Ears. Eyebrow.
Even the bottom lip, ouch.
I barely have time to process the sheer audacity of this guy before Gio’s mom stands up to greet him.
Huh.
Gio’s mom, stood up to greet the guy that… looks like he’s in his twenties, oh my God no. No. No, no, no the fuck she didn’t.
The man beside her stands up too.
"Welcome, Giovanni. Though you’re late."
No.
How. There’s no fucking way. I swear I left him in Spain. Last update I had, Gio Fontana was miles away, busy being loud and annoying in another country. But no. No, it’s real. Too real.
"Shameless, filthy boy," my father tells my mother.
She doesn’t respond, she just gives him a side-eye.
My survival instinct kicks in.
Bathroom. Go to the bathroom. Hide. Say you’re dying. Anything. I’m getting the hell out of here, but before I can even move, my mother grabs my wrist. Her fingers squeeze. She smiles like nothing’s wrong. I let her drag me back into my seat.
I turn to her. "Why didn’t you tell me this asshole was gonna be here?" She doesn’t answer.
Instead, she gets up to shake his hand. And I have to sit there boiling, while she greets him. No escape.
I look at him again. Is that… Gio?! Now that he’s closer, yeah. It’s him. The single most unbearable person I have ever met. He has that very specific fake-ass smile, the corners way too sharp, like it’s carved in with a knife.
Yup. That’s Gio. Unfortunately.
And then he looks at me. His gaze settles. His expression is completely unreadable.
And then, because he is physically incapable of not being an insufferabledick, he reaches out a hand, acting like this is the first time we’re meeting.
"What’s your name?"
This bitch.
I let out a disbelieving laugh before I can stop myself.
"Oh,come on."
My mother’s elbow catches my side.
I force down the pure fucking irritation burning through me and exhale through my nose.
"It’s me, Rava Weston."
He gasps. His eyebrows lift, and then… he laughs.
Why does nobody ever tell him to shut up?! Why am I the only one suffering here?
"It’s Ravioli!" he says. "No fucking way."
I want to strangle him. His mother swallows hard, clearly tense. Gio, on the other hand, doesn’t seem fazed at all. He just gives me one last look and then drops into the empty chair across from me. My mom leans in, whispering, "Rava, please don’t make it a thing. Not now."
