Chapter Thirteen
I flip through the photos I’ve taken so far on the trip as the bus rumbles its way toward Nafplio.
This summer has transformed my camera roll into a blur of vibrant blues and purples, of white columns standing straight against the brightness of the sky, of enough orange stray cats to win that part of the scavenger hunt twice over, of the crisp whitewashed houses of the islands and the animated street art of the city.
I’ve documented so much on this trip, but I have no idea how to translate the awe I felt at all these sites into anything meaningful.
Liam plops down onto the seat next to me, and I look up at him in surprise. He’s usually too carsick to be anywhere near the back of the bus, but I couldn’t handle sitting too near the rest of the cohort for this ride.
“I can’t take it anymore,” he mutters. “I’d rather vom than listen to Amalia make one more pointed comment.”
I shudder. “Oof. Is it really that bad up there?”
“I have no idea what they’re even arguing about,” Liam says, shaking his head.
“Does she still think he’s trying to steal her project idea?” I ask, tilting my head to watch Amalia and George stare out opposite windows in pointed silence.
“That’s what I heard her saying, but it feels like there’s gotta be more to it,” Liam says under his breath.
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. The truth is, there’s more to what’s going on between Liam and me as well. The abandoned bucket list, the awkward silences, the certainty that he’s simmering with unspoken fury. But I’m too nervous to bring any of it up.
The bus takes a sharp, veering turn, bringing our first sight of Nafplio into view.
The vibrancy of its colors makes it feel like I’m looking at a photo with the saturation turned way up.
The jasmine and bougainvillea explode in rich purples and sweet whites among picturesque streets cutting through the red-tiled roofs of the buildings.
Beyond the leafy greenery outlining the city lies another view of the sea, the noon sun’s rays scattering across its surface.
At the bus’s sudden movement, the edges of Liam’s face go pale.
“I hate the back of the bus,” he says, and I pat his shoulder.
Besides, now clearly isn’t the time to have this conversation.
“I believe in you,” I tell him.
“Can’t believe I might vom anyway,” he mutters, and I laugh a little too loudly, trying to convince both of us that things are okay.
—
We spend our first morning in Nafplio at Bourtzi Castle, a Venetian tower on a little island a short ride away from the mainland. I sit next to Liam on the boat and tell myself that this counts as respecting our bucket list.
I do not believe this, to be clear.
But as soon as I plop down in the row next to him, I glance over at Melanie, and a fresh stab of guilt spears through me like a hot knife. Should I be sitting next to her? Is it a trick of the light, or is that hurt dashing her eyes?
The thought is enough to make me want to fling myself into the water and swim home.
The water’s dazzlingly clear enough that I’m tempted into thinking I could make it.
I’ll never tire of watching a boat cut through the water, sending frothy wavelets to either side of our path.
It would be so easy to just swim back to shore.
Instead, I lean on Liam’s shoulder, and he tilts to rest his cheek against the top of my head.
The boat rocks us gently enough that I don’t get seasick.
We reach the island a few minutes later.
It’s a small plot of paved land, the round stone structure of the castle emerging from one end, a fortress watching over the sea.
As we climb from the rocking boat onto the steady dock, I scoot over to find Melanie.
“How was your breakfast?” I ask her. “Can’t believe there was no morning baklava here.”
She grins. “You know that’s not a thing, right?”
“I’m on a mission to make it one.”
“You know what?” she says, slipping her hand in mine. “I support you.”
“Thanks,” I say solemnly. My palm immediately breaks out into a cold sweat, almost as if my body is trying to repel her. Is that a thing? Should I be paying attention to these signs?
I’m itching to take my phone out and look this up, but I can hardly do that in front of Melanie, so instead I look out at the water shimmering around the castle, the hard near-noon sunlight turning everything into the kind of brilliant gold you can’t look right at.
Bright white spots dance in my vision as I turn back to Melanie, and I can’t quite see her face.
All the same, I let her guide me around the pavement to the rounded edge of the castle.
The sun beats down on us, and I dab at the sweat accumulating on the back of my neck with my free hand.
“I should find Liam,” I say when we reach the castle’s chapel. She looks surprised, so I add, “He loves a fresco.”
“Who doesn’t,” she says, her tone flattening.
My footsteps seem to echo loudly across the dim interior of the chapel as I cross it to find Liam, alerting everyone with my movements. He smiles at me when I reach him.
“Don’t act like you and Melanie weren’t just holding hands,” he says, smirking.
I feel the steep red flooding my cheeks.
In my haste to make sure Melanie and I were okay, I didn’t pause to think about the fact that other people were watching.
Now everyone knows, and I’ve just gifted them all something to talk about.
Everyone is yearning for a break from Amalia and George’s drama, so this new gossip train might never run out of steam.
“Friends can hold hands,” I remind him, squeezing his fingers to prove my point.
He rolls his eyes as he turns back to the frescoes. “Not friends who are also clearly attracted to each other. Why are you trying to hide this from me?”
His voice cracks a bit as he reaches the word me, and I realize that the secrets are only adding to how mad he is at me.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly, my voice lowering as Lucy wanders past with Bodhi. “I’m not trying to hide anything from you. I just…”
“But I’m the only one here,” Liam whispers.
I nod, swallowing hard to keep the tears from spiking past the corners of my eyes.
His frustration feels like it’s pressing against the insides of my skull, and I have to swallow hard to push past the thick lump of anxiety balling in my throat.
Right now has to be about Liam. It’s just that the thing about anxiety is that sometimes it feels inherently selfish, like it’s always dragging my gaze inward so that I’m processing everything through the lens of my own self-consciousness, contorting it to fit the box of whatever I’m worrying about that day.
I take a deep breath, the kind that (and I do hate to admit it) Paige taught me about.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, my voice steady this time. “Trust me, I can feel myself being weird about all of this. I just feel so trapped in it. I’m sorry it hurt your feelings.”
Liam nudges my shoulder with his. “It’s okay. It’s not about me. I’m just worried about you, I guess.”
“Sorry I’m fundamentally broken,” I quip, wiggling my fingers at him.
He rolls his eyes but gives me a pity laugh. “You’re not broken.”
It feels like I am. Romance comes so easily to everyone around me.
My parents love reminiscing about when they first started dating in high school, and it always felt like they watched our first relationships with the expectation that things would work out just as easily for us.
And of course, now that Lizzie’s ready to meet her freshman-year-of-college boyfriend at the end of the aisle, and Andrea is packing for college with her high-school boyfriend in tow, my parents’ hopes have been more than met.
By everyone except me.
How are they all so sure? Why is everyone else able to find their footing on solid ground?
“I think I’m making a mess of the trip,” I whisper to Liam.
He squeezes my shoulder. “We should do something fun while we’re in Nafplio. Make you feel better. Maybe something off the bucket list?”
I swipe the edge of my tongue against my teeth, trying not to let the panic show in my eyes. Because of course I’ve been doing the bucket list. With someone else. And lying about it.
I want to tell him the truth. I’ve already been on a boat, but I’m still so down to go on one. It hasn’t really happened until it’ s happened with you. But the words clog in my throat, tangled in the usual net of fear woven by my ever-present overthinking.
“Yes, please,” I say instead. “I really want to spend more time together the rest of the trip.”
I’m not lying. Not really. That much feels like the truest thing I’ve ever said.
He gives me an easy smile, and I return it. But I’m still left with the nauseating feeling that we’re not all the way okay.
—
Our hopes of sneaking off that evening are dashed when Ms. Barlowe announces when we reach our hotel that we’ll be spending the rest of the afternoon preparing for the decathlon debate, which will happen after dinner.
“The topic up for discussion is Can Odysseus be considered a hero?” Ms. Barlowe tells us.
“You’ll have the afternoon to prepare with your teams.” She rattles two teams off the roster.
I find myself partnered with Bodhi and Amalia on the pro side, opposite Liam, who’s been assigned to the opposing team.
I try not to read into this as we split for the afternoon to prepare for our face-off this evening.
Amalia leads Bodhi and me to one of the hotel’s conference rooms, a cramped space that still manages to feel huge, with its windows giving us a view of the water stretching past the city.
Bodhi and I pause to stare, taking in the sparkling blue of the water framed by the greenery bursting around the city.
“We don’t have time to appreciate Greece,” Amalia says from the seat she’s taken at the circular table crammed into the center of the room. “We have to win this.”