GIO:
-Bold of you to assume i fear God. I’m trying to delete it. I can’t.
ME:
-The fuck you mean trying?!
GIO:
-My thumb keeps missing the button.
ME:
-You’re unbelievable.
GIO:
-You’re beautiful.
I stop. I drop the phone. I fall backwards onto the bed and just lie there. I’m done. I’m deceased. I’m in the arms of Jesus now.
I’m leaving Italy.
Bonus Scene!
(This time, Gio’s POV)
Gio
The ceiling is moving. I swear on my bike, it’s moving.
No way rum makes things tilt like that. Either the house is drunk with us… or I’m dying. I rub my face hard, like that’ll help.
Paulo is sprawled on the floor across from me, laughing at absolutely nothing.
"Bro, we’re so pathetic right now," he wheezes.
I start laughing too, even though I’m not sure why. I rub my eyes again. "You’re a bad influence. I’m never bringing you over again."
"YOU’RE the bad influence, we are fried because of your fucking rum," he fires back.
I let my head fall back against the wall.
I could eat some fries now.
"What time is it?" he asks, staring at the ceiling.
I grab my phone. The second I go to tap the screen, he sends something.
Rava.
And I accidentally open it.
Oh, great. Now it’s gonna look like I was sitting here all night, phone in hand, desperately waiting for his message like some dog waiting for its owner to come home.
He sent… a photo?!
I open it.
