Not only because he hit him, but because he thought he had the right. He thought he could put his hands on him and walk away like it meant nothing.
My hands are still, resting on my thighs, but fuck me, they feel like they could crush stone. I clear my throat, soft.
"Rava, can I ask you something?" He glances over, eyes still on the road. "Shoot."
"I don’t mean this in a bad way," I mumble, watching the passing trees. "Or maybe I do. But seriously… how the fuck is your mom with him?"
He doesn’t answer. I keep going.
"I mean, she’s sweet. Lovely. She actually gives a shit. She makes pies. She talks to me like I’m not a lost cause. She’s a great person."
Still nothing. I turn to him.
"And then there’s Charles, whose entire personality is ‘I hate joy.’ And I’m just…" I pause. "I’m trying to figure out how someone likehimmade someone likeyou…"
He exhales through his nose. Real slow.
"Genetic lottery."
I snort.
"Well. At least he got a son who’sreallygood at riding," I mutter.
He turns his head halfway to glare at me. "…Shut up."
I grin. He keeps driving.
Doesn’t say a word for a moment. Then he gasps.
"We should fuck on your bike."
I choke. "Jesus—"
I stare at him, genuinely impressed. "Wow."
He smirks like he’s just unlocked a new level. I lean back into the seat, nodding. "I’m proud of you. Look at you. You’re actually learning."
He shakes his head, biting back a smile.
"I hate that you’re enjoying this."
"Impossible not to," I say, reaching to rest my hand on his thigh. "You’re so hot when you’re filthy, Ravioli."
He groans. "You’re impossible."
"You already said that tonight."
"I meant it then. I mean it now." We both laugh.
"Noah would be so fucking proud of you and me right now," Rava says suddenly, smiling like he’s still replaying everything from earlier.
I smirk. "Oh, he’d be insufferable. He’d scream, cry, record a voice memo, post a story, would probably get a ‘FINALLY’ tattoo across his chest."
Rava laughs. "He’d say something like, ‘My boys did it. My beautiful, emotionally constipated lovebirds finally pulled their heads out of their asses!’"
"You forgot the other one. Dysfunctional. He loves calling us dysfunctional."
"Because we are," Rava shoots back, glancing at me with raised brows. For a second, I just look out the window. Then I turn my head a little. "You know what’s insane?" I say.
