Mostly Gio, unfortunately. His words.
I should’ve been with her. We could’ve already been at the beach by now. Swimming, laughing, just… being together.
Or even something simple.
Me on the balcony with a good book, eating cold watermelon, sipping iced lemonade, definitely not pretending to care about business strategies or "future partnerships."
But no. I went to the damn meeting. Not because I wanted to. Because I don’t want to disappoint my family.
Because it matters to them.
Because I fucking try for everything.
And Gio? He ditches it. Just like that. To go make out with some random person at some random beach bar. He wastes my time with his constant games, and now he’s trying to mess with the one thing that actually makes sense in my life.
He lies about Sophia. I’m sure of it.
I know her. I know what we have. She made a mistake, yes, but people do that, right? She reaches out because she realized it.
Because we’re real. We’re going to fix it together.
She wouldn’t send him those kinds of messages.
And even if she did… no.
No.
Gio’s just… Gio. That’s what he does. Pushes buttons.
Throws bombs just to watch things burn. But this isn’t funny. It’s not some dumb game. I’m mad at him. Really mad.
Not because he’s wild or unpredictable, I’ve always known that. But because he doesn’t care what damage he leaves behind. He doesn’t care what it costs me.
He turns everything into chaos just because he can. And I’m not letting him ruin this.
Not this time. Not Sophia.
I pull out my phone, stare at the screen for a second, then put it back in my pocket. No. I’m not letting Gio’s voice be the one I listen to today. I have better things to do.
I pull open the drawer and grab my swimsuit, dark blue, simple, nothing flashy. Ihatethe ones with logos all over them.
I throw a towel over my shoulder, grab my slides from under the bed, and toss some sunscreen and water into my bag. As I turn toward the mirror on the opposite wall, I pause.
I’m not one of those guys who stare at themselves for hours, flexing or whatever.
But I look.
My body is alright. Broad shoulders. Defined back. I worked for that. Not obsessively, but consistently.
Swimming helps.
Walking everywhere helps.
I like feeling strong without needing toproveI’m strong.
And then there’s my waist, noticeably narrower than my upper body. It always makes shirts fit weird, like they don’t know which part of me to commit to.
Some people like it. Say it gives me a "nice shape." Whatever that means. But a few girls in the past… they laughed. Not cruelly.
