Wewilldisappear.
The ache is too close to the surface. Then he finally looks up again, and his eyes are glassy.
"I should go, unfortunately." he says.
And I should let him. But instead, I step forward. Grab his wrist. Our lips meet somewhere betweenstayanddon't forget me. It's not rushed. It's very gentle.
The kind of kiss that says everything we don't know how to say. Like maybe this is home now. More than just sex or safety.
And that's what makes it hurt. When we break apart, we don't speak. He just squeezes my hand once, and leaves. The door shuts behind him.
And the key is no longer mine.
But I truly don't feel like I've lost something.
6) Fifteen Minutes
Rava
I have akeyto Gio Fontana's house.
I have a key toGio Fontana'shouse.
I have a key to Gio Fontana'shouse.
What the fuck am I supposed to do with this? I've opened and closed my palm at least twenty times, and it's still there.
Very much real.
I'm losing it. Because he gave it to me. Casually. Like it was nothing. Who does that?! I'm pacing. I'm sweating. I'm smiling like an idiot. I'm losing my goddamn mind.
Because what the hell am I supposed to do, walk in and say:"Hey. I know we're just hooking up and you don't love me or whatever, but…surprise! I have a key to your place?"
Or maybe:
"Hi. I think I might be secretly, stupidly, desperately in love with you but I can't tell you because if I do you'll panic and run before I get the chance to leave first?"
Cool. Chill. Totally fine. I rest my forehead against my room door. I think I'm laughing? Or maybe crying? I'm both. Probably both. I mean, imagine telling eleven-year-old me, awkward little me, still figuring shit out, that one day I'd have a key to the house of the hottest, rudest, most infuriatingly perfect guy I've ever met.
Who also happens to be the best sex I’ve ever had. And the reason I can't sleep right anymore. Even though he used to mock me nonstop. And my dad hates him. And he has a literal criminal record.
But still, every time I see him, it feels like watching an angel who is surrounded by awful people. I mean…It's a key. It opens his door. His place. The one where he sleeps. Where he showers.
Where he exists when he's not with me, pretending we're not something we absolutely fucking are. And now I can go in.
I could walk in, see his jacket on the back of a chair, hear his playlist playing in some other room. That should scare me. Itdoesscare me. But I'm also…God, I'm so happy about it. And that's the worst part. I should be panicking.
I am panicking. But underneath it there's this…hum. I shake my head, laugh under my breath, and finally pull myself together.
The real world's still spinning. We have a meeting. I'm supposed to look professional.
Composed.
…
I look up and I see Gio enter the room in a black button-up. Sleeves rolled just enough to show the tattoos on his forearms. His trousers are dark. Black hair slicked back but a little undone. Sharp jawline. That chain glinting against his throat.
He looks like the kind of man people lie for.
