That Jerk Luca
What the fuck?
Super Bossy Bitch
hahahahahaha balls
Shit. Okay, back to business. Leaving my phone on the table, I try to focus.
I’m decent at bowling. Not as good as I am at stuff like darts and billiards and shooting and poker… but still good. Bowling is one thing that Lil’s better at, but we’re both absolute trash at it when we’re drunk. After three or four or ninety-seven games, we give up and sit on the floor, eating licorice, refilling our cups from the second bottle of vodka soda, and giggling about random shit.
The sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs has us freezing as we stare at each other. We both jump when the door opens.
“Shit, I almost pissed myself!” Lil yells at Luca before flopping sideways. “Issa good thing there’s a bathroom down here.” She slurs as she gets up and stumbles barefoot to it.
I grin at Luca, but he scowls back. My lips fall into a pout. Party pooper.
“Oh no, it’s the fun police.” Drunk Ariana’s got jokes, folks! I even point my finger in the air, spin it around, and do an impression of a siren.
Luca storms over to me, his eyes burning into my soul. Fuck, he’s mad. He crouches and snags my drink out of my hand.
“Hey,” I cry out and reach for it. I miss horribly and wobble, barely keep myself upright. He wraps those full lips around the straw, taking a sip and cringing at the taste. Asshole. I’m a great make-drinker. Wait. Drink-maker. Yeah, that’s the thing I am. A great drink-maker.
“Fucking hell, Ariana. This is basically just alcohol. How much of this shit did you drink tonight?”
Dragging my eyes from his lips, I turn away and shrug.
He grabs my chin forcefully but not painfully, making me look at him. Damn, that’s hot as hell. I don’t know what he sees, but he looks somewhere between sad and pissed. “Way fucking more than you should. Why?”
“Why do you care?” I poke my finger in his chest with every word, making an effort to say each word clearly. God, it’s hard to keep my eyes open.
“Because I fucking care about you, Ari. So damn much.”
My forehead crinkles. “Youuuu never callme that.”
“Do you not want me to call you that?” He gets a cute little wrinkle between his eyes when he’s confused.
My eyelids drift closed, and I drag in a rough breath. “I don’t care what you call me, Luca. I just want you to see me,” I beg.
I hear Lil stumble out of the bathroom. Luca sighs and stands. “Okay, you’re both drunk as shit and in the fucking basement, so I’m dealing with you one at a time. Ari, stay here. Don’t fucking move.” Even with my eyes closed, I can feel him point a finger at me, and I laugh. Maybe I’m psychic! “Do you understand?” He’s using his bossy babysitter voice. Damn it, bossy Luca is so hot.
“Yes, sir.” I mock salute. He mumbles something and leads Lil out the door. It’ll be a few minutes before he comes back for me since our wing is about as far from here as you can get. I kick off my bowling shoes and crawl over to the table to pull myself up. Luca thinks he can tell me what to do, and I’m just going to listen? Fuck that. Fuck that so fucking much. Fuck it with a fucking… I can’t remember where I was going with that. Oh well. Lil’s cup isn’t empty, so I finish it off. I’m drinking the last of the vodka soda straight out of the bottle when Luca grabs it.
“Jesus,” he grumbles. He’s so damn grumbly.
“Here? Where? Are yousure it’s him?” I look around but see no Jesus. Bummer. “I didn’t hearyou come in. Are you taking ninja lessons?”
I reach for the bottle, but he holds it far, far away with his long, muscle-y arms. “You’re mean,” I pout.“Connard.”
“Call me an asshole in whatever language you want. It doesn’t hurt my feelings one bit.”
I huff and wrack my brain hard. “Stonzo. Arschloch. Oaschloch. Trou du cul.”
“Are you done?”
“Oh,va te faire foutre.”
“Haven’t heard that one yet.”
