Rava
I’m dressed for the final meeting.
Navy blue shirt, light fabric. Glasses fixed, collar adjusted, back straight.
This is actually the last meeting.
And I’m actually leaving in less than two weeks. This isn’t how I thought my summer would go.
I thought I’d spend it reading lesson plans. Definitely not falling in love with an annoying, impossible, broken but sweet man who somehow makes me feel more whole than I ever have.
And yeah, it would’ve been even better if my dad didn’t have so much venom inside him. But… whatever.
I’m still glad I came. No, I’msofucking glad I came.
I spot his key on my desk. His key. Mine for now. I smile like an idiot as I pick it up and slip it into my pocket. Then I remember something. I open the cabinet.
There, tucked behind a stack of half-used notebooks, is the old one. My journal.
The one I started when I was little, when all Gio was to me was a problem I couldn’t figure out.
I have two. I flip the first one open.
The last entry reads:"Gio said my shirt looked stupid and childish. He also wore sunglasses indoors today. Again. (Friday)"
I snort. Yeah. Sounds about right.
Then I grab a pen. Scrawl quickly beneath it:
"He told me he loves me. (Tuesday)"
I close the journal. Put it back. Try to ignore how warm my face feels. I check myself once in the mirror, then make my way down the stairs. Mom is in the kitchen, humming to herself, her back to me.
I walk up and wrap my arms around her. "I’m going to see Gio. I’ll be right back."
"Wait," she says, turning around. She holds out a bowl. Wrapped in foil. I blink. "Are you trying to make him gain weight or what?"
She laughs. I grin, shake my head. "He’s going to cry when he sees this." She nods toward the door, then pauses.
"Tell Gio I’m sorry…for last night. I feel awful." I look at her. The way her eyes soften at the sound of his name.
"You’re the best mom," I whisper. "Thank you." I kiss her cheek and walk out into the sun, bowl in hand. I slip the key into the lock, quietly push the door open, and step into Gio’s house.
His scent hits me instantly. God, it’s so addictive. I leave my shoes near the entrance and head upstairs. The bedroom door is cracked open. He isn’t inside. But Lulu is.
She’s curled in the middle of Gio’s unmade bed. I grin, set the bowl of pies down on his desk, and walk over to her.
"Hey, queen," I whisper, scooping her up into my arms. She blinks lazily, nuzzles my jaw. "Brought you tribute. I mean, technically it’s for your human, but let’s be real,yourun this household."
I hear the door creak behind me. I turn, and nearly choke. Gio is standing there, toothbrush still in his mouth, blinking at me with those half-awake eyes. His black hair is a mess, sticking out in every direction.
No shirt. Just a pair of low-slung, grey sweatpants, and I meanlow. So low I can almost see the start of that damn tattoo. The one that makes my brain turn off.
My eyes stay there for a second too long.
He smirks, pulls the toothbrush out of his mouth. "You gonna help me brush or are you just planning to stare all day?"
"I wasn’t—shut up." He starts laughing, walking toward the sink. Lulu wiggles in my arms like she’s embarrassed for me. I clear my throat, still warm in the face. Speak directly to the cat.
