43） Promise Me
Gio
It's 2AM.
We're at a red light. The streets are dead quiet. Rava's got his arms wrapped tight around me, holding my waist. His fingers are brushing over my abs, real slow. I smirk. "You're not falling asleep on me, are you?"
He snorts behind me. "After everything that just happened in there? I don't think I'll be able to sleep again for at least five days." "Good," I say, revving the engine. "Because I need you awake. For one last time."
But then I correct myself. No. Not one last time.
Fuck that. I'm not letting it be the last. I'm gonna make this plan work.
I'm gonna get him back here fast. I don't care what I have to do to that bastard Nicola.
I'll pull every string, burn every bridge, bribe whoever the hell I need to.
I don't have a choice. I can't do two fucking years without Rava. I won't.
I pull up outside my place and kill the engine. "Off," I say. He hesitates. "Wait…you said we weren't going home."
"We're not," I say, already dismounting. "I just need to feed Lulu and grab a couple things. We're walking from here."
Inside, Lulu's waiting like she sensed sadness. I kneel down, scratch her head. "My girl," I whisper. "You're sleeping solo tonight. Sorry, love, but our baby leaves tomorrow." I kiss the top of her head.
Upstairs, I move fast. I grab two beach towels. Some snacks to nibble on. A few…essential supplies. Rava's swimsuit. The one he left here that night with that idiot Jasper. I toss it in the bag.
One more night. One more shot before I have to let him go.
He's standing there waiting for me. Fuck me sideways.
He looks like a painting. His skin's still glowing from the fair, his cheeks are a little flushed from dancing, hair wet and clinging to his forehead.
His eyes catch mine and hold them hostage.
I walk up and take his hand. We start walking.
It's just us, and us.
"Why are we walking?" he asks.
"You tired?" I say, right away. "Cause I can carry you if you want. All you gotta do is ask." He laughs, tilts his head and rests it against my shoulder. God, I could melt right here.
I could collapse into the pavement and die a very happy man. "I don't need to be carried," he murmurs. "I can walk."
I grin. "That's the problem. Means I didn't do a good enough job yesterday." He hits my arm lightly, laughing again. A black car drives past us. Slowly. It keeps going. But then it brakes.
Reverse lights flash. The window rolls down.
"…Rava?!"
Rava turns his head, doesn't let go of my hand. "…Carla?!"
The driver leans closer.
Ugh. It's Dario. Of fucking course.
His eyes land on me, and his whole face shifts. I can't tell if it's shock or disgust or both. "…Gio?"
I lean a little closer to the car. "Hello, Dario." Dario laughs. "Did you guys lose a bet or something? Someone dared you two to go out together?"
Carla leans forward from the passenger seat, squints at us like we're an illusion. She lowers her voice. "You're not still doing the whole Sophia lie, are you?"
I tilt my head and smirk. "Oh yeah, going strong. We even have sex sometimes, you know, just to make the chemistry more convincing when she's around."
Dario's eyes go comically wide.
He turns to Rava like he's trying to read a language he doesn't speak.
"We didn't lose any bet. He's my boyfriend now." Rava says. Silence. Just crickets.
Dario's mouth opens like he wants to say something but forgot how to speak. "Oh," he breathes out. Carla tries to jump in. "But didn't you use to hate hi—"
"Where are you going?" Rava cuts her off sharp as hell.
Good boy.
She blinks, stunned. "Uh, we were going to meet up with some friends…" Her eyes flick over to me. She hesitates. "Please don't ruin him. He doesn't deserve it."
Respectfully, fuck you, girl.
I smile, but it's cold. "I'm not the one who disappeared for two months without even asking how he was doing," I say. "So maybe sit this one out."
Her mouth opens. She glances at Rava, like she needs his help. "Okay…wow. Cold. I guess you're not in a good mood. Bye, guys," she mutters. Dario waves awkwardly.
And just like that, they're gone. I swear to God if she ever says some shit like that again, I won't be so polite.
Now it's just us again. Rava exhales. "Wow, you really said that." He looks over at me. "I mean—you're not wrong. We haven't said a single word since they found out I kissed you. I think Carla still has my last message sitting on 'delivered'."
I shrug. "Fuck her." I slip my fingers between his. "Come on. I want all of your attention." We walk down the narrow path to the beach, our spot.
No people. No noise. Just the waves and the faint hum of streetlights somewhere in the distance. The breeze blows his hair right into his forehead and I swear to God, I wanna punch a wall.
He's so gorgeous it physically fucking hurts.
We reach the spot and I drop the bag on the sand. "Want me to help?" he asks. "No," I say, already unzipping the bag. "I got it." I pull out the big towel and lay it flat. Then some snacks, his favorites.
The swimsuit. I hold it out to him. He raises an eyebrow. "You want us to swim? At this hour?"
"There's a heatwave," I say, trying not to sound like I'm begging. "And it's my last chance to see you wet and shirtless."
He laughs.
"Come on, Ravioli. You literally just accepted my proposal, with a duck ring. You won't do this one tiny little favor for your husband?"
I hate that I'm using it as a joke. Because it's not. Not to me. Not when my heart feels like an ice cream scoop melting in a goddamn microwave.
Rava takes the swimsuit from my hand. He shakes his head, smiling. "Alright," he says softly. "Hand it over, mister husband."
I win. He slips on the swimsuit, and I'm just staring. No shirt, those sharp fucking collarbones, that tight little slutty waist. And that swimsuit? Low.
Pretty sure it was made by the gods for my eyes only. "Are you done staring?" he asks without even looking at me. "No," I say. "I'll die staring."
I pull on my own swimsuit in a daze, then walk up behind him and press my palm to his back. "Let's go, you sexy thing." I don't wait for a reply. I sprint forward and dive in.
2AM water is warmer than the 3PM water. When I come up, I shake my hair out, right at him. He flinches, gasps.
"If you do that again, I'll file for divorce," he says. I grin. I walk back toward him slowly. "Don't," he warns. "Don't what?" I ask, like I'm innocent.
I come behind him, grab his shoulders, and pull him down into the water.
We sink. And when we come up again, he's breathless, and his eyes are so angry it's hilarious. "I can't stand you," he says.
"You mean you can't stand seeing me outside of you."
He snorts, wipes water from his eyes.
"In your dreams, Fontana."
"I dream every night, Weston."
He rolls his eyes. "Get away from me."
"No."
"You're obsessed."
"With you? Obviously."
He splashes water at me. I splash back. Then we're chasing each other, soaked. He's begging me to stop but he's laughing at the same time. "Let's go lie down," I say, shaking water out of my hair. Rava squints down at the sand. "Eh. I'm gonna get sand on it from my feet."
"Tragic," I mutter, walking toward him.
I hook my arms under his thighs and lift him up onto my back. "PUT ME DOWN YOU'RE MAKING ME LOOK WEAK," he shouts.
"You're so dramatic," I grunt, adjusting my grip. "Just rinse your royal feet, Prince Sandphobic."
He actually does it. Dips his feet in the water like he's at a damn spa. "I'm literally carrying you like a bridal sacrifice," I say.
"You're not even doing it right, my ass is sliding."
"That's because your ass is heavy," I mutter.
I carry him all the way to the towel and drop him onto it gently. "There you go," I say, brushing sand off his calf.
Rava stretches out dramatically, smirking at me. "You're lucky you're hot. Otherwise I'd press charges."
I flop down next to him. "I'd let you win," I say. "Just to see your little courtroom victory face." He turns his head to look at me. "And then I'd demand conjugal visits."
"I'd bring lube to the trial."
He laughs. I love it when he laughs with my jokes.
We lie down side by side, still wet. I place my hands behind my head and stare up at the sky, the stars. Beside me, Rava shifts, then lays his head on my stomach.
"You comfy?" I murmur, raising an eyebrow even though he can't see me. He hums.
"Your abs make a surprisingly good pillow."
"Better enjoy them now," I say. "Might get softer while you're gone. I emotionally eat."
"Cool. I'll eat you emotionally when I come back." I chuckle. "That sounded weirdly hot." Rava grins without opening his eyes, his fingers are spreading across my stomach, and it's the most relaxing thing ever.
"Don't go falling asleep on me, Weston," I say, nudging him gently with my elbow.
"I'm not," he murmurs. "Just soaking this in." I'm stroking his hair gently. My thumb is brushing his forehead.
"I feel bad that my graduation is on October 26th…the same day as your birthday." I smile a little, still playing with his hair.
"It's okay. That day should be about you anyway."
He shifts. Lifts his head. Then turns to lie beside me, facing me. His eyes…
Oh no. His eyes are glassy.
My fingers stop. I sit up slowly. I wasn't expecting that look. Not now. "What are you thinking about?" I ask, already bracing for it.
"What are we going to do, Gio? Actually. What the fuck are we going to do?" His lips press together. "Are we going to break up?"
I stare at him, offended. "What—no?! Don't say that."
Shit.
I sit all the way up now, facing him completely. "Don't say that again." His eyes flicker. "Then how's it going to work?" His throat clenches. "Tell me how, Gio. Please."
I can't take it. I reach for him, grip his hands. "I have a plan. Okay? I wasn't going to tell you yet because it's not simple, but I do. Listen… I know someone who might be able to transfer you here. To Italy. Same program. Same everything."
Rava blinks hard. "What? Who the hell do you know that can do that?" I hesitate for a second. "An old connection. Not exactly a buddy. But I'll deal with it. I'll make it work. Whatever it takes, I swear. It's worth a shot."
I pull him into me. Hold him tightly. My hand cradles the back of his head. "Just promise me you won't fall for anyone else while you're gone," I whisper. "Promise me. I'll figure this out. And we'll be together again. For real. No ticking clock."
He sniffs and looks up at me with this crooked smile that both breaks me and puts me back together. "You better," he says.
"You fake proposed with a rubber duck ring. My expectations are dangerously high now." I laugh, but it's wobbly. Because yeah, sure, he's joking. But I'm so fucking serious.
I look at him. And I hate it. I hate that I can't stop time. I hate that I can't fix this now. That he's still thinking about the damn plane. So I try something else.
"I remember once," I say, brushing a hand through his hair again, "when we were little… I almost invited you to one of my birthday parties."
His head lifts from my chest. His eyes look like tennis balls. "WHAT?! Almost?"
He's so cute. I melt. Full fucking puddle. Right here on this towel. "Yeah, I was, ten, maybe? My mom made me write a list of names. And I actually wrote yours. First." I pause, then grin. "And then I panicked and erased it."
His jaw drops. "Gio!"
"I panicked!" I say, raising my hands like I'm still defending ten-year-old me.
"You were the stupidly smart kid. Quiet.
Always reading. And I was this loud little shit with grass stains on my knees and dirt under my nails that wouldn't stop making fun of you.
I thought no way he'd wanna come to my party. He's not that stupid."
Rava shakes his head in disbelief. "I would've gone, you idiot." I smirk. "Yeah, and I would've stared at you the whole time like a creep."
"You already did," he fires back, grinning. "I know," I say, softer now. "I always did." And in that moment, I'm ten again. And he's still that boy I couldn't stop watching.
And now, all these years later, he's here. "I have something for you," I say, reaching into my bag again. "I want you to take it with you. It's a little gift." He looks at me, confused but curious.
I pull out the notebook, a bit worn out around the edges. Literally my darkest secrets are now in his hands. I hand it to him carefully. He takes it but he looks hesitant.
"What is this?" he asks, eyebrows raising. "Is it full of all the insults you used to throw at me when we were kids?"
I laugh. "No. Though honestly, that would've been kind of cute." He looks at it again, then me. "Can I open it?"
"Nope." I shake my head fast. "Don't open it here. I want you to read it in Canada. I swear, if you open it in front of me, I'll evaporate. I'll vanish into the fucking ocean. It'll ruin my entire reputation."
He laughs, hugging it to his chest. "I'm scared now."
"You should be," I say, nudging him. "Let's just say that…you weren't the only one who used to keep a journal back in the day." His head snaps toward me, fast.
I'll have to check on his neck later.
"WHAT?! Gio Fontana kept a journal?!"
"I'm human too!" I protest. "I'm a soft little creature deep down. A good little guy. Stop acting like you didn't know!"
He's dying laughing now. "No no. I love this. You mean to tell me that while you were out being a menace on the playground, you were going home to—what? Write about your feelings?!"
"Feelings. Thoughts. Dreams. Vivid sexual fantasies about a certain someone. You know. Normal stuff."
He chokes. "Stop it right now."
I just smirk, stretching my arms behind my head, pretending to be casual while my heart is literally vibrating inside my chest. Because yeah, I gave him a piece of me. A big one.
And I want him to keep it safe over there.
Until I can get it back.