Page 23 of Revv

And yeah, maybe that sounds dramatic, but whatever. It mattered.

Still does.

Which is why it’s really pissing me off I can’t get this transition right, because every dirty bassline keeps making me think about Revel’s bike between my thighs.

Ay, Dios mío.

Focus, Cece.

I pause the track.

“Nope.”

Guacamole lifts his head from his little cat bed in the middle of the floor.

“Not you. Go back to being unemployed.”

He blinks, fully unbothered, then tucks himself back into the blankets.

I start the track again.

The first part works. It’s smooth, a little sexy, with a Latin house beat sitting under this darker vocal that comes in soft before the whole thing turns dirty. The second drop still isn’t right, though. I want it to hit like a bad decision. The kind you know is a bad decision before you make it, but you do it anyway because it feels too good to stop.

Which is, unfortunately, very Revel-coded.

Dark hair.

Big hands, and don’t even get me started on that stupid mouth.

The way he looked at me last night when I said nothing happened, like he knew I was lying and was cocky enough to let me.

I stop the track and yank one headphone off.

“Nope. Absolutely the fuck not.”

My phone buzzes.

I look down, and my stomach does this annoying little twist before I even see the name.

Ay, of course.

Him.

Revel: Morning, community service queen.

I stare at it.

Then at the ceiling.

Then back at the phone.

“No.”

Guacamole’s ear twitches.

“I’m not answering.”

I answer.