“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” I yell into my phone and rip it from my ear to check if the line is still ringing. Of course this is happening right now. I click off the call and check the time.
5:16 p.m. Right next to my almost-drained battery from the roaming. 12%.
Nico’s over an hour late and not answering me. Again.
I grind my teeth together, my molars practically splintering. A torrent of worry floods my chest. Something may have happened. He promised to pick up his phone when I called.
I inhale a calming breath, but my lungs fill with humidity and dust. I cough and recheck the address I texted him yesterday.
R. Joaquim Silva, 82—Centro, Rio de Janeiro
Yep. Still the right place. Still no Nico. Fucking typical.
Last night, when I showed him pictures of the colorful steps of Escadaria Selarón, Nico insisted we should go together. The plan was for me to spend some time exploring Santa Teresa, and he would meet me at the bottom of the stairs after his lesson.
Except his surf class ended two hours ago.
“This time, I really am going to suffocate him with his own fucking pillow,” I mutter.
“Um?” a soft voice comes from behind me.
I peer back at a middle-aged woman standing in a large group of tourists, all staring blankly at me.
Fuck. I didn’t realize my voice was loud enough to snag the attention of strangers.
“Men.” I throw up my arms and plaster on the best smile I can. “Am I right?”
My manic laughter does little to mask my anger. I scurry away. The last thing I need is someone to think I’m attempting a murder when I’m simply highly considering it.
“Zoe, wait up,” a deep voice yells.
My heart somersaults into my stomach, and I whip around.
What on earth? No way someone recognized me as Zoe Mona. How would that even be possible? I’ve been so careful to not reveal my face online.
“Zoe!” the voice screams again, and I catch the source, a man chasing his scampering toddler.
Thank fuck. I don’t need another crisis on my hands. Secret identity safe.
Ugh.
What was I thinking?
I should’ve continued my afternoon walk around the beautiful streets of Santa Teresa alone. It would have been a much better use of my time than being stood up.
I’ve let the man finger me for a week, and I’m suddenly delusional about the kind of person my friend can be.
My gut feels like a jumbled mess of tangled cords. “Screw this.”
Just because Nico ditched me, it doesn’t mean I have to waste the rest of my day. I know better than to rely on him or anyone else, for that matter.
I storm into a nearby cafe, practically tearing the slings off my flip- flops, and order a chamomile tea—it’s supposed to help you relax, right?— then make my way back to Escadaria Selarón.
The steps are a beautiful collection of mosaic tiles, pieced together with bright colors of Brazil: deep greens, blues, and yellows. Clusters of red line the stairs. The sight is breathtaking, even through my flustered feelings.
I weave through bodies and small masterpieces, spotting hidden artwork tucked beneath the weight of clay.
The thorny concerns persist. Is he okay?
Did Nico’s class run over?
Maybe he was eaten by a shark?
Alarm billows through me. I pull out my phone to check the messages again. Perhaps this was all a big misunderstanding.
Our text thread sits empty without a response. Or not.
My fingers navigate to Avery’s contact and type furiously.
LILY
Nico is a fucking douchehat
I delete the message draft immediately. Worst case, my battery will expire soon, and I won’t be able to find the way back to the hotel. Someone needs to know where I am if I get lost. I send Avery my location instead.
LILY
Hey, my battery is about to die and Nico left me stranded. Love you. Don’t go easy on him
Right as I hit send, the device vibrates. Nico’s name flashes across my screen, I open the text.
NICO
hey, marcelo needed help moving a couch. Won’t be able to make it. c u at dinner?
Whack.
Just as I go to respond, a sharp pain attacks the bridge of my nose, shooting through my eyes and into my head. My phone and cup of tea tumble out of my hand. When I open my eyelids, I catch the remnants of my cell cascading down the stairs through a jungle of shoes.
“What the fuck?” I palm my nose, feeling a welt already forming.
“Oh, sorry.” A man holding an extended selfie stick glances over at me and flashes an innocent look. It takes everything in my power to not let the scream lodged at the base of my throat rip the poor bystander to shreds.
Why do bad things happen to decent—sometimes not great, but overall not bad—people?
“Ouch.” I rub my nose again.
I need to return to the hotel before I implode.
I can’t believe Nico waited an hour before texting me to cancel plans.
How fucking inconsiderate. But should I even be surprised? Just a few
weeks ago, he bailed on a date to spend more time with me.
My eyes scan the steps, spotting my phone a few feet down. I hurry toward it.
Please don’t be ruined. Please just be a scratch.
I take a moment of silence and bend down, turning my cell over. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
The entire screen is demolished.
What did I do to deserve this?
Realization sets in, I have no phone in a country where I can barely understand the language, I don’t know anyone here, and I must be over a thirty-minute drive from the hotel.
Anxiety strums a knowing melody in my chest.
It’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t need Nico, and his total disregard for my time.
I’ll just wave down a taxi.
Navigating is my strong suit. One time, I got Avery and I home from her coworker’s house in Connecticut after she’d chugged an entire bottle of champagne. I’d forgotten my purse on the subway on the way to the party, had to battle the remnants of a week-long stomach bug, and still got us home in one piece.
This is nothing.
The pain in my nose fades as I stumble onto the main street.
Wait, how much money do I have? Most drivers here only accept cash for fare. I dig into my crossbody for my wallet, but between an ancient stick of lip balm, two tampons, headphones, and an extra hair tie, my wallet’s nowhere to be found.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
This can’t be happening.
My fingers tremble as I dump out the contents of my bag onto a nearby bench. I take inventory of the items, but an overwhelming urge to sob comes over me.
No. I haven’t cried in years—almost a decade—and I won’t let Nico’s carelessness or an attack from a selfie stick defeat me.
My thoughts scramble together until I remember the last time I used my wallet.
The cafe.
I glance around the street, hoping to spot something familiar.
Now, where the hell is the cafe?
I gulp down another tsunami-sized wave of panic and force myself to my feet.
Thinking I could rely on Nico was a mistake. Hell, it’s starting to feel like this entire trip was a mistake.
 |
“Nico?” I thrash open the door to our hotel suite, the knob ricocheting off the wall.
That’ll definitely need a repair. Whatever. Nico can afford it.
The hum of music blasts from his room.
I knew the benefits of our new arrangement were going to turn into liabilities. How could I let myself be fooled by him so easily?
I march in, wade through piles of discarded clothing, then storm my way into his bathroom. I rip open the shower curtain. The cotton fabric tears straight from the bar.
“Oh, so you are fucking alive?”
Nico tilts his head toward me, his naked body covered in suds. “Hey, Lil.” He smirks his annoying smirk.
I’ve just had the worst afternoon of my life. And this is only weeks after a man collapsed while inside me, I failed a class, and got fired all on the same day.
“You coming in?” Nico beams at me.
“Are you dense? Of course I’m not going to join you.” I turn the nozzle to the coldest setting and look him straight in the eye. “I’m leaving.”
His eyes sprout open. “W-what?”
Not granting him an explanation, I torpedo out of his room. I don’t know if there’s a flight to New York today, but I’ll pay whatever to get out of here.
I need to go home.
“What happened?” Nico yells after me. The question strikes searing-hot rage into my blood.
“What happened? Are you serious?” I whip around. He’s wrapped in a towel around his still-damp body and is lazily slumped against his doorframe like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “You promised you
were going to meet me today, Nico. Three fucking hours ago. You can’t cancel plans when they’re in the middle of happening.”
“Oh, Lily, I didn’t think it was a big deal. Marcelo asked for help, and I
—I don’t know. I didn’t want to leave him hanging, but I guess I completely lost track of time. You know I’m not good with my phone.”
“You could’ve texted me sooner.” I try to calm the spell of anger. “I get that you wanted to help your friend, but I’m your friend too.”
Nico staggers back at the eruption. “What happened to your nose?” “Someone hit me.”
“What the fuck? Who?” His fists ball up, almost matching the strain in my own hands. “Who hurt you, Lily?”
“You.” Tossing my palms in the air with exasperation and I storm to my room. Nico’s rushed footsteps follow behind me. “You hurt me, Nico. I can’t do this.”
“Please, explain what’s going on.”
I yank my suitcase out of the closet and consider tossing it at his gorgeous fucking face. “If you were half as selfless in our friendship as you are in bed, you wouldn’t have forgotten about me. Again.”
“Why is there a bruise on your face?” Nico paces, worry creasing his brows.
“Because I waited for you, and when I got done waiting for you, I tried to turn my afternoon around. Some dickwad clapped their selfie stick—”
“Selfie stick?”
I yank clothes off the hangers and shove them into my luggage. “Then my phone fell and shattered to pieces, I lost my wallet, and all the while you were putting on a fucking show in the shower. I’m done. This trip, this arrangement, trusting you—it was all a horrible mistake.”
Nico windmills the clothes out of my bag and tosses them onto the bed. “Please, Lily, let’s talk. I can fix this.”
“There’s nothing to fix, Nico.” The contents of my undergarment drawer fly into the suitcase, and I stare at every color of my own betrayal. Everything Nico’s stripped off my body lies between us. His eyes bounce between me and the thongs. “You are who you are, but I can’t function like you. I can’t just be okay when you cancel on me halfway through a plan we made.”
“Are you actually alright?”
My heart rips in my chest. “No! Did you not hear me? I’m not alright.”
“How did you get back here?”
“While I was waiting for you at the stairs, I got myself some tea and left my wallet at a cafe. It took me an hour to get back there.”
His brows pinch together. “Did you find your wallet?”
“Yes. The attractive cafe owner held onto it and got me a car back to the hotel.”
“Lily, I—” Nico reaches for my hand, but I rip away from his touch. “I’m sorry. I should’ve let you know sooner.”
“No.” I fight the tremble in my voice. “Look, I came here to relax and have fun. I did. We’re not great traveling partners. It’s that simple.”
“Please let me make it up to you.”
“Enough. I’m not trying to change you. You obviously do things your way. There’s no reason for you to accommodate me or feel responsible for me.”
Even if all I’m asking for is a commitment to the things we agree on, and he can’t even seem to do that.
“I fucked up.”
“It’s fine,” I sigh. “Please get out. I need to finally buy my ticket home.”
Nico kicks his feet around with indecision, but I have no interest in hearing his excuses. “Lil—”
“Please.”
He leaves me to my packing, closing the door gently behind him. Leaving’s not the worst thing in the world. A gorgeous tan, a few great
—otherworldly—orgasms, and a nice couple of weeks of travel.
Could’ve been worse.
Some dreadful hours later, it turns out I won’t pay anything for a flight home. Especially when anything is actually $5,702. Coastal Fling is doing well, but I don’t have nearly enough cash to spare on a plane ticket.
I refresh the screen of my computer and angrily bite into the French fries Nico dropped off at my door after our fight.
I know it was a terrible excuse for an apology, but I appreciate him giving me space and making sure I’m fed. It’s the least he can do.
I scroll through the flights on my laptop again.
Come on, universe. I’ll even fly into Newark.
