. I freeze.
My brain shuts down.
He pulls back half an inch, watching me, daring me to do something about it.
And then it hits both of us at the same time.
We crash into each other.
45) Choke Harder
Gio
Fuck it.
Fuck him and his two seconds. I don't even wait. I don't want to wait.
I've been good. I've been so good. But I'm not fucking holy.
And he's not helping. I grab him, fist in his hair, and slam my mouth into his.
And the way he kisses me back? Yeah. That motherfucker's been pretending too.
There's no fucking build-up, no warning.
Finally, I get to shut him up the only way I know how. It's like my body's been waiting years for this exact second.
Now I'm actually kissing the ridiculous, perfect, infuriating mouth of Rava Weston.
Not for Sophia, not for anyone. This kiss belongs to us.
And it's not just a gentle kiss, fuck no. It's a very rough one. Full of desperation and desire.
He makes a needy noise and grabs at me like he's trying to tear me apart. His fingernails dig into my sides.
I don't care. I want it. So badly.
I shove him down, crawl over him like a fucking animal. My thigh slots between his legs and he grinds up.
Our mouths still locked, fighting more than kissing.
Fuck. Fuck, I can't breathe, but I don't stop.
He tastes like something forbidden, and I want more. I want all of him.
I bite his bottom lip and he gasps, and I lose my fucking mind.
I grind down. His hips jerk up.
We're hard. Both of us.
This is too much, yet not fucking enough.
He yanks my shirt, and his fingers claw under it like he needs skin fast. He pulls back for a second.
We just stare at each other. There's terror there.
In his eyes, in mine.
We both know what this means. What it could cost. How fast it could all blow up in our faces.
But there's something else too.
Want.
"We really shouldn't..." he starts. "I know," I say.
But then I kiss him again. Because yeah, they might kill us if they find out.
Yeah, this might ruin everything.
But right now? Our desire is bigger than our fear.
I grab his jaw, tilt his head, kiss him harder. Sloppier. I don't care what this means. I don't care what happens next. I just want him.
I fucking need him. Right now. Right here.
Fuck the consequences. Let them burn.
I break the kiss, panting, forehead to his.
He's wrecked already. His lips are red. He looks at me like he doesn't know whether to hit me or kiss me again. So I kiss him again. Harder.
Because this is happening.
Because I don't care if it ruins everything.
Because I want him more than I've ever wanted anything in my fucking life. And I'm not stopping. Not now. Not ever.
He pulls my hair. I groan. It hurts. I want more. "You want me," I whisper.
"No."
"Liar." I suck a bruise into his neck. He gasps. Arching. I'm obsessed. Sick with it. I want him. He's so hard.
I smile against his skin. "You hate me, huh?"
"So much," he whispers.
I press my palm between his legs.
"Then why are you so fucking hard for me?"
He whimpers. Just a little.