I’LL JUST LOOK one more time. It’s not like I haven’t been pacing around the air-conditioned hotel living room for the past hour, rationalizing taking another glance.
One more look on top of the other hundred times isn’t gonna hurt.
I really shouldn’t keep trying to find something. I don’t even know what I’m looking for.
An ex-girlfriend who still sends him messages? A current girlfriend he’s lying about?
Nico wouldn’t. Right?
My heart violently rebukes me when I open his Instagram account. A collection of thirty photographs, plus the video I took of him, is on his page. Some of the pictures are random landscapes, all terribly staged and blurry. In a few images, Nico’s smiling face is surrounded by random strangers or hidden by sunglasses, goggles, or baseball caps.
In a scenario where you’re stalking a man on social media, this account is ideal: infrequently used and following only a handful of people, most of whom are his friends and family.
At least, I think so.
The most recent photograph is from Luca and Avery’s wedding. It’s Nico and his parents hugging Avery and Luca. I’m in the photo as well, my arms wrapped around my best friend.
I’m also the only woman featured on the four-year-old profile besides his new sister-in-law and his mother.
I hover my finger over his inbox.
Sure, I rage about privacy all the time. But he left it open on my phone, practically begging for the intrusion.
Who wouldn’t look?
Fuck it, I give in to the temptation again. Sixty-two unread messages.
Typical.
Most of the DM previews—I’m not about to open his unread messages because it would be taking things way too far—seem to be other guys sending reactions to the surfing video I took.
My eyes land on some threads I can swipe into.
All I find are unanswered messages from different women, some with subtle flirting and heart emojis, others with very blatant come-ons: “DTF?”; “You around tonight?”; “Come see me.”
He left them all on read. A move I’m very familiar with, but Nico?
The strain in my jaw releases, an almost-painful clenching of my teeth I didn’t realize was there. Sure, he may have deleted the risqué ones earlier on the trip. Maybe he orchestrated leaving his phone in the lockers today and deleted all the unseemly DMs last night or something.
Am I actually relieved?
“Ugh.” I throw the phone on the couch and plop down in the opposite seat. My body slides down the fabric with my limbs outstretched like one of those sticky wall-climber toys.
Why am I overthinking this entire thing? Silly question.
I know why. Chuck.
Fucking Chuck.
He crawls his way into my brain like a festering disease, growing mold around the rotten memories of our past. I’ve worked so hard to heal from him, and the moment I feel a sliver of attachment to someone, here he is. Alive and well in my head.
It’s as if no level of assurance will ever feel real or be enough. “This is ridiculous.” I groan.
“What’s ridiculous?” Nico says as the front door clicks shut.
“Nothing.” My limbs gather themselves from their splatter on the couch, folding up like a sheet of origami.
Peeks of pink and red kiss the tanned skin of his shoulders. Guess the unnecessarily erotic sunscreen application earlier on the beach did little to keep his skin from burning.
Also, what the hell was up with those romance book questions? I’m going to need to be more careful about everything.
“On my way back to the hotel, I was thinking that I’d like to do something special.”
My ears perk up. “What did you have in mind?” “I want to take you to a nice dinner tomorrow.”
Bronzed, shaggy curls hang across his face, stretched from spending the day in the water. An errant strand pokes at his right eye. I want to brush it out of his face, take the rest of his tousled hair, and tug it hard until he sucks air through his teeth.
My pulse speeds like the eccentric crank on a steam train.
“Is there an occasion?” I desperately try to remain in the conversation, but I’ve lost my marbles entirely.
Nico connects his hip with the kitchen island, stretching out his abs, and my stomach somersaults. “Does there have to be?”
“I suppose not.”
A step of evolution must have skipped me. Because every time I see the deep V of his abs, my brain reverts to cavewoman status.
Happy trail. Yeah. Follow the trail. Mhmm. Happy woman. Happy trail.
It’s what Dorothy did, right? And she still managed to make it home in one piece.
Guilt sits in my stomach after the hours of snooping I’ve conducted. I have to confess.
“I was wondering…”
“What’s up?” He gestures for me to go on.
“Why haven’t you responded to any of your DMs?” “My what?”
“I looked, okay?” I stand and pace aimlessly around the living room. “I checked your messages like I said I would. But the only ones that were there were from before the trip.” My eyes skip over the grin on his face, avoiding eye contact altogether. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Are you jealous, Lily Rodin?”
“No way.” I brush him off. “Answer the question.”
“The only person I’m interested in talking to is here.”
My hands swipe at my face. Great. I probably have streaks of mascara down my cheeks. At least now, I’ll look unkempt enough to match my ridiculous outburst.
“Have you been talking to anyone?” he asks.
No. Of course not.
“You know what, I—I don’t want to know,” he says.
My only messages are the regular flood of scrubs liking every picture I post and the DMs Chuck keeps hounding me with, all of which are measly emoji reactions to my every selfie. Lastly, there’s a text that Diego sent me the other night.
Which consisted of Are you having fun in Rio? Subtext: Wanna fuck? And me responding with Best time of my life. Subtext: Not at all.
“There hasn’t been a single person since we took shots at the Mademoiselle,” I say.
“Yeah, and you met my last date.”
The flutter in my chest returns, annoying and nagging and all too heavy with relief. “You haven’t talked to Renée again?”
“No, I didn’t sleep with her either. As I’ve said, the only person I want to be with is you.”
Beneath me, the hardwood floor turns into quicksand. “In a friends- with-benefits type of way, right?”
“Sure. I’m going to go take a shower.” Nico winks and walks into his room.
I stand motionless.
Are we digging ourselves too deep? Let’s check the facts.
We both aren’t talking to other people. He buys me clothes, takes me to dinner, and lately, has been treating me like there’s royal blood in my veins. Every time I look at him, my body erupts with arousal like an overeager volcano.
This has to be the norm. I mean, I’ve never been in a friends-with- benefits relationship before, and all of this simply must be part of it. There’s no other explanation for what happens when I’m around him.
But maybe I want to do something for Nico in return. I bite my lip. Time to make an exception to my own decade-long promise.
 |
June 24th
HEY, my favorite lovers,
Word on the street is a few strokes of the tongue, and you can blow a man away. I’ve always loved a good conversation, so let’s see if the lucky someone who’s left me entirely speechless can help me find my voice again. #howmanyinchesistoomany #firstblowjobinyears
Kisses from me to you, Zoe Mona
