-Where the hell are you?
-Did the cops finally get you?
The typing bubble appears.
GIO:
-I’m with someone. Doing unholy things.
-Can’t come. Wish me luck.
I roll my eyes.
ME:
-You’re disgusting. Literally rotting.
-You’re missing a very important discussion. Your loss.
GIO:
-Just say you miss me, angel.
I send a middle finger. I should ignore him. Focus on the speaker droning on about legacy and responsibility. But Gio isn’t done.
GIO:
-Btw you good?
-Cuz your little girlfriend kinda sexted me last night.
-Either that or she’s really damn generous with compliments.
My stomach drops. "Bathroom," I mutter to my mom.
I speed-walk. Then run. I slam the door shut, lock it, press my back against it. This can’t be real.
If he’s joking, I’m killing him.
If he’s not, I’m killing him louder.
ME:
-What are you talking about?
-What messages?
-Does she even have your number?!
-You’re making this up. We are meeting today. We’re fixing things.
GIO:
-Wow. Fixing things?
-Bold of her to multitask like that.
ME:
