-Tell them you’re out with friends.
-We’re going somewhere, and I want you with me.
-Don’t make me wait, Ravioli.
My entire body goes up in flames. I just sit there and stare at the screen.
He wants me with him.
Out.
We actually got here. Spain isn’t a glitch in my brain, then. It isn’t some holiday fever dream I made up because I’m touch-starved and obsessed. We reallydidchange there.
We came back different, and now it shows in three lines on my phone. And a few hickeys on my neck.
I feel my mouth tug up before I even realize I’m smiling.
3) That’s His Boyfriend
Rava
I sneak out the back door like a criminal.
Honestly, I don’t think I’d bethisdramatic if I was meeting an actual murderer. For the love of God. Look at this.
Look at what I have to do just to go out with the person I actually want to be with. All because he’s got a dick and muscles and can’t get pregnant.
All because he’s a man.
As I get closer to his place, I spot him already on his bike. Of course he’s in all black. Obviously. He’s got his cheeks resting in his palms, elbows propped on the tank.
My Gio.
He spots me and instantly gets off the bike.
"Okay, meeting up is definitely going to be—" I don’t even finish the thought. His hand is already on my jaw and his tongue is in my mouth like my personal space never existed.
I jolt, a small surprised laugh slipping out against his lips, but my body catches up real fast. I grab his face with both hands and kiss him back with everything I’ve got.
His palm is at my waist, dragging me closer when there is literally no closer left. "Hey," he mumbles into my mouth, still kissing me. I laugh, staring at his stupid perfect face.
"Hi. You look ugly, Giovanni." He smirks and kisses me again like that’s the best compliment he’s ever received.
"You taste nice," he says, giving me one more soft kiss before turning back to the bike. He reaches for the second helmet, then comes back and stops right in front of me. "Where are your glasses?" he asks, squinting at my face like something’s missing.
"I put contacts in… They don’t work well with the helmet. I don’t wanna break them."
He nods like this is averyserious issue.
"Fair. But when you’re sucking my dick, I want them on."
I swear I actually die for a second. How does he say stuff like that so easily?? And why does it sound so hot coming from him and so tragic in my head when I even think about talking like that?
Maybe it’s the confidence. I need more of that.
"Freak," I mutter, smiling. He just grins and starts settling the helmet over my head. "When are you gonna let me put the helmet on by myself?" I ask, looking at him through the visor. I don’t even know why I’m asking.
I like it when he does it.
