"Yeah," I say, still looking at Gio.
"There were moments I really thought I'd tell him to stop. But he kept asking if I could take a little more and..." I shrug. "Turns out I could."
He coughs. He's dying.
"We had to take a lot of breaks, though. He said I was too tense. Needed time to breathe before he went back in."
Lorenzo throws his hands up.
"Okay, message received. I don't even know why I asked or what I thought you were gonna say."
I laugh under my breath.
I like this. I like messing with Gio's head a little. He's not the only one allowed to play games and make me feel things I'm not ready to admit. Two can play this game, and I'm going to hit him exactly where it hurts.
"Put your swimsuit on, pretty boy," Lorenzo says, tossing his towel onto his bed. "I'll wait for you."
I nod and head into the bathroom. I strip and pull on my swim trunks, run my fingers through my hair. I can still feel Gio's stare on my back like a ghost.
I hate it. I hate how much I don't hate it.
When I come back out, Lorenzo's waiting at the door.
He grabs my shoulder again, squeezing playfully. Then he turns and throws a look over his shoulder at Gio, who's slouched on the bed, pretending not to watch.
"Don't wait up, cousin," Lorenzo says, grinning.
"I'm off to rub sunscreen on your husband's beautiful back and steal the hearts of beautiful Spanish women and men. Catch you later."
Before Gio can say a word, he pulls the door open, shoves me out into the hallway with him, and slams it shut behind us. I'm wondering if Gio's burning a hole through the door right now with the way he looked at me.
Lorenzo slings an arm around my shoulders.
"Come on, Rava," he says, laughing.
"Let's go make Spain fall in love with us."
We step outside.
Lorenzo immediately sprints ahead and yelps. Of course he goes out barefoot on tiles that feel like an oven tray.
He does this little hopping dance and then practically dives to stick his feet in the pool.
What a strange man. Genuinely.
I follow slower.
My cheeks are already hot and it's not just from the heat.
Because now I remember. I remember everything this strange guy knows about me.
God.
He knows I want his cousin to ride me.
He knows that in my free time my brain goes on loops about Gio's v-line.
He knows that while I act like Gio gets on my nerves, when I'm alone I replay us making out against a wall until it turns into rough, messy sex in my head.
