41） Guess Who, Bitch
Rava
We step through the gates.
The lights are everywhere. Spinning and pulsing, neon pinks and golds, purples mixed with blues. Laughter comes from every direction. Screams too, the good kind. Probably.
A ride whips people into the air somewhere behind me, and they're yelling like crazy. Honestly, I get it. To our left, a group dances on plastic white tables, stomping to old Italian songs with arms around each other.
On the far side, kids race to games and throw little plastic balls. Vendors are shouting prices in a dozen accents. The scent of fried sugar and roasted chestnuts floats through the air and I'm loving it. It's a fucking dream. One of those scenes people paint.
Too loud, too bright, and basically too perfect. And still, the best thing here is standing next to me. I glance sideways.
My Gio.
"I can't believe how different this place feels now," I murmur. "The first time we came here, I was so tense I could've shattered."
He doesn't even look away from the chaos in front of us. Just grins. "I know. It's fucking great." Then he turns to me, smiling.
"Who would've guessed that day, you were slowly driving yourself into the best sex of your life? And also, incidentally, the best relationship of your life."
I raise a brow. Consider punching him.
Instead I nod. "I can't even deny it. Facts. Actually, no. I can. I just remembered the bullying. We're done. I'm breaking up with you."
He puts a hand on his chest, mock-offended. "Wow. No dick for you tonight, I guess."
I snort. "Please. Not even you believe that."
He squints at me. Then shrugs. "True. Now come on. I see a food stall over there that's calling us." He grabs my hand and starts walking.
Okay. First of all, this food shouldn't legally be called food. It's…fluorescent. I stare at it, confused. It's hot pink, oozing in six different directions, and soaked in something that smells like… synthetic strawberries mixed with nacho cheese.
Help. It looks like someone deep fried a children's toy and added whipped cream for drama. I'm holding it in one hand.
"Ravioli," Gio says behind me, mouth already full. "You're missing the full experience, man. Eat the thing."
I glance over. He's holding a paper tray so overstuffed with curly fries it's bending, about to give up on life. Ketchup dripping down his wrist.
I scoff. "This isn't food. This is calories in a napkin." He shrugs and takes another demonic bite, eyes rolling back like he just had a religious experience.
"I think I'm gonna cum if I take another bite."
"Come on, you horny piece of meat, let's find a place to sit."
I grab his hand and start walking. We push through the crowd, dodging bubble guns, and at least three parents arguing about strollers.
I'm still trying to find a place to sit when I see something and my heart melts. A tiny kid, maybe four. Alone. Balloon string looped around his little wrist. Mouth wobbling like he's about to cry. Shit. Nope.
Not letting this kid end up in a sad Netflix documentary. I grab Gio's sleeve. "Stay here. I think that kid's lost." He's in the middle of chewing his fries. "Babe. Please don't get in tr—"
Too late. I'm already walking.
I crouch a little, soften my voice. "Hey, sweetheart. Are you lost? Did you lose your parents?" The boy nods. Slowly. Bottom lip trembling. Oh god. My heart is crushed.
I glance around, trying to stay calm. Where are the parents?! I spot a man, mid-30s, holding a balloon but…with no kid beside him. Huh. I walk over. "Excuse me, sir," I ask gently. "Is this your child, by any chance?" He spins around, face twisted in shock.
"WHAT?! NO!"
"Oh, okay I thought—"
"I DON'T HAVE A CHILD!"
"Okay, sir, I believe you!"
And that's when everything detonates. A woman suddenly screeches from behind. "WHY ARE YOU HOLDING MY CHILD?!" Oh no.
Another woman, standing next to the balloon guy, turns to him in horror. "YOU HAVE A CHILD?!"
"What?! No, I don't even know—" The first woman points at me. "DID YOU TWO JUST TRY TO TAKE MY KID?!"
I want to cry. "I was just trying to help I swear—"
Another voice joins. "Are you a pedophile?!"
Oh my god. Before I can breathe, a man stomps up from the other side of the crowd, wraps an arm around the woman, and looks at me. "Who the hell is THIS string bean holding my kid?"
I am. I am the string bean.
I step back, still holding the child's hand.
Which I immediately, gently release. "I think there's been a miscommunication," I stammer.
"SECURITY!" It's the dad. Red in the face. Panic detonates. I literally don't know what to do. I start running. I barrel through the crowd, spot Gio still by the food stand, pouring ketchup on fries. I grab his wrist so hard I nearly send his fries flying. "RUN, YOU GREASY LUMP!"
"WHAT?!" He's still chewing. "What the hell did you do?!" "I WAS TRYING TO BE A GOOD PERSON AND NOW I'M A PEDOPHILE!!"
We're sprinting through the screams while Gio's cackling. His fingers are laced with mine, and he yells something about how I owe him for making him leave half his fries behind. We duck into a narrow alley between two games. The noise dims. We're panting, sweat clinging to our necks.
I peek out. The dad is there. Scanning the crowd. I shove Gio back. "Don't talk. Don't breathe. Please." He opens his mouth to say something. "I SAID DON'T—"
The guy turns. He's walking toward us. I panic. Fully.
I do the first thing that comes to mind. I grab Gio's shirt, yank him toward me, and kiss him. Shove us back behind a curtain of some old photo booth backdrop. I press against him until his body blocks mine. Hiding me. I hear his sharp inhale.
His hands come up to grip my waist. And then he kisses me back. Full tilt. Laughing into my mouth. We stay like that, tangled and hidden, until the footsteps pass. He breaks the kiss with his forehead on mine. "Okay. That was the hottest getaway kiss of all time." I whisper, "Is he gone?"
He peeks. "Yep. But you might've traumatized four families." I groan and hide my face in his shirt. "I just wanted to help…" He snorts. "I know, baby. But you tried to return a kid like it was a lost umbrella."
"I panicked."
"You kissed me to hide."
"I panicked again."
"You owe me seven blowjobs," he whispers while smiling. We're both laughing now. His hands find my face. He kisses me again, softer this time. "I love you," he whispers.
"Even though I almost got myself arrested?"
"Especially because you almost got yourself arrested." He grins. "That was sexy as hell."
"Then I guess I love you back."
My forehead rests against his. I feel his smile on my lips. I glance around. We're still tucked between two food stalls, behind a half-hanging curtain of forgotten photo booth fabric. The lights from the rides flicker in the distance, but here? It's shadow. It's just us.
"About those seven blowjobs…" I smile into his mouth. "Maybe we make them six?" I whisper.
His eyes widen. He stares at me like I'm crazy. "Here?" he says, the tip of his tongue running over the inside of his cheek. His eyes dart around, scanning the alley. "Now?"
I nod, almost innocently, brushing my lips across his. "Why not?" I murmur against his mouth. His hands grip my sides. "Fuck, if someone sees—"
"They won't." I smile against his jaw. "I'll be fast."
I kiss his neck. "Please?" He takes a deep breath. I watch the war behind his eyes.
Logic, lust, fear, thrill. It lasts maybe two seconds. Then he lets out a sharp breath, and grabs my face.
"You're fucking dangerous, Ravioli."
"Mm," I hum. "That makes two of us."
He looks at me for one more beat, then slides his hand into my hair. And pushes me down. My knees hit the ground before my thoughts catch up.
I glance up. He's staring down at me. He's already hard. He rests his hand on the back of my neck and his thumb is brushing against my skin. "You better not stop."
I smirk. Adjusting my glasses. "I won't." The ground is rough beneath me. But I don't care. I'm already undoing his belt.
Adrenaline is making everything sharper.
The fact that we could get caught at any second.
I pull him out and I don't waste a second.
I take him into my mouth. Deep. Pretty much like I've been starving for it.
He moans and throws his head back. His hand finds my hair immediately and grips it, not gentle at all.
I breathe through my nose, focus on the heat of him. I love this. Fuck. Seeing him hard, makes me hard. His hand hits the back of my head. And then both of them are there, gripping my hair.
Gag reflex? Fucking gone. Buried somewhere between my pride and the last ounce of shame I had before I crawled onto this floor. He tilts my head back, slowly at first, then rougher.
Back. Forth. Back. Forth. "Fuck, Rava," he hisses. "You're gonna get us fucking arrested."
I glance up. Just enough for our eyes to lock. My glasses are foggy. But I don't stop. I go even deeper. He bites down on his fist to muffle a sound, and I take that as a win. His thighs tighten. His other hand slams against the wall above us, holding him steady.
The alley is too quiet. Every soft suck and every gasp, feels dangerously loud. I work faster. My hand wraps around the base of him. My lips ache, but hell, I don't slow down.
He starts whispering my name. "Rava fuck—whatever you're doing don't stop—" He tenses. One long, shuddering breath, then he cums. All in my throat.
I swallow it all, while my hands are still gripping his hips to hold him steady while he twitches and gasps above me. His hand is still in my hair, tighter now.
I stay there a moment longer, breathing hard. My jaw is sore. I slowly pull back. My lips are wet. I stand. He looks wrecked. His mouth is parted. He looks like someone who just narrowly escaped death and found heaven instead.
"Told you I'd be quick," I murmur, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. He doesn't speak. Just stares at me like he wants to drop to his knees now. Then he surges forward and grabs me.
His hand on my throat. The other tangled in my shirt. And kisses me, completely breathless. Just the kind that I like. The kind that says you're mine.
I moan into his mouth. Wish I could frame this moment. We step back into the lights. Back into the noise and the chaos.
My knees are red. My throat is dry. Do I regret it? Hell no.
I wipe the corner of my mouth with my thumb. Quickly. Then reach out and grab Gio's bicep like I didn't just try to blow him into another dimension behind a curtain.
His arm's warm. He leads. "Follow me," he says. "Where are we going?" I ask, narrowing my eyes as I try to act chill, casual, my knees still recovering from what I just did. He doesn't answer. He stops mid-step, pulls out his phone, types something fast.
I raise an eyebrow. "What are you doing?" He glances up. Smirks. "Okay. Come here." I follow. We turn the corner.
No. NO.
I stop dead in my tracks. It's that ride. The death trap. The spinning, scream-extracting machine of suffering that he made me get on two months ago when we had our first solo outing.
He knows what that ride did to me. He knows I sounded like a pterodactyl giving birth that night.
"No." I shake my head, "absolutely not."
"Rava…" he says, dragging it out, hands clasped together dramatically. "Please?"
"Not again. No. I value my life. My soul.
My vocal cords." I gesture toward a fish-themed game next to us.
"Look, we can just go there instead! Win a prize!
Maybe take home a little goldfish! Very wholesome!
Very non-lethal." He tilts his head. "Oh, so now you're not a fan of dangerous things…
even though five minutes ago you were on your knees—"
"We are doing the damn ride." I turn around. March toward the line. I don't look back. Behind me, I hear him laugh. He jogs to catch up, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "Wow. That worked better than I thought."
"Shut up." I'm blushing. I can feel it. He kisses the top of my head as we get in line. And I let him. Because honestly, I'd scream myself hoarse a thousand times to hear him laugh like that again.
We're in line. And by "in line" I mean waiting to die.
I watch the ride spin with demonic energy, people screaming. I grip Gio's arm tighter. He glances at me, grinning. Rubs slow circles on my back.
"Breathe. I got you. I'll even get you a goldfish after, baby. Swear to God. You deserve your goldfish." I open my mouth to answer but someone covers my eyes from behind.
"GUESS WHO, BITCH."
I flinch. Gio's already laughing. I turn. Lorenzo.
Wearing sunglasses. Inside a semi-covered ride zone. With an unbuttoned floral shirt. Next to him, Daisy.
Her crop top matching the chaotic colors of Lorenzo's shirt, hair up. And then…Marco.
Our Tree Guy.
Standing silently, holding a plush…cockroach. An actual cockroach teddy bear the size of a newborn. I blink at it.
He holds it out to me, proudly but kinda shy. "Rava, dude," he says solemnly. "I met you late. But I feel you. You're my guy. Take this cockroach."
I take it with both hands. I feel like a knight accepting a cursed relic. "Thank you, Tree Guy. I'm hanging this above my bed." He nods. "Good. That's where she belongs."
Lorenzo claps his hands. "Right. Tonight is your night. Your farewell. Your chaos coronation. We are here to humiliate you with love, one last time."
"NEXT GROUP."
Fuck me.
We walk up the metal stairs. Lorenzo's doing a shoulder-shimmy to Happy Birthday by El Alfa blaring from the speakers. He slaps the rail with the beat.
Daisy's filming him and mouthing "I love this man so much but he's mentally gone." We sit. My hands are shaking. Gio helps me buckle the harness. Leans in close, and shouts over the song.
"Inhale! You got this, baby!" I turn, wide-eyed. "If I survive, you owe me eight blowjobs! Back to back! I want to pass out!"
He grins. "Deal!"
I face forward, barely breathing. Marco's next to me, calm. Acting like he's getting a facial, not about to be catapulted into the stratosphere.
He nods toward my arm. "That's a sick tattoo! Did you get that here in Italy?"
I light up. Finally, something I'm not scared of.
"Nah, Canada. My best friend did it! His name's Noah! He's insanely good." I shout back. Marco's head tilts. He raises an eyebrow. "Noah? Wait—Lorenzo never shuts up about a Noah guy. Same dude?"
I smirk. "Yep. That's him." Marco stares ahead. Serious. "Tell that Noah guy I'm gonna touch him."
"Got it."
We all hear the sound of metal clamping. The final lock. The ride operator waves dramatically. The ride jolts. Metal grinds. The lights flicker red. And then the machine moves. Just a little.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—" Lorenzo screams before anything even happens.
"SHUT UP, YOU MORON!" Daisy yells beside him. He immediately stops. Like a switch flipped. "…sorry," he mutters.
Next to me, Gio is grinning. His hand slides over mine and squeezes gently. I take a deep breath.
You got this, Rava. It's just metal. And screaming. And regret. It's fine. You lived through worse. You're dating a fine tatted rider with a criminal record and a cat. We start rising. Higher. The sky's closer now. My stomach is already arguing with gravity.
DROP. The world disappears beneath us.
And so do my manners. "FUCK YOU GIO. FUCK YOU. YOU STUPID DUMB-ASS BASTARD. I SHOULD'VE NEVER TRUSTED YOU—"
"THINK OF THE GOLDFISH!" Gio yells, laughing so hard he can't breathe.
"I DON'T LOVE YOU ANYMORE—"
"WHAT GOLDFISH??" Lorenzo screams. "GUYS I MIGHT VOMIT. NOT EVEN JOKING. WHO brOUGHT ME HERE??"
Daisy yells back at him.
"YOU brOUGHT YOURSELF HERE!"
The ride spins. The ground is up. The sky is sideways. My soul has left the group. Marco is cackling. Laughing. Hands in the air like he just got laid and won the lottery at the same time. I stare at him for one full rotation. Then I snap back into survival mode.
Lock in. Come on, Rava. Focus. Ignore the nausea. Eight blowjobs. Eight. One. Two. Three. On the couch. In the shower. On the bike. Back of the car—NO. FOCUS.
You have a goal. You have a future. You have a Gio. I grit my teeth. I breathe. You will survive this. A few more minutes.
We come off the ride like it spit us out. Lorenzo's swaying, dramatic as ever.
He throws his arm around Marco and immediately trips. They both hit the ground in a messy heap, laughing like idiots. Daisy just stands there, looking down at them like a single mom who regrets taking the neighborhood kids to the carnival.
She sighs. Loudly. "I should've left you both at home." I find Gio, still smirking. Walk right up to him.
"I did it. You owe me eight blowjobs. And a goldfish."
He catches both my hands in his like he is about to propose.
"I have a better idea."