I smile. "And maybe…" he says, eyes meeting mine again, "maybeI missed you. Just a little bit. Maybe I thought about you. Sometimes. More than I wanted to." He lets his forehead rest against mine, and we stay like that, literally holding the same memory.
"I was annoying," I say after a while. "You don't have to lie to me." He chuckles. "You were. But you were also sweet. And smart. And apparently head-over-heels in love with me."
I groan and bury my face into his chest. He laughs harder, wrapping his arms around me. I get up without thinking.
I go to the desk, my old one, the one I've had since I was a kid, and start opening drawers. One after the other. I knowexactly what I'm looking for. I just I don't know if I'm ready to hold it again.
Gio watches from the bed but doesn't say anything until I finally pull it out. "Don't tell me…" he says. I turn around, walk over, and place it gently in his hand.
It's so small in his palm.
Just a messy little red motorcycle I made out of plastic and wire and hours of overthinking.
"Youkeptthis??"
I nod. "I don't know why. I guess I thought that maybe one day I'd give it to you. But I never thought you'd actually see it. Or take it."
He turns it over slowly.
"I was gonna give it to you that Monday," I say. "I really thought maybe if I gave it to you, you'd think I was cool. Like… not as boring as I looked." He smiles, but doesn't laugh. I sit down again, between his legs, and lean my head against his chest. His arms come around me naturally, and I let them. I let myself sink into the warmth of him, the safety. And then it hits me. It always does, at some point in the night.
That he's mine now. That Gio Fontana, the man who used to steal my pencils and make fun of my handwriting and give me way too many butterflies, is now mine.
He's my boyfriend.
I can just say that. Out loud. Gio is my boyfriend. If I want to kiss him, I can. If I want to tell him I love him, I can. And even if I don't say it, he knows. How does that make sense? How did the man I used to write about in a notebook with cartoon stickers become the person who kisses me goodnight now?
"I still can't believe it's you."
He kisses the top of my head.
"You're here," I murmur. "And you love me. And if I want to kiss you, I can just do it. I won't have to write 7 pages about me wanting to do it."
He squeezes me tighter.
I stay wrapped in him, wondering how something that once felt so impossible is suddenly the most real thing in my whole life.
39) I Need A Favor
Gio
Tomorrow is the day. Rava is leaving.
I wake up next to him. He's still asleep, with one hand tucked under his cheek. I'm gonna punch him. He is beautiful. Not just hot. Not just cute. Fucking beautiful.
Like, so beautiful it makes me wanna punch myself too. Like something out of a dream I never thought I'd be allowed to have. I look at him, and I can't help but think about that younger version of him, the cute tiny Rava with the shy smile and the oversized backpack and the huge green eyes that didn't knowhow to actually look mad. That kid would've been so happy to see this.
To see us.
To see that we made it here somehow, after everything. To know that he ended up in bed with someone who looks at him like this. Like I am right now.
But then the guilt creeps in. Because I haven't always been good to him. Hell, I've been awful more times than I want to count.
I've pushed him, scared him, broken him in ways I still don't understand how the fuck he forgave. And sometimes I wonder if he really forgave me.
Or if he just loves me so much he forgot how to stop. I reach out, trace his jaw with the back of my fingers. He doesn't move. God, even his face made it hard to stay mad.
Back then, that sweet little baby face he had, it used to piss me off how fast it made my anger fade. He'd look at me all wide-eyed and soft and I'd feel like the biggest fucking monster for yelling at him. Even when I was ten.
