"I did not."
"You did."
"Did not."
"Youdid," I grin. "You’re laughing now."
"I’m having a nervous breakdown."
"Whatever makes you feel better, Ravioli." He shoves me lightly in the shoulder, but he’s still smiling. We pass a stand selling wine in plastic cups.
Cheap, probably terrible, but Rava looks excited. He grabs one, tosses back a full gulp like it’s water.
I blink. "Holy shit."
He turns to me, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, shrugs like it’s nothing.
I blink again. "Whoareyou?"
He smirks. "You said I needed to loosen up."
I hold up both hands. "Didn’t say I want you to self-destruct." He just walks past me, still drinking, eyes scanning the crowd, looking for his next bad idea.
So of course, I decide to help.
I dart toward a random drink stand. I grab the most neon-looking concoction they have. It’s in a small cup with fruit on top and some kind of chili-rimmed edge that screams "ew."
I turn back to him, raise it high.
"RAVIOLI! TRY THIS!"
He looks over, skeptical as hell.
I jog toward him. "It’s amazing," I shout, trying to be louder than the music. "Trust me!"
He gives me that look again. I’m pretty sure he knows I’m full of shit. He takes the cup, holds it up, sniffs it, wrinkles his nose. "What is it?"
"Liquid heaven, trust me," I say while dancing to the rhythm of "NUEVAYoL" by "Bad Bunny."
He narrows his eyes. "Gio, what’sinthis?" he yells.
"Doesn’t matter!" I shout, spinning around him. "If it doesn’t kill you, it fixes your mood!"
He sniffs it again, looks at me like he’s considering throwing it at my head. "Drink iiiit!" I chant.
He takes one big sip…
Cough. Gag. Spit. Right on the ground. He doubles over, coughing. His eyes scream "betrayal."
I completely lose it. I fall back against a pole, dying. I can’t breathe. I’m wheezing, bent over, face in my hands.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" he shouts, wiping his mouth.
"You drank it!" I gasp.
"Because you told me to!"
"Because you finally listen to me! I didn’t expect it to work!" I yell back.
