I flop back onto the pillow, phone resting on my chest, staring at the ceiling as a weird little laugh escapes me.
"Rava Weston, you better be ready in half an hour. We’re going to the office." My mother yells from downstairs.
"Oh fuck me in the ass," I mutter, dragging the pillow over my face like it can suffocate the memory of last night.
Of course it can’t. It all comes rushing back.
The lights. The spinning ride. The goddamn laughter.
Andhim.
Of all people. Of all the possible versions of stupid decisions I could’ve made while buzzed and emotionally vulnerable, I had to pickhim.
Why did I even go with him? Why did I laugh like that?! Who told me to have fun?? Who gave permission???
I press my palms into my eyes. I can’t believe I did that in front of Gio.
Gio. The man who literally wakes up every morning ready to bully me recreationally. What possessed me to scream in his face while the ride was throwing us around?
Why did I let him see me with my hair looking like a fried broom after that wind??
GOD.
And the worst part? He saw me happy.
He saw me comfortable. He saw me laughing, not the polite "hehe" laugh.
No.
The full demon cackle, ugly scrunched nose and all. I never laugh like that around him. Because he notices everything. Every weakness. Every crack.
And now he has ammunition. I roll onto my side and groan into the pillow again.
Why did it have to be Gio Fontana?
Why not anyone else? A stranger? A random tourist?
No.
It had to be him. Because apparently I’m cursed. And now I have to see him again today, with the memory of me dancing off-beat to Bad Bunny and drinking God-knows-what he shoved into my hand.
It was the desperation. That’s all.
The drinks, the music, the stupid,stupidnostalgia. And it’s not happening again.
He gets to me because I’m vulnerable. Because heknowsI am vulnerable.
He takes one look at me and thinks,easy target. Drags me to that hellhole of fried food and neon lights, pumps me full of beer.
Fucking Gio, man. Human chaos with piercings.
If temptation had a middle finger and a Ducati, it would look like him. Next time he tries to "cheer me up," I’m spiking his drink with holy water.
I finish showering and wrestle with my tie. I drag a comb through my disaster of a hair. I look more like a human now. The headache is still knocking behind my eyes.
I descend the stairs slowly, adjusting my tie. In the kitchen, chaos is already served. Jin and Daisy sit at the table, halfway through breakfast.
Dad sits at the head of the table, suited, completely ignoring the madness as he reads the newspaper
