“Or. What?” she whispers, punctuating each word, but I don’t miss the way her nipples betray her, peaking the fabric of her tank, or the quickened rise and fall of her chest that’s got zero to do with her being annoyed with me and everything to do with her being frustrated at my behavior. How easy it would be to take everything I want in the name of giving her exactly what her body is begging for. Except it would make me no better than every other man in her life, making her believe I could be what she needs, knowing full well I’m too much of a selfish bastard to be everything she deserves. I have enough self-preservation to avoid taking the top spot in the long list of men who have failed her. So I swallow hard, counting to five to get my own desires in check, then continue.
“Or you’ll miss out on my famous ramen noodles with a gooey fried egg and chili oil,” I respond, pulling out two packets of the ramen noodles I always keep on hand when I need a quick late-night meal, and stepping away from her.
She snorts a giggle, and it catches me off guard.
“Maybe I like my bananas and to eat them too,” she says before promptly bursting into a fit of uncontrollable giggles that sends her body collapsing forward into mine.
I place the noodles on the bench top and wrap my hands around her waist, the silkiness of her skin a salve to odd sensations pricking my own.
“Ah. Butchering another saying,” I muse, unable to keep the humor out of my voice as I set her upright, before she can feel exactly how hard everything is in the moment in all senses of the meaning.
“You weren’t complaining this morning or…” she quips, her giggles trailing off, and her eyes lined with moisture of happy tears piercing through me.
“I’ll let you have that point. Now, will you please sit down so I can feed you properly? A banana is not a proper meal.”
“Hmmm. I beg to differ, and in different circumstances, I know you’d consider a banana a proper meal,” she says, using air quotes to use my own words against me. “But I’m not just a pretty face, Raffy, so you bet your ass I’m not going to turn down an offer of a midnight snack cooked for me by my roomie-with-no-benefits. Chop, chop, chef! I’m ravenous.”
And this is how I find myself eating noodles in my kitchen at nearly 1 a.m. with Chiara, who lets me peel back more of the layers of her like an onion, telling me all about her favorite dishes her mom used to make and that, no matter how many times she orders them at a restaurant, they just never taste right—like that one special ingredient is missing. The fond memories soften her pretty features so much that in the soft glow, it makes her look truly angelic. And not for the first time, I want to burn the world down over every single bad thing that has happened to her and every person who has mistreated or double-crossed her in a bid to clip her wings. I don’t realize I’ve entered some trance-like state while listening to her chat away until her voice, husky from the late hour, cuts through the white noise in my ears.
“Do you know what the secret ingredient is?”
“Are you asking me?” I respond like an idiot.
“Well, I don’t see anyone else here, and I’m not going to get into my crazy on day one of being roomies and tell you that I do indeed speak to dead people.”
She says it tongue in cheek, but I feel it like a knife to the organ that is persistent in making me aware it’s not going back to the cage from which it’s broken free.
I lean back in my chair and smile at her softly.
“I do not, but I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.”
“Love.”
She holds my eye for a beat, then gets up, goes to the sink, rinses her bowl, and puts it in the dishwasher just like I instructed her to do with her coffee cup all those months ago.
Just before she walks out of the kitchen, she pauses in the entryway and looks back over at me.
“Thanks for the late-night dinner date, roomie. It’s my most favorite ramen I’ve ever eaten.”
Then she’s gone, and I know that sleep will not find me tonight, but I pray that sweet dreams find her instead of the ghosts of dead people she speaks to.
Breaking News:
The Latest on the Law Gala That Ended with a Bang
As you may have seen reported on mainstream channels over the weekend, the inaugural Law Gala ended in drama with Marco Marrone, partner of Vault Enterprise, taking a bullet when it was discovered a gunman had been smuggled into the event in the guise of a guest.
In good news, we can report Mr. Marrone has survived the attack and is currently recuperating in the hospital in a critical but stable condition with a full recovery expected. Investigations are underway into motives for the attack, and not much more can be reported.
Speaking of investigations, the other big bombshell of the night was the sexual assault allegations against the evening’s co-chair and high-flying entertainment lawyer, Arty Bartholomew Jones. It’s been an immense honor to use this platform to start the journey on the road to hopefully bringing justice to his victims. Princi & Associates have confirmed they will represent any victims pro bono, but again, given this is a criminal matter now in the hands of authorities and legal teams, we aren’t at liberty to say much more or offer any of our usual speculation.
However, if you do have any information or need to report an incident, a private hotline has been established so that you can speak to the relevant authorities who can direct you on the next best steps. Simply phone or text 1-800-555-1571. It’s never too late to speak up. It’s never too late to take back your power.
It’s not our style to end on doom and gloom, so in some other news— signs are pointing to things getting serious fast between our Raf Princi and Chiara Gigioliotti. From images obtained from a close source, it appears the up-and-coming photographer moved into the notoriously private lawyer’s bachelor pad over the weekend. Whether or not the decision to move in together is a result of what happened at the Law Gala, where she attended as his date, or is simply the next step in their whirlwind romance, which appears to be heating up quickly, we can’t say.
What is clear to see from these red-carpet images is that they have all the makings of being the next golden couple—but being from polar opposite worlds, do they have what it takes to make it?
Like we always say, only time will tell.
