He gives me the flattest look imaginable.
I grin wider. "What, you three gonna sit in a circle and talk about your feelings over iced tea? Damn, Rava, you know how to live."
"At least we don’t spend our time dodging cops or selling coke to undergrads," he snaps.
Oof.
Right in the lifestyle.
"You done judging, Ravioli, or do you want a ride to church next?"
He doesn’t answer. He clears his throat.
"They’re waiting for me. I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll text you before I come to your place for Sophia’s thing."
I nod once, leaning back against the bike.
"Yeah, yeah." I wave him off lazily.
"Go enjoy your little butter-walk."
He freezes. "...My what?"
I shrug.
He rolls his eyes so hard I swear he almost pulls a muscle.
"Bye, Gio."
"Later."
I rev the engine just once as he turns, to watch him flinch.
Worth it.
32) Sure, baby
Rava
Next Day
I stand by the wall with my arms crossed, regretting every second of thinking that Noah’s idea was actually good.
Gio is getting dressed.
That’s a lie.
He’spretendingto get dressed. In reality, he’s shirtless again, flexing his body every two seconds.
Chest. Arms. Back. Veins. Tattoo on tattoo on tattoo.
Okay, we get it.
You’re built like a Greek god and your biceps have their own zip code. Enough. He shoots me this slow smirk over his shoulder.
"Come on, Ravioli. Admit it. You wanna touch it."
I look at him like he slaps me. "Why would I want to touch it?!" I snap. "I had a girlfriend like… a couple of days ago."
