I swear every time I finally calm down, he has to open his mouth and say something that launches me straight back into rage.
It’s like he’s allergic to my peace.
"Shut up, asshole."
He snorts, flipping through another handful of pictures. I watch him for a second longer, then frown.
"What are you even looking for?" I ask, pressing my palms to my cheeks to make myself comfortable.
"Photo of me and my dad. I know it’s here somewhere. The rest of this is just… old crap."
I lean over, curiosity getting the better of me. The photos are mostly faded, warm-toned, clearly years old. Birthdays. Family trips. Parties I definitely wasn’t invited to.
"I’ve got some of you in here," Gio says casually, tossing one stack aside. I snap my head toward him.
"Where?"
Before he can answer, he pulls one out and suddenly bursts out laughing.
Oh no. He found a picture of me.
And judging by the expression on his face, it’s definitely not a good photo. "What? What is it? Let me see."
He holds it out of reach, laughing harder now.
"Damn, I forgot you had braces and blue glasses. That’s a crime."
"Give it to me!" I lunge toward him, grabbing for the picture. "No way! This is gold."
"Gio, give it." I reach across, but he leans back on the bed, holding the photo above his head like a goddamn trophy.
I climb up after it, practically on top of him now. He keeps twisting, dodging, blocking me with one arm while he laughs like a maniac.
"You’re such a little shit," I hiss, reaching for his hand.
"Try harder," he grins.
I do. He raises his arm higher, right out of reach. So I shove myself upward, and my palm lands right on his chest.
I stretch further, literally hovering over his pants. My fingers graze the edge of the photo, and then suddenly, I’m on my back.
Gio flips us in one fluid movement.
My head hits the mattress, and he’s above me, pinning both my wrists against my chest with one hand.
The photo is nowhere in sight now.
Well. This was definitely not part of the plan.
Annoyance shoots through me instantly. Mainly because he’s using his physical strength against me. He’s so close it literally feels illegal.
So close that if our families walked in, they would both pass out, wake up, scream, and pass out again. His face is so close I can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. The room goes still.
My heart starts pounding so loud I can’t even hear myself think. "Let me go," I say.
He tilts his head, with a lazy smirk. "Why? You look good under me. You look pretty."
Pretty. I freeze like an idiot.
