𝐆𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐨. Model, actress, celebrity. At the age of 22 Gianna already has everything or at least that's what everyone thinks.
But in reality, her life couldn't be more of a mess. Where there's money there's alcohol, where there's pa...
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I watch him watch me through the rearview mirror which is apparently our new thing, that and not speaking to each other right after we do our move in this little game we are playing.
That poker face of his is back on but this time it's different because I can tell what he is thinking. He regrets his move, but he knows he can't go back, the ball is now on my court. The moment he took Jesse's hand I knew exactly the reason behind it. He wanted me to react, he wanted me to do something that would give him a reason to get me away from the party, and like the brat I am I obviously had to give him something good.
"You do this often?" He is the one to break the silence, as per usual. His eyes still settled on my own — those warm green eyes I recently discovered he got from his father.
"Dancing on countertops? Only on Fridays, the tips are better then." I keep holding eye contact smiling as I give him an answer — the answer he doesn't want, of course.
"You know every magazine out there is going to talk about this, right? And not only that, I bet there are at least ten videos of you on that bar top already posted on social media." He is not angry or blaming me he is simply stating a fact. "I'm not trying to shame you, you are young, it's a party, I get it, I just hope you understand why I had to get you down." Suddenly this has turned a lot more serious than I expected, I didn't think he would explain the reason as to why he did what he did.
"Aw, turning soft already? Come on, Russo, I know you can do better than that." I joke not knowing what to say to that.
It's not the first time he has done something like this, forget about the game and just be himself, and I hate it. Because he is not that annoying when he is the true him.
"Gianna," he stops mid-sentence, and when I think he is about to continue he simply breaks eye contact and takes the key out of the ignition. We are parked right outside my building. The sun completely set already and relying on the streetlights to fight the darkness of the city. "It's late, I will accompany you inside." That's all he says, opening the car door and getting out before coming to help me. He was going to say something else, but whatever it was it's now forgotten.
Offering me his hand I take it before I can think of what I'm doing, my cold fingers warming up at the touch of his soft warm skin. Our eyes settling on them for a second before I let go.
The walk inside the building is filled with silence, and probably a lot of overthinking — from both of us. We stand side to side in the center of the elevator and with every floor number that lights up on the elevator screen a different moment of what happened today passes through my mind. From noticing him in the seventies suit for the first time, to him understanding Spanish, me dancing to Abba as I looked directly into his eyes, the feel of his hands on my thighs as he carried me away, his eyes lingering on my boobs for a lot longer than they should... me calling him a good boy. Maybe he was right when he said I was going to regret some stuff tomorrow, but so was he.
