𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟏𝟎𝟏 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐕

• 35 •

"You know what? I'm glad you kicked him out. He may be rich, but he is toxic as shit."

Ralph was fuming, pacing back and forth in front of my bed with his hands shielding his chest. I, on the other hand, was fiddling with D8BFD8's fur so much that she's about to go bald. My friend halted, "You know what you should do? You should burn his books. Put the ashes in a box, mail it to Keenan, and make him choke on it."

I looked at Ralph weirdly. "I don't think that's necessary," I told him.

"Being a dick is unnecessary," he stated, brows desperate to touch each other, "I did not raise you to be disrespected by some jerk rooting for Jacob Black."

I groaned into my bear's tummy, "Ralph, let it go."

"No," he fell on the bed near my feet, "I am not letting it go, especially when he dragged me into his shit. I'm innocent!"

"I know," I emphasized, "that's why we're pissed, right?" I fell back on my bed, Thistle weighing light on top of me.

"He needs to keep his jealousy in check." my friend mumbled as he munched on chocolate cookies—my chocolate cookies.

"He's not jealous," I began, "or I don't think so, at least." I turned over, cheek on purple synthetic fur.

"Gia, darling!" he poked my head, "Are you blind? of course he is. I don't see any other reason why he reacted the way he did."

"Ralph, Keenan doesn't seem like the jealous type, you know?" I shrugged, "and to be jealous because of me? it doesn't seem right."

My best friend groaned, "Fuck, you are blind."

"I'm not," I grumbled, "on the contrary, I'm looking closely from different angles. That's why I'm not settling with the easiest explanation of jealousy as a motive."

Ralph stared at me, looking both pissed and disappointed. He blinked a few times and I blinked back. "For me he's jealous," he settled with finality, "and it's toxic. I wasn't on Team Aldehyde, not on Team Keenan, not on team whoever. When I see something wrong, I point it out. Easy."

I sighed, "Think what you want."

It's not that I'm defending Keenan, but surely a man like him has more sensible reasons. Mr. Travino is an amateur sleuth on legs and I refuse to give up my contemplation until I read the big reveal, whatever scene it may unfold in. He wouldn't be giving fragments and go flags if he didn't want me to find out, that I'm seventy percent sure of.

My eyes suddenly flew to Ralph who got to his feet and stared me down with determination. "You know what? Let's go get drunk."

I quickly shook my brown-haired Gia head, "No," I said to him, "I've read about these things, they do not end well."

"Gianna Alexie, we are not in a romance trope," he crossed his arms and voiced his thoughts with heavy persistence, "we are drinking."

"That's not gonna solve anything." I sang, contrary to my past liquor adventures whenever I had problems. Maybe with Keenan, I'd rather take the night to think than to puke.

"Oh, we're not solving anything," Ralph put his hands on his hips, "we're gonna stall in the funnest way possible."

I stared at Ralph. Though I probably looked concerned, deep down I was reconsidering. He knew me well enough to know it. That's why he also knew that all I needed was a little push. After much gawking, his expression softened. It was the brotherly mask I seen in troubled times, "Gia," he began, "you're not yourself."