“ANYONE HERE?” I stumble through the townhouse, winding up the spiral staircase to my room.
Seems like Molly is still in the Hamptons.
Being alone in New York these past three days has been absolutely dreadful. Today, I mustered enough energy to go outside for the first time since getting back from Cyprus.
A breath of fresh air was actually…comforting.
I drag the anvil of loneliness with me up the final few steps, fidgeting with the two bracelets Nico gifted me this summer.
I haven’t been able to take them off, and I don’t think I want to. They make me feel like pieces of him are still with me—despite my insistence on the distance from him.
An email alert on my phone chimes, so I click through to the message only to find one of the old dating apps offering me a month free to rejoin their platform.
My finger quickly finds the unsubscribe button.
That’s not what I want anymore—random hookups and dazed mornings.
It was lonely and mechanical. Nothing like the way I felt this summer.
My mind repeats the same phrase it’s been replaying for the past few days: Did I make a mistake?
When Nico and I got back to our hotel from the Adonis Baths Waterfalls, we packed and drove to the airport.
We didn’t talk during our lengthy flight the way we had all summer. There were no jokes or games for us to indulge in. I slept as much as I
could until we landed in New York, then Nico had to rush to board his connecting flight to California.
I was the one who’d insisted on this break to figure out what the hell I’m doing with my life, but since my cab ride home from the airport, I’ve been drowning myself in greasy takeout and old rom-coms—except for Notting Hill.
More and more, I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever work up the courage to follow in the footsteps of Julia Roberts’s character in my favorite movie and take a risk on love. No matter how unpredictable things may be for Nico and me.
I finally collapse onto my bed.
I scroll through some of my DMs until I notice Nico’s Instagram account is still logged into my phone, so I log out.
I trust him.
But I can’t help but go to his profile. It’s no longer the same grid of thirty photographs it was in June. Now, it’s filled with countless pictures of us.
Me cuddled up with a monkey in Rio.
Us on the London Eye as Nico forced a happy face despite his trembling knees.
Me sprawled out on the beach in Cyprus.
Him holding my hand while I screeched through Scream. The aching hole in my chest returns.
I miss his ridiculously bright smile. His jokes.
His voice.
His nine-inch cock.
I miss just being in the same room with him. I don’t think I was really able to conceptualize just how overwhelming the distance between us would feel.
I shuck off my boots and rip off my bra before tossing both into the corner of the room, where my unpacked suitcase is rotting away.
Ugh.
No time like the present.
In a few uneven steps, I plop onto the floor and unzip the suitcase. The smell of sunscreen wafts into my bedroom, pulling at every loose string in my chest.
The deep-red dress Nico bought for me to wear at the Wild Cherry sits on top of my things, the sheer fabric almost burning my fingertips.
There’s also the bundle of bathing suits that traveled with me from Rio to London to the Azores to Cyprus and came off so easily under Nico’s fingers.
Every single clothing item is a moment from my summer with him. There’s no way I can do this right now.
I’ll start with my tote. That should be much easier.
I shuffle through the items at the bottom of my bag: a half-empty water bottle, a hairbrush, a lip balm, and some random snack wrappers from the airport.
And my leather-bound journal.
The wretched thing that contains the friends-with-benefits rules I was so terrible at abiding by during our entire trip.
I trace my fingers over the cover and realize maybe, somewhere deep down, I’m secretly a masochist.
I flip to the first page.
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1. I\] o s I ee]a ‹ ng t oy}et l•e r
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2. |
l’do |
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3. |
hi o |
o t ke |
r |
g e o g 1e |
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6. |
k o |
sex |
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, Sgyyy {g, \e
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a o P^;ecssa. i * “
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¿ever hapqe <
ise i1 **
aQair •
detective Lily, glad coastal Flirq
)oâag, &on’t know it gou wrote i# but
J’m yretJg sure it’s about yoM and xlD‹
3 mean, hJiCk sounds a lot like hJico«
Were you really Chi nkirq about we this
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Prixces a… No idea what rr aqic you just perforned in the shower, but 3 can barelę feel my knaes. Żes, I v whippeÓ. SenÓ he!p.
To1al\ blew ił toÓay by
“^” ^^^*’»q ¥ou al the WiIĄ Cherry, @on*t be nad a\ rfle Łor
! « !onq. You lookeÓ beaułiful as
*! §S, bU/ #ha# red dress Z
>°uQhł ąou looked ever belŚer on
łhe I loot oł +out badroo u,
Ng bestselliPq au‹thor, łhank you kar łelliyq me abou/ Eoe Hona, Yhanks for trusŻ in@ ze, Tha ok you for
te\Źl Pp ze show ąou łhe Su»f\owers.
I hope ęou re as yappy gS j gjy ,
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I leep to convinca męself
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is just sex ani haŻ we’re just Ćriends , like you wau# ze to, buł I’ve never felł like łhis before..
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1ha1 swe ne wooid be lbe hey test
Li t,g ,. L. ill, L ill «
We sha re m at chi nq i wk a r our ski,n
Is n’\ it aback 1i me to at m it that tout
Ia ve rr e as v uch as S love you .
I Chi wk so.
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g r ixcesa, I’ rr 5Or P§ THIS ‘S
happenirq rl*gh1 row, the
plagiarism and the secrets‹
I’n
\«ere for $ou, however you“ It \rave
rre.
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w‹e«i e -• i°u a’””’
Lilg, this app J‘y buildinq could real\g be somethirq. Iñy boss thinks it’s a qreat idea, and if I qet a lea> approved, then I ca 9 relocate to %ew York.
J lo v e §OU •
HakinQ my Just lisT, hope ¿ou’re prouol
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6o1Tit‹z Jealous (woulolr T aoÍmiT that to you Who ) You scream i sq ray ma we for Bri aLtÓiQ SGD Navi nq a r ienol with berefits
Watch kg Ÿxin ndship br acrteTs Your Ïirsł blow job îr 1o ąears 7esli Nq ouł İhe degradation kind
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low nq the mile high club
Załirq out an aiiex
Feecl irq for paricaKes for di r r.ar
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9enÏi nØ out a museum
First 1i we you look a ü inch olick left irq railed aq ai ns1 a waiting Beiriq kicked out of One club
Mr ave!inq somewhere new to qeT her
Nak i uq love
taking cars of somooue… sorry it took me
so long to fiqure on how
You’re m 9 I irsł _{and lasì )_ love
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All the emotions that I’ve been suppressing come tumbling out of me like a sudden storm.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. What have I done?” I cry, and my voice catapults into a violent sob.
Nico spent the summer being patient with me and proving to me, time and time again, that he was willing to grow and change, but I pushed him away.
I couldn’t even consider the possibility that working on myself and loving him could co-exist in the same space in my life.
Could they?
Don’t people say you have to be whole before loving someone else?
I force myself to feel the ache in my chest as the realization that I deserve a healthy love with him finally explodes inside of me.
I deserve to work through my fears about the lawsuit. I deserve to finally silence Chuck’s voice in my head, figure out college, and acknowledge Zoe Mona’s place in my life.
How could I have been so foolish as to not let Nico in when he practically begged to help me grow and support me?
I pull out my phone, wiping away my tears.
LILY
Hey Mol, can you send me a list of your therapists when you get a minute? I need to talk to someone about what happened this summer.
