Chapter Sixteen
Then all the details of last night come flooding back, destroying my brain’s dental dam of denial.
Nico.
Nico touching me.
Nico touching me and feeling me and filling me—
I feel his breath, heavy against the back of my neck, before I see him.
He’s partially on top of me, his arm thrown over my waist and a leg sprawled over my thighs, holding me tightly against him in his sleep. Our night on the roof feels hazy, like a story I read when I was a child. The glow of the skyscrapers lighting our dilated pupils.
Nico’s tongue against my pulse points.
My hands locked in his hair.
You have no idea, do you?
Absolutely fucking perfect.
I bite my tongue.
He had to have been exaggerating, right? There’s no way Nico—grumpy, cynical, disaster-obsessed Nico—has been harboring an actual crush on me for a little less than a decade.
I mean, I would have noticed if he was.
But then again, they say the line between love and hate is thinner than a G-string.
Although Nico doesn’t believe in love.
Just like that, my heart takes a back seat while my head takes the wheel.
I need to be practical about this. Forward-thinking.
I can’t fall for Nico’s dirty words or earnest promises, whispered like a quiet prayer after a few glasses of wine and some minor trauma bonding, and under the cover of night to boot.
Our emotions were heightened, along with our stress levels.
One night of good—okay, fine, incredible, best I’ve ever had, is that what you want to hear?
!—sex with a man who practically brags about his commitment to not committing cannot derail my plans.
After all, Nico is here to chase some woman, not spend time with me.
And I’m here for one reason and one reason only: to meet Ryan Mare. The real-life Ryke.
The potential love of my life.
Nico can’t even be the love of my right now.
It’s simple. Factual, even. Makes perfect sense.
So why does the idea of leaving the safety of this bed make me feel violently ill?
“Hey.”
I’m startled out of my inner monologue to find those clear blue eyes staring at me. They’re drowsy with sleep, slightly puffy from our eventful last couple of days, but there’s an undeniable flicker of intimacy hidden in those baby blues. It’s enough to make my insides melt.
“Hey yourself.”
My voice comes out raspy and weird. I sound nothing like myself. Wincing, I attempt to run a casual hand through my hair, but it’s knotted beyond belief after last night’s, erm, activities.
“Gentle,” Nico says. He props himself up on his elbow, then runs his fingers through the tangles slowly, combing with patience until my hand is free. The gesture feels oddly tender. Not what I need at present.
He gives me a cocky, triumphant grin before falling back onto his pillow.
I gulp.
“Thank you,” I say. “Look, Nico. Last night was—”
“A revelation?”
“I was going to say satisfactory,” I snap, unwilling to feed his oversize ego.
“Sure you were.” His fingers dance up my neck, massaging my left shoulder, then my right. “You know, you’re a lot less prickly when my tongue’s between your legs.”
My cheeks instantly heat. “Say one more word, and I’ll cut off said tongue and use it as a bookmark,” I grumble.
“Kinky,” he says, winking.
Before I can get the last word, he grabs my torso and pulls me down until my chest is pressed against his own.
We collapse back onto the mattress, soft and warm from our sleep, and he peppers my body with sweet, featherlight kisses.
Against my better judgment, I giggle and exhale.
Allow myself to enjoy this fleeting moment of bliss before my quest continues.
“We should really get going,” I whisper, just as Nico nibbles on a particularly sensitive spot behind my ear.
“Oh yeah?” He laps at the spot, soothing the bite. “What’s the rush? Does Angel host a leftist Pilates class here in the mornings or something?”
“Well, no.” I swallow a laugh at that visual. “But I was planning on catching Ryan Mare outside his office. I figured I might show up before he starts work today. Intercept him and say hi. Introduce myself. Something like that.”
Nico’s body freezes. His hands tense so much, I worry they’ll leave marks on my skin.
“You’re not serious,” he says. A statement and a question.
“Angel is lending me a couple hundred bucks, and Roy has a burner phone for some reason that he said I can use. It should be enough to last me a couple of days, then get us both back to Mystic. Unless, of course, it’s love at first sight, and Ryan and I plan a shotgun wedding…”
I expect him to laugh.
Snort, at the very least.
He does neither.
Instead, he stares at me, blank-faced.
Waiting for me to add something.
A Gotcha! or a Just kidding.
Anything.
But I just lie in his arms like an idiot, blanketed by the silence.
“Okay,” he finally says. “I’m going to take a shower, and then we’ll go.”
“Wait—”
But he doesn’t wait. He practically throws off the comforter and stalks toward the bathroom, head hanging low, avoiding my gaze.
He moves so fast that I hardly have time to appreciate his naked body in the daylight, all those firm lines and taut muscles.
The trail of light hair leading down his abdomen.
I swallow, my thoughts transforming into that of a prepubescent boy.
Stop it, I chastise myself. This is Nico. Nico!
He showers for about five minutes, then returns to the room fully and unfortunately clothed. Gone is the low-slung towel from the motel, the playful look in his eyes. Was all of that intentional? An attempt to woo me?
Have I been so blind to Nico as a love interest that I’ve failed to consider him as a leading man?
Without so much as glancing at me, he begins to throw items into his backpack with so much force, you’d think his deodorant owed him money. When he gets to my copy of A Tale of Salt Water I’m taken aback by his aggression. Nico knows exactly how to get under my skin, but he rarely blows his lid at me like this. He normally wouldn’t dare.
“You knew why I was coming here,” I say slowly. “I’ve been up-front with you from the jump.”
He drops his face into his hands. “I know.”
The words come out muted against his palms.
“And you said you were okay with it,” I continue. “That it was none of your business—”
“That was before!” He waves his hands around in the air.
I blink several times, caught off guard by this display of emotion.
He sighs, then lowers himself onto the bed. “Look, I’m sorry for yelling. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that.”
“It’s okay,” I say. Then I take a deep breath. “Nico, last night was fun—”
“Fun?” He laughs haughtily. “Hockey games are fun. Ferris wheels are fun.”
“But we both know that we’re looking for different things,” I continue.
“I want to fall in love. Nail-biting, toe-curling, knock-you-off-your-feet love. And no matter how”—I don’t have the words to describe what being with him in that way was like—“special last night felt, we both know you can’t give me that.
I need to hear the words. I need to see the actions.
Feelings, sensations—they’re not enough. It has to be…well, you know.”
“Real?” His voice is back to that cold, distant tone.
“Yeah.” I swallow. “Real.”
“That’s your problem, Joonie. It always has been. God, I feel so stupid. You’re so focused on the image you have in your head that you miss what’s right in front of you.” He laughs half-heartedly. “You say you want something real, but you’re still living in a fantasy.”
His words hit me like an anvil.
Just like that, I’m transported back to high school. I’m standing in that gymnasium, staring at Nico as he looks back at me with hollow red eyes. Holding Sam’s hips flush against his, head hanging low. Reeking of gin and smoke and bitter regrets.
I wasn’t enough.
I’m never enough.
When I look back up at Nico, my eyes are brimming with unshed tears. Instantly, I see the regret on his face, in the lines on his forehead.
“Shit, Joonie,” he says, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You better go,” I tell him. “That girl will be wondering where you are.”
His eyes linger on me for a second.
Then he nods curtly, grabbing his backpack. With his hand on the doorknob, he turns his head a quarter of an inch back so that I’m in his periphery. Some taped-up, badly glued together piece of me cracks.
“I hope you get your happy ending,” he says.
And then he walks out the door.