Page 51 of Ruin
19
Giovanna
Ihaven’t heard from Tommy since yesterday morning, and his silence is a physical thing in the room that wraps around the cardboard moving boxes stacked in neat, unforgiving towers.
I should have been back at school this morning, but I stalled because he said he’d help me move back into my Bleeker Street apartment. He was a no-show yesterday and today, so after commuting to class this morning, I’m back at my parents’ house, stuck between boxes and indecision, losing my fucking mind.
Why isn’t he answering me? Tommy never ignores my texts, and after what happened in his car, I expected…something. Anything. Yesterday I waited for him all day, staring at my phone, half-convinced he’d pull up outside or just show up in my room and finish what we started the other night.
He had some work for his father yesterday morning, but since then—nothing. Silence. The longer it stretches, the more restless I feel, like I’m clawing at the inside of my ownskin.
I keep replaying the car over and over, the heat, the hunger, the way he unraveled me. Every time the memory sneaks in, my body responds instantly, wet and aching, immediately followed by inexplicable fear. Is he not texting because he got hurt working for his dad?
I’m about to try to find one of his brothers’ numbers to make sure Tommy is okay when my father sticks his head in the doorway and smiles at me. It’s his fake smile, the one he reserves for public events. He never wastes one on me, so it feels more like a threat than a kindness. I narrow my eyes at him.
“What do you want?” I snap.
He steps into the room, his smile oddly growing bigger. “Tough day?”
“No.” I turn my back on him and cross my arms, staring at the boxes. Why is he in such a fucking good mood?
Oh shit.
“Dad.” I turn slowly back to him. “Did you say something to Tommy?”
“I did see Tommy yesterday.” His voice drops, and when he says Tommy’s name, the smile curdles.
“And?”
My father shrugs and leans against the door frame. “I said a few things.”
“God damn it, Dad!” I flop heavily on the edge of my bed, exactly where Tommy was sitting when I came out of the bathroom and found him in my room last week. “What the actual fuck is your problem?”
My father bristles. “I think you know what my problem is. Or was. If he’s smart, it won’t be a problem anymore.”
He continues talking, but I whip out my phone and begin rage texting Tommy.
I know my father talked to you.
Fuck you for listening to him.
Fuck you for ghosting me.
Fuck you for making decisions for me.
You and my father don’t get to choose who I fuck.
When I look up, my mother has joined my dad in the doorway. She watches me, concern softening her features.
“Giovanna, you understand your father is trying to protect you.”
I laugh, hollow and loud. “Actually, I do not understand. If I want to fuck Tommy Demonio, it is ridiculous that you think you have a say in that!”
My father’s face turns almost purple as he clenches his fists. He lunges forward like he’s going to hit me again, and I lift my chin. The room tightens, and the air tastes like static.
Darting a glance at my mother, he steps back, spluttering, “Giovanna, if you go anywhere near that boy, you are cutoff. No tuition, no apartment, no place for you here, either.”
He turns to look at my mother, who raises an eyebrow at him. Something unspoken flickers between them, and he throws his hands in the air, then crosses his arms, glaring at me.
