Chapter 27 #9
He leans into my neck and shouts. "Yeah, Gio. I called. You don't need to keep reminding me that I'm leaving."
And just like that, my smile cracks a little. Before I can say anything, Lorenzo swims up between us. "You two whispering again? Is it a sex joke? Are we plotting something? Is there a plan I'm not in on?"
Rava rolls his eyes. "Bro, you're the biggest gossip I've ever met. I swear to God." Lorenzo grins. "Yes, but I'm charming. I made you spill your whole tragic little love story at that carnival when you were blackout drunk, didn't I?"
I turn sharply. "Can someone please tell me what he said that night?"
"NO," Rava says.
"Don't worry, you probably have already done the things he was telling me." Lorenzo replies. Daisy cuts in, raising a brow. "Can I know?"
Lorenzo immediately turns to her. "So your not-so-innocent brother said—"
But before he can continue, Rava grabs him by the wrist and yanks him underwater with a massive splash. From beneath, I hear Lorenzo's muffled scream. "HE'S ACTUALLY DROWNING ME, THIS IS HOW I GO—"
Then I hear some girl floating next to us, talking to her friend, tipsy and loud. "My mouth tastes like Malibu and seawater." Rava lights up. "Wait—Malibu?" He looks over, with wide eyes. "She's drinking Malibu. That's what I want. I'm getting one. Get off me, you freak."
"I'm going to the bar."
I don't even hesitate. "I'll come with."
He doesn't say no. We push out of the water, still dripping, and immediately we're swallowed by the crowd.
Wet bodies everywhere. Towels, sand, someone wrapped in a floatie drinking straight from the bottle. It's mayhem. I reach for his hand. "Hold onto me," I mutter. "We'll get lost."
…
Oh fuck.
I'm holding his hand. I'm holding his hand.
My heart is losing its fucking mind.
I don't get it. I really don't. We've had sex a stupid amount of times. We've done many things that would make priests combust on sight.
I've literally had my tongue between his asscheeks.
But this?? Hands?? I'm ascending.
Our hands look good together. If someone took a picture right now I wouldn't even flinch. This is nice.
Why didn't we do this sooner? I could get used to this.
…
We make it to the bar. The bartender looks like he's aged ten years in five minutes. He's darting between trays, screaming at a blender. We wait.
Rava is still holding my hand. I let my eyes drift. Big mistake. A couple of meters down, there is some dude.
Red hair. Too red. Like artificially flame-colored.
More freckles than skin. And he's looking at Rava like he wants to lick him.
Is that bitch actually looking at Rava like that?
I check. Maybe he's staring past us.
Nope. It's my boy. Of course it is. My Rava. And this dude's eyeballs are about to fall out of his skull. I step closer, real slow.
My hands go to the sides of Rava's neck, fingers resting just at his temples. The guy doesn't look away. I stare back.
Try me, freckle boy. Fucking try me.
Finally, the bartender gestures to us. "We're up!" Rava says to me. He bounces a little. "Hi! Can I get a Malibu with pineapple and cranberry?" The bartender nods.
I fish out my credit card.
"You're adorable," I mumble. He grins. His whole face lights up. I pay. We take the drink. We walk away. I don't let go of his hand. Not yet. Rava is smiling. A lot.
Like…a lot a lot. Too much. Why is he smiling like that?
Wait—shit. Did he see the ginger?! Did he catch that whole thing? Fuck, fuck, fuck, act natural.
"Why are you smiling so much?" I ask.
Rava swings our hands lightly back and forth. Like we're twelve. "It's gonna sound dumb," he says, "but this is the first time we've held hands."
I freeze. I feel the words 'oh my god I love you' crawling up my throat like bile. Hold it, Gio. Hold it down.
Don't fall to your knees. Don't grab a piece of seaweed and turn it into a ring. Don't ask him to marry you right here while he's sipping Malibu.
He'll choke. He'll die.
You'll have to bury him right next to the 'Tree Guy'.
I force a laugh. "Now that you say it, yeah. You're right."
He beams. I die. We make it back to our spot, and thank fuck, the universe gives me a distraction.
Lorenzo and Daisy are lounging like gremlins under the tree. Lorenzo raises his drink.
"See? Told you it was a good idea trusting Tree Guy. He's a real one." We sit down, sand sticking everywhere. Daisy grabs his drink. Rava immediately snatches it back. "Use your own, goblin," he says, deadpan. "Leave mine alone."
She rolls her eyes but doesn't argue. Lorenzo is next to us, leaning back on his elbows, staring at the stars with that glazed look that screams 'I'm not drunk, but I've definitely stopped being fully sober'.
"Guys…" he mumbles dramatically, "I think I'm starting to feel it… " I snort into my cup. "You think?"
He tries to flip me off but ends up smacking himself in the face. Beautiful. I sip my drink, watching all of them. I feel like I'm in a documentary about dysfunctional Mediterranean fauna.
Half an hour later
Daisy is deep into her musical era, giving lectures about love and the female psyche. She suddenly shoots up. "OKAY. I need movement. Movement or I'm gonna start oversharing and you'll all cry. Come on, beach rats, volleyball!"
Lorenzo lifts a lazy hand. "Whatever the lady says."
Rava hesitates. "I don't know…"
"You do know," Lorenzo says and grabs him by the wrist. "Up."
I groan, sprawled in the sand like a starfish. "Leave me here. Have mercy. My arms are sore. Unlike some people, I didn't quit working out."
Lorenzo turns, scandalized. "Excuse me?! I still have sexy back, thank you very much."
"You have something back there. Can't confirm the sexy part."
"Rude. Tragic. I'm hurt."
"Don't care. Not playing. I'm suffering." They ignore me and start doing a sloppy triangle toss. Daisy is flailing. Lorenzo is yelling instructions that make no sense. Then I see him. A new voice. Too friendly. "Sorry, are you guys playing? Mind if I join?"
I lift my head. No.
Nope. Hell no. It's him. HIM. The ginger bastard from the bar. The freckles. The eyes. The "I wanna eat your man" energy. Lorenzo, the welcoming idiot, says, "Yeah, come on in!" I shoot up so fast I almost throw my spine out. "Count me in," I yell.
Daisy looks at me. "I thought you said—"
"I changed my mind." Rava turns to look at me, confused.
This will be fun.
33) That Was So Hot
Gio
I step into the circle. Everyone's giggling. Rava's cheeks are flushed. Daisy's talking way too loud. Lorenzo is holding the ball. I'm looking at him. The new guy. The annoying ginger.
Of course he has to be hot. Tall. One of those stupid lean builds that says, "I do yoga and emotionally support women" or whatever. Confident smirk. Clean fingers. Freckles.
Get out.
I want to punch every single one. He sits right next to Rava. Way too close. I want to slap the smugness off his fucking stupid symmetrical face. "I'm Jasper," he says, grinning at Rava.
Not even fucking glancing at the rest of us. Rava blinks, clearly caught off guard. He puts down his Malibu slowly, then nods once. "I'm Rava. This is Gio," he gestures toward me. His fingers brush my arm.
"This is Daisy and Lorenzo." Jasper doesn't even react. Just throws Rava a casual "Nice to meet you" before stretching his long-ass limbs. I glance at Daisy. She's now holding the ball in her hand and giving me full side eye.
We start playing. Just a few lazy passes, Lorenzo's making dumb spins, Daisy too. And then there's this fucker.
Jasper.
Every time the ball goes near Rava, suddenly ooohh Jasper's right there. Like a fucking shadow.
He slips in from nowhere, brushes against Rava's shoulder, his lower back, pretending it's casual. Every few minutes he throws in a, "You're really good at this," eyes on Rava's mouth like he wants to lick the words off his lips.
I'm trying not to choke him with my own fucking necklace. The ball comes to me. I go for it, my arms scream from the pain. It lands off-center. Not terrible, but not great either.
Jasper jumps in instantly and laughs. "Guess not everyone trained for the big leagues," he says with that snaky smile, like he just said, "Nice weather we're having." I stare at him.
Lord… I want to drag my thumb across his teeth like a piano, feel which ones are loose enough to remove.
But I don't. I pass the fucking ball. I can't say anything. That's the worst fucking part.
What do I even say? "Hey, Rava, I don't like another male organism standing that close to you." Fucking pathetic. So I shut up. I press my lips hard together. And I keep playing. Rava makes a killer pass, honestly, it's so good I almost forget I want to commit murder.
Lorenzo whistles. "Damn, bro," he laughs, shaking sand out of his hair. "What's this? Planning on being a volleyball pro on the side of your sexy schoolteacher job?" Rava laughs too.
"Wait, what?"
It's him. Jasper, with his fucking fake surprise. "You're gonna be a teacher? No way! I'm in education too, that's crazy!"
I freeze. There's no fucking way.
I don't even hide the eye-roll. He studies education? Yeah, sure, buddy. He's just saying that to impress him. Obviously. Basic shit. The oooooldest move in the fucking book.
Say whatever the hot guy says, pretend to have something in common, boom—bonding. Fucking pathetic.
"I just finished a thesis on linguistic scaffolding for bilingual toddlers."
...
Fuck me sideways.
He's telling the truth.
I can't be living this. Of course he fucking looks at me. The moment he finds out Rava studies education too, of course he turns his smug freckled face toward me like he'd just scored a fucking goal.
I don't look back. I refuse. I just keep staring at the ball in my hands. The universe is spitting directly in my face.
What are the fucking chances??
Out of every guy on this beach, he just had to pick mine.
He just had to study the exact same thing, didn't he? Couldn't have been a plumber or a barista or literally anything else that wouldn't make my teeth grind.
No.