Very pretty.
And yeah, obviously sexy. I'm not blind. But not scary.
He catches me staring and instead of saying anything he just flicks me in the middle of the forehead.
I flinch. "Ow—"
Okay. I take it all back.
Everything nice I just thought about him?
Cancelled.
I smack him lightly on the side of the head in revenge. He laughs and leans in, giving me a quick kiss. He pulls back like nothing happened, going back to spreading cream on my face. He smirks, out of nowhere, and talks in a fake version of my voice."You have to massage it upwards. It activates the skin barrier."
I blink. "Dude. Idon'tsound like that."
"Yes, you do," he says, grinning. "And I love it."
My whole body freezes. He doesn't even notice what he said. He just keeps rubbing the cream in like it’s nothing. But it isn't nothing. Not to me. My brain kind of shuts down. Because right then, everything clicks…
I love him.
I'm sure now. I actually love Gio Fontana. It's chaos. It's all-consuming. It's already living inside me. And with him right there on his knees, lips inches from mine…
I want to fall into him.
I want to scream it so badly. But I don’t. I just stare. Silently. Dear God, I love this mansomuch.
And someday, when it finally slips out of my mouth, I just hope I'm not too late.
12) What Happened Last Night
Gio
Fuck. My entire body feels like it has been dragged through sand, then microwaved for five minutes. My skull is splitting in three distinct directions, and my mouth tastes like I've made out with an ashtray and then chased it with tequila.
I don't just feel like shit, I feel like someoneelse'sshit. I need to stop testing my limits like I'm some sexy invincible party god.
I'm not. I'm twenty-three and I feel seventy-three right now.
What the fuck.
And to top it off, I can't move. Because there is a whole-ass human blanket on top of me. Rava. Pressed chest to chest.
Leg thrown over mine. Arm across my stomach. Head buried in the crook of my neck like I'm his goddamn pillow.
And Jesus Christ, the guy is overheating. A few strands of his hair have stuck to my collarbone, a bit damp from the heat. I’m melting. But instead of pushing him off, I let out a quiet groan and tilt my head just enough to breathe. He looks too peaceful.
Too comfortable. His whole body molded into mine.
So…yeah. I don't move. I turn my head slightly, careful not to disturb the furnace clinging to me, and spot Lorenzo. Half off the bed, one leg dangling in the void, one sock gone, a trail of god-knows-what down his shirt.
He looks like a medieval painting of "Μan vs Τequila." Then, further across, I catch sight of Noah, barely alive, hunched over the table, eyes half-closed, sipping coffee.
I raise my arm and point to the air conditioner on the wall. "Turn it on. I'm dying over here."
Noah looks up, blinks, and snorts quietly.
