Chapter 1 #14
Noah throws his arms up in mock outrage. "Okay, WHO is this Lorenzo and WHY haven't I met my Italian soulmate yet?" He crosses his arms. "You two keep talking about him like he's some lost twin I was separated from at birth."
I grin. "You'll meet him tonight." Noah's brows shoot up. Rava blinks. "…Tonight?"
"Yeah." I lean back against the wall, arms crossed, casually smug. "There's a massive party a couple towns over. We're going with Lorenzo. You're both coming."
Rava raises a brow. Noah leans in, already excited. "How are we getting there?"
"My car. All of us." I pause. "We're staying overnight."
Rava squints. Noah tilts his head. "…Why?"
I smile. "Because we're gonna get so blind, so absolutely destroyed, no one's gonna be able to drive back. Not even in a dream." Rava's eyes widen.
Noah yells. "Holy SHIT. I'm going to bed now so I'm fully charged by then." I turn toward the door, already stepping out. "I'm gonna go teach your little brother some history before he bombs his future completely."
As I pass Rava, I throw an arm around his neck. Pull him in. Kiss the top of his head. "See you later, Ravioli."
Behind me, Noah makes a dramatic noise and covers his face. "I can't take this. I can't take this. You're disgusting. I'm crying. I'm so happy. Fuck you both." And I walk out smiling.
11) Record This !
Rava
It's night.
I fold a clean shirt and toss it into my bag, glancing over at Noah who is making a mess of his clothes. He looks weirdly excited. "So?" I ask, trying to sound casual. "What did you think of Gio?"
Noah zips his bag halfway, then freezes.
He raises his eyebrows like the answer is obvious. "Okay—not gonna lie, at first? I thought you were exaggerating. Like, classic crush syndrome or whatever," he says, shaking his head.
"But nah. You fucking undersold him, man." I smile before I can stop myself. It doesn't mean anything, I know. Gio and I aren't together or anything.
But still... it matters. That Noah likes him.
"What are you even bringing?" I ask, trying to cover the fact I'm still smiling. "Boxers. Toothbrush. Condoms."
I shoot him a look. He laughs. "I'm joking. Relax." Noah slings his bag over his shoulder. "Dude. Life in Italy is already goddamn perfect." He grins at me. "I might never go back."
And honestly? I'm not sure I want to go back either.
Noah is buttoning up his ridiculous yellow-and-white floral shirt. White pants. Gold chain. He looks like the human version of a cocktail.
I'm finishing up with my hair, slicking it back with a quick swipe of my fingers.
Black polo. Black trousers. Clean, simple and safe.
Daisy sits cross-legged on my bed, watching us.
"Okay, damn," she says. "You guys look like you just walked out of a magazine.
A really hot, really expensive magazine. "
Noah turns to her, struck a pose. "I know, right? Should I be worried your brother's outshining me?"
She laughs. "Both of you are giving dangerously fine. Like, dangerously."
"Good," Noah grins, grabbing his bag. "We're going to be surrounded by drunk Italians. Gotta be ready." I roll my eyes and reach for my phone and wallet.
We walk downstairs, where my mom and brother are still up. Dad is in his office, thank god.
We get the usual barrage of questions.
Where are you going? Who's driving? When will you be back?
"We'll see you tomorrow," I say as we reach the door.
"If we're alive."
Jin throws a pillow at us. "Don't die. I need your charger."
"Touch my charger and you're dead," I shoot back, grinning. And with that, we step outside.
…
There's this sound. The rumble.
That damn exhaust growl that can only belong to one person. Gio. I smirk without meaning to.
Noah moans. "I'm shitting myself. That fucking engine. That fucking man. Your boyfriend is a walking violation, Rava."
I side-eye him. "He's not my boyfriend, but holy damn, back off, dude." He cracks up. And then we turn the corner, the car is already waiting.
Lorenzo is outside the passenger door, bottle of tequila in one hand, moving to the rhythm of 'XOXO' by Rvfv, which blasts through the car speakers.
His white shirt is open, hair messy. Noah stops walking.
Stares.
Then slowly raises his own tequila bottle.
Lorenzo looks up. Eyes lock.
He looks at his own bottle again. And then they both explode, laughing, cursing in every language they know.
"YOU'RE SHITTING ME!" Noah yells.
"TEQUILA TWINS, BABY!" Lorenzo screams back.
"FINALLY I DON'T HAVE TO BE THE DAMN THIRD WHEEL FOR THESE TWO SEXUAL FREAKS!"
From inside the car, Gio leans out the driver's window. "It's actually an honor, Lorenzo. Now shut the fuck up and get in."
We pile in. Lorenzo and Noah take the back, bottles clinking and already talking over each other. Noah leans forward toward Gio. "Okay, real question, what's under that hood? That exhaust is porn. Literal porn. Filthy. Sexy. I'm in love. What is it?"
Gio turns slightly, lifting an eyebrow.
"Custom. Straight pipe. Did the whole system myself."
Noah lets out a low whistle.
"Damn. Respect. I've got a Lamborghini Huracán EVO back in Toronto. You don't even need music, the car is the soundtrack. It sounds like war."
Gio's head actually turns. Slow. One eyebrow lifts over his sunglasses. "…No shit?"
"No shit." Noah grins wider. "You should hear her redline in a tunnel. Makes people duck."
Gio blinks once, visibly impressed, then clicks his tongue. "Okay. Didn't expect Ravioli to be friends with someone cool."
I twist in my seat immediately, fake offended. "Excuse you?" Gio shrugs, cocky as hell. "Come on. You look like you correct people's grammar in texts."
"First of all, I do correct grammar in texts. Because I'm fucking allergic to stupidity and I refuse to let 'there' instead of 'their' exist in my inbox. Also, your name probably autocorrects to 'arrested' on half the damn police reports. So shut the hell up."
From the back, Lorenzo leans forward, cackling. "Don't mind them," he whispers to Noah.
"This is just dirty talk in their language."
Gio rolls his eyes, one hand on the wheel, the other flipping him off. "Everyone shut up. Let's go. If anyone pukes in this car, they're cleaning it with their fucking tongue. If anyone spills tequila, I'm leaving them on the side of the road."
Lorenzo grins and reaches forward, dragging two fingers along Gio's neck with zero shame. "Okay, daddy."
He blows him a kiss.
Noah looks at Lorenzo. "Did I just witness an Alabama plot twist in real time?"
I laugh so hard I almost choke.
…
We dumped our stuff at the house we are staying at, bunch of bags half-open, clothes everywhere, and now we are here.
At the party. The actual party.
The second we step into the backyard, we get punched in the face by bass and humidity.
People everywhere. Loud music. Someone is already doing pushups on a speaker. Lorenzo appears out of nowhere. Holding four drinks in both hands. "I GOT THEM!" he yells over the music, eyes shining.
"They're disgusting and flammable! Drink up!" He shoves a glass into Noah's chest. Then Gio's. Mine. Keeps one for himself.
Gio sniffs his. "Why does it smell like cough syrup?"
"Because it's liquid destiny, now SHUT UP and raise your cup!" Lorenzo replies.
We huddle in a crooked circle. Lorenzo steps into the middle.
Shirt unbuttoned. Wearing sunglasses. At night.
He holds up his shot, serious as hell. "Gentlemen," he says, voice deep like he's about to knight us, "after tonight…
I hope we wake up alive." Pause. "And I pray to every god in existence… that we're not waking up in France."
I snort. Noah leans in, raising his glass. "And if I wake up next to someone ugly, may I at least have no memory of it."
"And may the CCTV footage be fucking merciful," Gio adds.
I smile. "To us," I say.
We all clink glasses. And we drink.
Two hours later
The music gets louder. It's 3AM and Gio has completely lost his mind. There’s a freaking circle forming in the middle of the garden. Bodies pushing back. Cups lifted. Voices rising. And in the middle, him.
His shirt is gone, bottle in hand, already yelling and breathing heavily. "WATCH ME OUTDRINK THIS brAIDED FREAK!"
Across from him, there’s…a girl. Sharp jawline, braids, nose ring. She steps forward. "I've seen toddlers handle their juice better than you, sir."
Gio laughs. Loud. Disrespectful. He licks his lips, turns to the crowd. "We got a dead bitch walking!"
Everyone LOSES IT. They sit down cross-legged, face to face, one shot glass each. Two bottles between them. People start chanting their names. The first shot slams.
Then the second. Third. By the fourth, they are both leaning in, sweat on their temples, insults flying in every direction. The girl yells at him. "I drink bitches like you for warmup!" "Sit the fuck down, woman, your liver's gonna tap out before your fake lashes do."
The tough Gio is WASTED!! So wasted it's hilarious. The fifth shot hits. The sixth. Gio wipes the alcohol from his mouth with the back of his hand.
"What's next? You pass out and I carry your pride home, asshole?" She keeps talking, gagging a little.
"Try touching my pride and I'll make sure your mascara runs for days, freak."
People scream and laugh. It is a warzone with alcohol. I am standing off to the side, not fully understanding what the hell is happening. Gio's pupils are blown. The girl sways.
Then, after a couple more shots…SPLASH.
She throws up. Everywhere.
On her hands. Her shirt. The floor. Gio stands up instantly, arms raised like a gladiator. "GET. FUCKED!" Then leans in, yelling in her face. "YOU THOUGHT, BITCH. YOU FUCKING THOUGHT!"
People jump. Drinks fly. Someone lights a flare. I just stand there, holding a half-empty cup, staring at Gio.
And in that moment, I swear…I want to kiss him and punch him and maybe marry him at the same fucking time. I’m still breathing like I’ve run a marathon. Gio is still in full gladiator mode, bottle in hand. Yelling and laughing nonstop.