God, I’m worried.
I hate that he hasn’t replied to my messages. Hate that I don’t know what happened with his mom. My eyes keep flicking up to him between words. He’s sitting too still. Then he does something.
Something small. Almost nothing. He scratches his jaw with the back of his hand, and that’s when I notice it.
His fingers. Covered in ink, but not the kind from a pen. It takes me a second to realize… it’s from drawing. No way. He’s drawn something on his hand.
A small sketch.
I try to see it better without being obvious. Lean just a little forward. And then he looks up. Catches me. My heart jumps like I’m sixteen again. He doesn’t smile. Just raises his brow slightly.
Like: Yeah? So I mouth:"What’s that on your hand?"
He looks down, as if he’s forgotten. Then turns his hand subtly, just enough for me to see. A tiny sketch of a beach. A little umbrella. A weird, crooked crab. It looks exactly like the one Emiliana, the kid from the beach, had drawn in the sand yesterday.
He’s cute. I almost laugh.
Right in the middle of the damn meeting. He sees that. And finally, GOD finally, he gives me the tiniest smile. I look down fast. Try to hide the grin tugging at my mouth.
But suddenly, his mom starts coughing.
The second I hear her cough, I freeze. It’s not a normal cough. It sounds sharp.
Wet.
I grip the side of my chair without even realizing.
Gio is already on his feet, one hand on her back, steadying her as she waves him off. "I'm fine," she says. Gio stays standing. I stand too. She coughs again.
This time—oh my God.
Blood.
Everything stops. People gasp. A chair scrapes.
Gio is moving fast, wrapping his arm around her, lifting her out of the chair. "Hospital," he says to her. "Now." She doesn’t even argue. Just leans into him.
My mom stands up instantly and follows them. So do I. My father’s hand grips my arm. "Sit down," he hisses. "They’ve got it handled."
I don’t even think. "Let me go." I yank my arm out of his grip and bolt. Down the stairs. Three at a time. I don’t care. I’malready out of breath by the time I hit the street, and they’re just reaching Gio’s bike.
He’s trying to hold his mom up and dig in his pocket for the keys at the same time. His hands are shaking.
"You can’t take her on a damn bike!" I shout, running over. "What if she passes out mid-drive?!"
He looks at me, completely panicked, like he hasn’t thought of that until now. His jaw clenches. "Then what do I do?!"
"Car," I snap. "Take a car—"
"Whose?!"
"Mine!"
"No, fuck—" Then my mom steps in, holding out the keys. "Rava. Take them. Go. Just drive." I stare at her.
She trusts me. She’s letting me. I hug her.
So fast I almost knock her back. Kiss her cheek. "Thank you," I whisper. Gio does the same. A second later we’re in the car.
