Chapter 12
“The fishing part is done,” Nico says. And it’s over, just like that. “The fish are hungry in the morning; now they’re full. It’s nap time.”
“I can relate,” I comment.
“Time to relax!” Nico throws his arms up, smiling. He peels off his shirt and thin athletic pants.
Up close, Nico is even more mesmerizing than he was on the beach. And in a shocking twist, he’s been hiding a drool-worthy upper thigh tattoo, the tail of which peeks out the bottom of his slim-fitting swim shorts.
One of us needs to say something, and stat, because we’re all silent and staring, so I take one for the team.
“I’m definitely down for that.” Then I immediately avert my eyes and start rummaging through my backpack because I need to find something, anything, to distract me from Nico’s abs and mystery tattoo.
Anya and Mari find similar distractions. Anya digs up the end of a pen to chew on, whispering out of the side of her mouth, “You were right. Definitely less than ten percent.”
The sun rises higher, and with it goes the temperature. Mari is the first to strip off her cover-up to suntan.
Nico cranks the volume on a small Bluetooth speaker and soon we are loose, desensitized by sheer necessity to the fact that we are sharing space with an Italian Adonis.
We lounge around, and I enjoy a few nonalcoholic drinks.
It’s actually very nice. Relaxing. Exactly as I hoped it would be.
My hangover is already melting away. And while I won’t admit it, fishing was pretty great too. I almost get the appeal.
“Sora, look.” Mari nudges me, showing me more margin notes in her book. This time they’re about the serenity of water. “I love how this person thinks. Wouldn’t it be romantic if I could find them?”
“I think the FBI does handwriting profiling,” I suggest, only half joking. “Maybe they could help you track this person down?”
“They use that for serial killers and kidnappers, Sora,” Mari says.
“Well maybe it’s a ‘kill two birds with one stone’ kind of scenario?” I smile, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “Sorry, Mar. I think this mystery note writer is probably best left in your memory. As they say, never meet your heroes.”
“You’re probably right.” Mari sighs, flipping to the next page.
The rumble from a nearby boat gets louder. Someone yells, “Nico!”
I look up to see a girl hanging over the side of the approaching boat, waving her arm back and forth in greeting.
It’s not Beach Girl, but another young, attractive woman, her hair styled in a bob that brushes her shoulders, deep brown with a streak of pink.
A flurry of animated Italian gets exchanged between them.
“Perfecto. Our breakfast has arrived,” Nico says.
“Oh!” Mari perks up, tucking her book safely away.
“Time to meet my cousins—and all their friends.” Nico jumps into action and works to tie his boat to the second boat, where another ten people wait.
Once the boats are linked, he helps us cross over.
I’m surprised to find his hand warm and soft.
It feels different from Wes’s hand, but I can’t explain why. Stronger, maybe?
We are run through the assembly line of introductions.
Nico’s companion from the beach isn’t here, which I know because I mentally eliminate each girl whose hand I shake.
I’ve always been horrible at names and forget most everyone’s right away, but his extended family and friends are welcoming and kind.
Most are armed with drinks and are more than ready to get this boat party started.
One of Nico’s friends wraps him in a hug. “When do you go back to Roma?”
“Not sure if I will be,” Nico says. His friend shrugs, unfazed, but I perk up, my ears buzzing. This is a new development. What about his fellowship? I try to catch Nico’s eye, but he avoids my gaze, and I can’t decide if it’s intentional.
I walk around, exploring the large boat—a yacht compared to Nico’s jalopy.
It’s a spotless, shiny white and I can see my reflection in its glossy enamel.
They have a small kitchen table set up with a tablecloth.
There’s a huge spread of restaurant-quality food—platters of sfogliatella dusted with powdered sugar, Danishes drizzled with lemon compote—which is perfect, since my stomach has been growling since yesterday afternoon.
I lift the corner of a cloth napkin to reveal a rainbow of fresh fruit: wedges of blood orange, whole apricots with their leafy stems still on, and slivers of juicy cantaloupe.
Another plate is artfully designed with alternating slices of cheese and meat.
Nico makes himself a croissant sandwich, layering a slice of cheese, then meat.
He scarfs one down in three bites and sets to making another.
He and his cousin Aurora, the girl who had waved to us, remind me of my own family, and for a moment I’m nostalgic for our Persian breakfasts, smearing feta cheese inside pita and drizzling my aunt’s syrupy cherry jam in the pocket.
I pour a glass of orange juice from the large glass pitcher before making myself a small plate.
I start with a sfogliatella and Danish to soak up the remnants of last night’s alcohol and pile on a huge helping of the fresh fruit.
I tuck myself away at the breakfast table.
Seconds later, one of the guys I met in the assembly line scoots in next to me.
“Oh, hello,” he says with a devious smile that I can tell has gotten him into trouble.
“You’re related to Nico too?” I ask. He’s got a sleeve of tattoos down his left arm and the same smooth, tanned skin.
“Lorenzo.” He sticks his hand out. “Nico’s more attractive cousin.”
“Is that so?” I laugh, glancing at Nico and taking note of his annoyance as he rolls his eyes. “Soraya.” I meet his hand, and he holds on to mine.
“I hear you’re from America—Savannah? On the Atlantic coast, in the south?”
“Yes.” I’m surprised. “You’re familiar with the area?”
“Oh, yes. Very. Like Outer Banks? The TV show.” Lorenzo nods.
Mari covers her mouth as she laughs.
“It’s not exactly like Outer Banks. Similar, but there are no treasure hunts or pirates. Hard to explain without seeing it yourself,” I say.
“So you’re inviting me to come visit? Very kind.” Lorenzo leans his elbows on the table, forest-green eyes sparkling. “I have a lot going on, but I could make it work.”
“I don’t think that’s exactly what I said, is it?” I cock my head to the side.
He winks. “You say lemon, I say limone.” He gets up and walks away.
Nico is flustered next to me, breathing all hard.
“What is going on with you? Are you having an asthma attack?”
“Tired routine.” Nico scoffs, nodding toward Lorenzo. “Lorenzo the Lothario, they call him in town.”
“I think he’s charming.” I smirk, mostly joking, because poking at Nico never gets old.
For all my resistance this morning, I am fully here for what has turned into an absolutely raging boat party.
The music gets cranked up and a half dozen pool floats are thrown in the water.
Anya and Mari jump in soon after, carefree and splashing.
I won’t admit it aloud, but I’m super happy to be a part of it all.
“Come in the water, Sora!” Mari yells from her flamingo float.
“Maybe in a bit!” I yell back. “My mom says you aren’t supposed to swim for two hours after eating!”
I’m not avoiding the water. I just want to soak everything in. I’ve found myself enjoying little pockets of alone time. So much will be changing, so soon. Maybe this is me trying to figure out how it will feel to be off on my own with them come fall.
Plus, I hate to admit that being around all these shirtless guys only makes me miss the one person I wish was here: Wes. And fine. Sitting here also gives me a chance to text him. I haven’t heard from him since our night abruptly ended, and I’ve been tethered to my phone.
How’s your day? I text him a selfie with Anya and Mari in the background.
Looks fun! Miss ya! he writes back soon after.
You didn’t answer, silly! But no response comes through, and then I reread my text over and over, trying to decide if it came off too clingy.
After another minute of waiting, I force myself to tuck the phone away.
My legs dangle off the side of the platform, feet swishing back and forth in the water.
A shadow appears. It’s Nico, sliding in next to me. We sit in companionable silence for a minute as we watch the group playing in the water.
“So that’s really your cousin? Not a paid actress or anything?” I nod my chin in the direction of Aurora, who is trying to coax Mari up on a large Popsicle float by splashing playfully at her.
“Yes, that’s my actual cousin, Sora,” Nico says.
“Not sure I see the resemblance.” I sneak a glance to see if he smiles at this. There’s an obvious likeness—identical hazel eyes and that warmth that leads you to lower your guard. I take a breath. “I’m sorry for accusing you of being a murderer.”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”
“Wait, really?” I turn to look at him.
“No, Sora. No one has ever accused me of being a murderer before. This is not a normal thing to say to someone.” I almost expect him to be mad—maybe I took it too far. But he’s not. He’s laughing.
Only because I can, I get in one last dig. “Lots of vacation left, though. You might wind up killing me before the end.”
Nico stares out to sea. “Is this how people apologize in America?”
I bite down on my lip, throwing the last corner of my Danish in the water for the birds. They descend, pecking it to dust within seconds. “No. Just me.”
“I see.” Nico turns and studies me. “So, your late-night meet-up?”
“What about it?” I’m instantly defensive.
“When in Rome, as they say,” Nico says, a smile dancing on his lips. “It’s kind of obvious you aren’t sneaking off to go stargazing.”
I laugh awkwardly, hot all over. What does he know? Has he told Anya and Mari? “You’re quite the detective.”
Nico does not mind the silence, I’ve noticed, doesn’t rush to fill it up like I feel like I have to. He’s content to sit in it until he has something to say. He just bumps my thigh with his and says, “Well, you always look very nice.”
My ears warm as a shiver runs up my spine. “Thank you.”
Mari and Anya swim over to the edge of the boat, and I’m thankful for the escape. Anya treads water while Mari grips the side of the boat to stay afloat.
“You don’t want to come in?” Mari asks, wiping back her hair.
“I’m really loving sitting here and taking it all in.” I close my eyes and tilt my face to the sun. “It makes me feel like I’m the lifeguard. I’m drunk with power.”
“Okay,” Mari says, but there’s that bit of hurt in her voice again. I don’t understand it. I’m right here—I’m still partaking.
“She’s just scared she wouldn’t survive a dunking.” Anya attempts a free-floating handstand, and it is not graceful in the slightest. When she surfaces, she coughs up a gallon of water, then shoots me a smile before swimming off. “Chicken.”
Once they are far enough away, I seize the opportunity to ask Nico about what I overheard.
“Were you serious earlier? When you said you might not go back to university?”
Nico shrugs. His gaze drops to a freckle on my shoulder.
“It’s a lot different, living in Rome—it doesn’t feel like home.
I’ve lived in Sorrento all my life, so sometimes I feel swallowed up by the city.
And there’s so much to take care of here.
My mother needs me. Since my dad died, well… things have not come easy.”
“But you seemed so excited for that program! And I thought you wanted to travel.” He doesn’t answer immediately, so the only sound is the swishing of the water as I drag my feet back and forth through the sea. “Does your mom know?”
Nico runs a hand through his hair. “She would be furious. It’s important to her that I live my own life, that I’m not worried about her.”
“I’m sure that’s not easy to do.” I want to tell Nico I know about the pre-foreclosure letter, that he can talk about it if he needs to.
I want to say that I get it, kind of—up until college, I’ve always been able to find a way to make things turn out how I wanted them to, but now it feels like I’m running headfirst into an unshakable wall.
I want to tell him that this is a huge burden to carry alone.
But I don’t know how to broach the topic.
“You’re the first person I’ve admitted this to.” He sighs. “Everyone else thinks I’d be crazy to pass on the opportunity.”
A wave of guilt comes over me at my epic tantrum when we checked in. Nico has been spending every spare minute trying to do maintenance and repairs and all I had were complaints. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You want to help? You’re on vacation.” Nico stares at me. “Who does that?”
“I do. I do that,” I say. “Think about it.”
“Well, let it be said that you’re definitely not like anyone else, Soraya.” Nico pops up, diving into the water to go join the group.
“I’m going to take that as a good thing!” I shout after him.
“Oh, it is,” he says, then turns, pausing. “Your back is very, very sunburned, by the way. How did that happen? You should put on some sunscreen.”