Gio starts laughing. His eyes stay on me.
I don't look away. But I don't say it.
I don't tell him what really happened. That my father actually slapped me. That I stood there, stunned, while my mother didn’t say a word.
Because Gio would feel something. And I can already see the flicker of tension behind his smirk. So I keep it light.
"I thought he was gonna throw me off the damn balcony."
We both laugh at my joke, but holy shit.
The way he's looking at me, and the way I'm looking back, is not funny at all.
The whole mood shifts.
His eyes stay on mine a little too long, while mine don't move away fast enough.
And suddenly I feel warm.Verywarm.
Maybe it's the beer. It has to be the beer.
My face feels hot for no reason. My brain starts throwing up thoughts I'm not ready for. Stupid thoughts.
Like hm, what it would be like to kiss him up here without an audience. With no plan, no fake story, no "helping."
Just because I want to. Just because why not.
I take another sip just to have something to do, but it doesn't help.
He leans closer. "What do you think they'd do if they saw me... touch you here?"
His fingers trail up the inside of my forearm.
Probably drag us straight to a quick public decapitation, I think.
Clean cut. Fast. No time to scream.
And maybe it would be worth it.
"Or," he continues, the ghost of a smile on his lips, "if I kissed you again... properly this time. Tongue and teeth and all. In front of everyone."
Yeah. That one would earn us the slow decapitation.
Extra dramatic. Let us suffer a little first.
And maybe that would be worth it too.
I know I should wake up and do something. Say something.
Push him away, remind him of fathers and companies and contracts and everything waiting to crush us on the ground floor.
I should stop him. I know I should. But I literally can't.
My body just refuses to cooperate.
His hand moves higher.
From my side... to my ribs.
