“She dropped in to have some paperwork signed, and Dad barged into the office while she was there. It was a humiliating and gratifying experience.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Raf…why do you have this weird look on your face?”
“What weird look? My face is my face.”
“Raaaafff,” he says in a sing-song voice. “Have you been indulging in other gratifying experiences with your roommate?”
“None of your business.”
“Raf, it’s okay. Remember this is a safe space.We listen and we don’t judge, as Luca would say.”
“What would Luca say?” asks the man himself, as if just mentioning his name conjured him out of thin air.
“Well, baby bro. It would appear that our big bro has been sampling the live-in goods.”
“I didn’t fucking say that,” I seethe.
“No. But your face did,” claps back Seb.
“I’m proud of you,” says Luca, now by my side and patting my back.
I shrug him off. “There’s nothing to fucking report.”
“I call bullshit,” says Luca.
“Oh I definitely call bullshit. After having to look at Marco’s lovesick face for the last few months, I’d know that look even in my sleep.”
“You know what this means, Seb?”
“Tell me what this means, Lu.”
“We’re going on an adventure to the tattoo parlor! That was the bet right?”
“Why the fuck are you both here? Can’t I come and punch the fuck out of the bag in peace?” I snap.
“Now what fun would that be?” says Luca, pouting at me. He really is such a troll sometimes.
“What the fuck are you doing here anyway?” I ask him.
“Well it’s either burn the whole world down or punch a hole through the bag,” he says more soberly this time.
“Why? What happened?” I ask.
“Marco was right. Arabella isn’t coming back. Indefinitely. Worse than that, she wants us to cut ties completely. She said she needs to be completely alone with no reminders of her past.”
He looks so sad and broken.
“I just don’t get it. Now that I know the truth about that night, we can work through it together. But she’s adamant she’ll never be able to heal if I’m in her life. And fuck if that doesn’t cut to the core.”
He’s got his gloves on now and is lashing out at the bag, while Seb watches on with a faraway look in his eyes.
“What about you?” I ask Seb. “Why are you here punching the bag like it’s your worst enemy?”
“Evie is hiding something from me,” he says.
“How do you know?”
“I just do. She’s vibrating with this anxious energy, and I know she’s working on a big project, but something isn’t right,” says Seb. “She seems extra stressed.”
