Two: Five Fucking Years

Gianna

God no. It couldn’t be him, right? I slowly unclasp my hands from his waist, pulling away as if that will make this a nightmare and not reality.

"Who... what?" I stammer, my voice trembling.

He turns to face me, the soft glow of the streetlight outside casting shadows on his face. My knees give out and I fall to them, the cold pavement pressing against my skin.

What is he doing here?

"Why are you here?" My voice cracks despite my best effort to sound strong.

"I came to see my best friend. Why else would I be here, kitten?"

The nickname cuts through me. Five years. Five years of silence. No calls, no texts, not even a goodbye.

I swallow back a sob. "He's not here, so why are you here?"

A small smile tugs at his lips. "I did plan to leave, but he convinced me to stay with you. Said something about a rebellious phase and that I’m the only one who gets you."

I step back instinctively. My heart races. Dmitry Orlov. My first and only love. The man who kisses me with fire in his eyes and leaves the next day without a single word.

I sent texts for months. There was no reply. It is as if he erases himself from my life, and maybe he should have stayed erased.

"That was then. Now I doubt you can handle me," I say, trying to sound smug. My voice betrays me. Inside, I am raw, every old wound opening again.

I blink back the tears threatening to spill, thank gracious for the cut out because it'd be so embarrassing to have my ex see me crying because of him.

He doesn't deserve to see how much he still manages to affect me, I really do think I am over him.

The streetlight from across helps me see his face a little clearer, his hair is practically glowing, more darker than before.

My eyes drop to his lips and I take a step back, as the memory of our first kiss flashes through me like fire.

Life is unfair, I am good to him, faithful and he leaves me, now he's standing here looking so fucking perfect even in the dark.

"I think, kitten," his hands hover above my head, his voice low, almost teasing, "you are still the same."

My eyes widened. He has me. I fell for his trap again. I am helpless at his mercy.

"Fuck no. In your dreams. In your fucking dreams."

He chuckles, a sound that makes me want to laugh and cry and punch him all at once.

"Gia, you don’t want to know what we do in my dreams."

My eyes shoot up at him, he has been thinking about me all this time?

I open my mouth to ask, but my phone buzzes.

Kevin: You do know your invitation is still open, right?

A smile creeps onto my face. God, I could kiss Kevin right now.

"What invitation?" He whispers, my eyes dart up locking with Dmitry's.

"That’s none of your business," I snap, heart pounding.

I try to step away, but his hands graze mine.

"Don’t you ever touch me again," I say, shaking.

He holds his hands up in surrender. "I’m sorry, I just—"

"Look, you’re back, and that’s great for you. But don’t think things between us will automatically be as they were."

I point at him. "You hurt me. You didn’t give a damn about me. We ended a long time ago, so if you think the old Gia still exists, you’re dead wrong, also, never call me kitten again."

I don’t wait for him to respond. I turn back to the stairs, letting the tears fall freely, letting nineteen-year-old me cry again.

Fuck him. Fuck Dmitry Orlov.

It is like I can't escape him, for five years the memory haunts me and that cursed nickname, I hate it that is why I use it for my stream. To spite his memory.

He always fucking says I am cute as a kitten, innocent, I have to prove to him I am not, I can be a dirty little kitten too.

It gives me a sense of power, like I win over my burning emotions for him.

Like I own my life finally but now, now he's here I realize I don't. I don't own shit. —

The party is in full swing by the time I get there. True to his word, only a few people are around, and most are coupled up, completely ignoring my very obvious swollen eye.

"I knew you'd make it!" Kev yells from the kitchen as he approaches.

I give him a small smile and let him wrap his arms around me.

"I only come for my pay," I say, shrugging. "It's a rainy evening, and going to work would have been useless."

He pulls back, clutching his chest like I just stab him.

"That's mean, Gia. Here I thought you were here for me."

I snap my fingers, gesturing toward him.

"Go on. My pay."

He chuckles, still smirking, and reaches into his pocket anyway. He hands me three hundred bucks, and I snatch it, barely hiding my grin.

"Lead the way, pretty boy," I say, looping my arm through his. He grins and leads us toward the dining area.

Drinks are scattered all over the table, and I smile inwardly. Thank heavens it is the weekend. Looking at these, they won’t be enough to drown the caterpillars before they turn into full-blown love butterflies.

“Kev! Over here! You need a partner!” someone shouts from across the room.

I nudge him, grinning. “Looks like we’ve been summoned, pretty boy. Now this is what I call a party."

He groans but lets me loop my arm tighter through his. “You’re insane,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“C'mon what is a party without a little game of beer bong?” I ask, tugging him toward the table suddenly realizing this is the first time we are so close to each other.

The beer bong is set up, a long tube snaking from the funnel to the waiting pitcher.

And this here, is exactly all I need.

“Alright, team Kev versus… whoever,” someone calls out, and the crowd laughs, nudging us forward.

I crouch down beside the funnel, tilting it just right, and gesture for Kev to follow. “You’re with me. Don’t chicken out now.”

Kev’s jaw tightens, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “I already feel like I’m making a huge mistake.”

“Too late for regrets,” I tease, giving him a playful shove toward the tube. I grab the pitcher, letting the amber liquid pour in, and watch it swirl with satisfaction.

The room erupts in cheers as I lean in, my lips barely brushing the tube. “Ready, Kev?”

“Do I have a choice?” he whispers, and I roll my eyes. “Fine, bottoms up.”

I hold the tube steady as the beer rushes past, laughing when Kev sputters and coughs. His arms flail slightly, trying to stay upright, but I press a hand to his back, steadying him.

“You're nasty,” he mutters through a grin.

“And isn't that why you love being with me?” I shoot back, wiping a stray drop from my chin.

The crowd cheers and nudges us toward the next game. “Alright, losers spin the wheel!” someone yells, pointing to a colorful board set up on the table.

I loop my arm through Kev’s again, grinning. “Looks like we’re spinning. Hope you like dares.”

Kev groans, eyebrows furrowed. “I swear, you drag me into the worst decisions.”

“Hey, this is your party. I'm only helping you entertain your guests.” I tease, shoving him gently toward the wheel.

He rolls the spinner with care, muttering under his breath. The wheel clicks, slows, and lands on “Shot for both!”

The crowd erupts, and Kev turns to me, mock horror on his face. “You're going to get so darn wasted..”

"And that's exactly what I need.” I whisper, leaning over to grab the two shot glasses. I pour the liquid, swirling it before holding one toward him. “Bottoms up.”

We clink glasses and down it, the burn making me wince but also laugh. Kev coughs, patting his chest dramatically. “I am terrible at this.”

“Oh please, a little shot didn’t kill anyone,” I say, grabbing the dice for the next game. I sip my water between turns, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread through my chest.

I lean into the music, spinning and twirling, feeling the warm buzz settle in my chest.

Kev is laughing so hard his drink almost spills. “I'm glad you came,” he gasps, clutching his stomach.

"Me too.” I offer a small smile, I am beyond glad that I am here. If I stay home, I'd be in bed wailing over all of my problems.

This is exactly what I need, pretending to be rich and downing good alcohol.

By the time the night rolls on, I lose count of how many games we play.

My cheeks hurt from laughing, my head is buzzing, and I am loving every second.

Kev leans against me at one point, whispering, “You are getting way too good at this.”

I smirk, resting my head on his shoulder. “And you’re extremely lucky to be my partner, pretty boy.”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah… but don’t think this is over. I’ll get my revenge in the next game.”

Kev grabs my hand mid-laugh and tugs me toward the dance floor. “Come on, pretty girl, let’s show them how it’s done.”

The music thumps through the room, bass vibrating in my chest. I let myself go, letting Kev lead. We move together like we belong there, spinning and swaying, and for a second, all my stress, all my worries, melt away.

It feels… nice. Really nice. Too nice, maybe.

And then, out of nowhere, it hits me, the stress, the heartbreak, the loneliness, and my chest tightens. Tears burn at the corners of my eyes before I can stop them.

If Kev notices, he doesn't say a thing, only pulls me closer, one arm around my waist, the other keeping my hand in his.

I let my head rest on his shoulder, feeling a strange, bittersweet relief wash over me.

Then my phone buzzes in between my breasts, it is an old habit I pick up from tita.

“Sorry,” I mutter, cheeks flaming. “Not a wardrobe malfunction, I swear.”

He chuckles, stepping back just enough to give me space, but that glint in his eyes says he is enjoying the view a little too much.

“Whoever that is,” he says, voice all teasing silk, “they have the worst timing.”

I finally fish my phone out, heart hammering, and freeze.

The screen lights up with Alec’s name. Shoot. I forgot to tell him I wouldn’t be home early.

I open the message box, and the words hit me like a truck.

This is the ER at Saint Mary’s Hospital. Your brother, Alec, is currently in critical condition. Please come immediately.

My chest goes cold, and my stomach twists. I can’t… I can’t believe it.

Kev’s laughter fades behind me. His hand reaches for mine, but I don’t even notice. I just stand there, trembling, staring at the phone as the room around me blurs into nothing.