Chapter 27 #2
"You won’t," I say firmly. "But even if you stumble? You’ll stand the fuck back up. Like you always have." He blinks hard, his throat bobbing as he tries to swallow the lump forming. I smile softly, leaning closer. "I don’t care if you’re on the other side of the world or sitting right here beside me. You’re still my Ravioli.
And you’re still gonna make me the proudest bastard on this damn planet. "
"You’ve changed so much, Gio."
I tilt my head a little, wiping a tear off his jaw. "What does that mean?" He takes a shaky breath, eyes locked on mine. "You once said you didn’t know how to be there for people who needed you." He smiles weakly. "And look at you now."
"Yeah, well," I whisper, kissing his forehead, "turns out I just needed you to teach me how."
He buries his face against my chest after that, arms wrapping around my waist.
I’m not gonna get to do this all the time anymore. Every hug now? It’s a fucking countdown. One less. Each time I pull him into me, it’s another step closer to the last time I’ll get to.
So I hold him like I’m starving.
I want to stockpile hugs.
I want to overdose on him. Because I’m in love with a man I can’t keep in my arms forever, and I just want as many moments as I can steal before the clock runs out.
"I want you to call that lady tomorrow," I tell him, brushing my fingers through his hair. "And you’re gonna tell her not only are you going, you’re gonna fucking crush it."
He smiles weakly, and I lean in, dropping my voice.
"You’ll be the most badass, sexiest teacher they’ve ever seen.
I’m talking jaws on the floor. Parents will want parent-teacher conferences just to stare at you.
Students will actually want to show up to class for once.
You’ll ruin education for everyone else, baby. "
Rava laughs, shaking his head as tears still cling to his lashes. "You’re ridiculous."
"Damn right I am," I grin. "But I’m also right."
I press my forehead to his. "I’ll wait for you. For us. As long as it takes. No one’s taking my filthy nerd from me." Rava laughs again, but softer this time.
"How would you even wait for me? You’re Gio. The Gio. The no-relationships-ever Gio."
I pull back, pretending to be offended. "Dude. Don’t make me start. I shared my pies with you."
He bursts out laughing, but I keep going, dead serious now. "I’m wearing a colorful bracelet with your name on it. Your name, Rava. I cried on your shoulder, man. I showed you the fucking box. I let you borrow my gear on the bike because if anyone’s gonna get hurt, it’s me, not you."
His eyes widen.
"I even got a fucking ravioli tattoo while I was completely fucking wasted!" I throw my hands up. "I punched and threatened a guy at Sophia’s party for you."
"Wait—what?!" he blinks. "You said the fight was about old crap?!"
"Eh, long story. Not the point right now."
I smile softly, taking his face in my hands again, my thumb brushing away the last tear. "The point is, I fucking love you."
He collapses against me after that. "I love you too."
We brush our teeth after a while, wash our faces, and leave the bathroom. We’re both lying flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling like two idiots. Then, out of nowhere, I roll and climb on top of him, my body draping over his like a blanket. I need to feel him. Right now.
"Gio," he laughs, breath catching slightly. "Babe. Oxygen. I kinda need it."
I smirk against his collarbone. "Your father hit me, Rava. This is the family tax. I get to crush you now." He snorts, his hand finds my hair, fingers threading gently through it.
"Can’t argue with that."
I close my eyes for a second. Fuck, I love when he does that. His touch can glue me together, no matter how messy everything is. I know his father. That bastard won’t let today slide. But I’m not about to say that. Not now. Not tonight.
Because tonight I’m too fucking proud of him to even let my brain go there. He earned this peace. He earned everything.
So I just keep my hand in his hair, running my fingers through it slowly, as he exhales under me. "You did good today, filthy nerd," I whisper against his cheek. "Better than good. You were fucking perfect." I lay back fully.
"Thanks a lot, street rat. Goodnight." And before I can even reply, his hand slips under the waistband of my boxers. Not doing anything. Just existing there.
Resting…on my dick.
Casual as hell. I freeze for a second, staring at the ceiling, trying to process my life choices. "You are such a whore," I mutter.
"What?" His voice is already half-asleep. "It helps me relax." I shake my head, letting out a laugh.
Un-fucking-believable.
I turn my head slightly, to look at him.
His lashes are already low, completely at peace.
Suddenly, Lulu jumps on the bed and makes herself right at home, curled up like a cinnamon bun directly on Rava’s ass.
Rava’s head lifts slowly. He turns, mouth hanging open. First he looks at Lulu. Then at me.
"She chose me…" His hand is still down my underwear. "Out of every spot, she chose MY ass…" I lose it. I laugh right in his stunned face. He looks stunned. "Blink, dude!"
"I am the prophecy..."
My abs hurt. I’m wheezing. I’m gonna die laughing. She starts purring. He goes completely still. Then his mouth twitches. His eyes get all glassy, like he’s actually about to cry.
"Gio, I think I’m gonna faint." He looks at me, dead serious. "The queen has chosen my ass. I’m not strong enough for this. She could’ve curled up anywhere. On your chest. On the pillow. On your dick. But she didn’t."
"That’s right, Ravioli, she chose your ass.
Wow. Now sleep. Goodnight." I pet Lulu once, kiss his cheek, and then I finally close my eyes. I find myself smiling like a complete idiot. I’m so fucking happy.
Right now, right here, this is it. This is all I ever wanted, and I didn’t even know. Until now.
28) Holy Goddamn Mouth
Rava
I don’t want to open my eyes. Not because I’m tired. I’m not. I slept better than I have in weeks, my whole body feels like it has finally been allowed to rest.
But I don’t open them. Because if I do, the day will start. And days mean hours. And hours mean countdowns. So I stay still, with my eyes closed, breathing him in. His scent is on the pillow, on my skin, on everything. Eventually, I blink.
Gio is still asleep. Lying on his side, one arm draped over my waist. His face is calm and relaxed, none of that usual sarcastic face. Just peace. And I just lie there, staring.
How can someone look that good when they’re unconscious? It doesn’t make sense. It should be illegal. Honestly. He looks even younger like this. Like he hasn’t bruised or bled or fought tooth and nail to be who he is. But I know better. I know every sharp edge behind that softness.
And still, all I want to do is kiss him. How am I supposed to walk away from this? From him? Getting that call last night, it’s like the universe hands me the brightest star in the sky and then whispers, "but you can’t take it with you."
It feels like winning a race only to realize I’ve been running in the wrong direction.
Like being handed the key to a door I never wanted to open.
Suddenly, the dream feels like a trade. Because what’s the point of achieving something great if it rips the best part of you away?
Don’t get me wrong, I love education. I really fucking do.
My first love was learning. My second was him. And they couldn’t be more different. One gave me control, the other stole it completely.
I keep asking myself, can’t I have both? Can’t I be the person I want to be and stay with the person I love? Why does it feel like the universe is holding two ropes and telling me to pick one?
I hate that I’m even thinking like this. Gio would tell me I’m being dramatic. He’d roll his eyes, shove my shoulder, tell me, "Baby, you’re acting like there’s no Wi-Fi in Canada."
He’d make it sound so simple. You go, you study, we call, we visit, we make it work. He believes in me so hard it physically hurts. And while he’s talking about how this is huge and how I’ll be the hottest teacher in North America, I’m thinking, you’re not coming with me.
I can’t say it out loud. I can’t look at him and say, "Hey, I’m so happy I got this, but the idea of not seeing you every day makes me want to throw up." How selfish is that? He’s always pushing me forward.
Always telling me I deserve more, that I’m smart, that I’m capable, that I’m not my father, not my past, not the scared kid who thought he’d never get out.
And now that "out" is literally in my inbox, I’m sitting here wondering if maybe staying would hurt less. I hate myself a little for even thinking it. Because I know what it took to get here.
The late nights. The exams. The anxiety. The papers I almost deleted because my brain was screaming you’re not good enough for this. I’m sad. I’m scared. I feel guilty for all of it.
I’m terrified of losing him if I go.
And I’m terrified of losing myself if I stay.
So yeah. I got what I wanted. I just wish it didn’t feel so much like breaking my own heart in the process. I look at him again. I reach out and touch his jaw gently, tracing the edge of his stubble with the back of my fingers.
And then his eyes open. Shit. I freeze. He blinks slowly, eyes still heavy with sleep, and I see the exact second he registers what I’m doing. "Um," I start, panic rising in my throat.
"That’s not—I wasn’t staring, I just—"
Before I can finish that absolute trainwreck of a sentence, his arm shoots out. With one lazy move, he pulls me in. I land on the other side with a soft thump, half sprawled across his chest, and his hand slides around my waist, locking me in place.
What the hell. My heart is thudding like I’ve just been caught stealing something.
Which I guess, technically, I did.
A moment. A little piece of peace.
"You were staring," he mutters, his lips brushing the top of my head. "Creep."