30
T his is bad. How have I let myself catch feelings—real feelings—for Teller?
It’s not that lightning bolt of infatuation I felt with Caleb. No. It’s more like a song that’s been playing in the background, waiting for me to slow down and listen hard enough to learn the lyrics. It’s a simmer of affection that’s been churning under the surface all along, only now it’s finally bubbled over.
I think back to our Cinema days, all the stolen glances while cleaning. How I’d marvel over his profile from the passenger seat of his car, how his jaw would flex and tense when he was deep in thought. I think about the flutters in my stomach whenever his name pops up on my phone. How my fingers fly over the keyboard whenever I text him, how there’s always so much I want to say but never enough time.
I don’t know if I realized how lost I felt this year without him. Inviting him on this trip wasn’t purely for moral support when meeting The One, or to help distract him from Sophie. Truthfully, the idea of being near him again made me happier than I could admit.
Still, none of it sits right. Do I think Teller wants to hook up with me? Absolutely. Do I think he’s in love with me? No. He’s still in love with Sophie. I’ve spent almost our entire friendship witnessing Teller Owens in love. He gives his all. And Sophie was his everything. He can’t just move on in one month.
And even if Sophie or Caleb weren’t a factor, we’re so different; it’s almost laughable. Half the time, I’m convinced he can only put up with me in short bursts. These differences may work for our friendship. But romantically? I’m not so sure.
Then there’s the glaring fact: Teller simply isn’t my soulmate. Regardless of my feelings, he’s not meant to be mine and I’m not meant to be his. So even if our feelings are mutual, how would we live with the fact that it’s only temporary? That there is someone better for him out there, and for me, and we’re just delaying the inevitable. Our friendship has meant so much to me over the years, but it’s like a tightrope. Any misstep could tip the balance.
It’s better this way because I have a soulmate. Caleb. That’s the thing about being a Zhao woman. Everyone you might like or even love is temporary until The One comes along. And Teller isn’t someone I could ever classify as “temporary.” Losing him would be absolutely devastating, which is why it’s crucial we stay friends.
As good as it felt to be with him, it’s not worth losing him. Nothing is.
That’s why I’ve adopted a new strategy—Get Through the Next Few Days. What does that entail? Basically, avoid him as much as possible without ignoring him or making things worse. That means not getting too close, no prolonged eye contact, absolutely no alone time, and certainly no touching. Not even a hug. Italy is far too romantic for any potential slipups.
Luckily, the Amalfi Coast makes for an easy distraction.
The four of us spend the next morning weaving back and forth along the winding pathways, exploring the town center. While Dad and Mei check out a museum, Teller follows me dutifully as I dip in and out of various boutiques, riffling through racks of linens and vibrant resort wear. We explore the labyrinth of alleyways and endless staircases, most of which offer views of the Crayola buildings along the sea. We scour jewelry shops and souvenir shops lined with novelty T-shirts, refrigerator magnets, and tea towels. We even stumble into a ceramics studio, where we find pottery and decorative pieces made of colorful glass mosaics. Teller buys an intricately patterned plate for his mom.
On the way to meet up with Dad and Mei, we duck into one more store at the end of a narrow alley. Its whitewashed walls cascade with bougainvillea. There’s an array of beachwear that’s neither of our styles, but we pretend to look with interest so as not to offend the watchful store clerk.
She spies Teller eyeing a floor-length zebra-print muumuu and swoops in like a bat out of hell, her floral poncho swishing with every step. “I’ll get you a dressing room for that,” she declares.
Teller stiffens. “Oh, um, no thank you. I’m just browsing.”
“I really think you ought to try it on. It’s one of those polarizing pieces. Some people can pull it off, some people can’t,” she says.
“No, really—I—”
“You wouldn’t want to get home and find it doesn’t fit,” she argues.
He shoots me a look that says Please extract me from this situation, so I sidle up next to him. “We’ll both try one on,” I say cheerfully, pointing to the bold orange-and-pink muumuu next to it.
“I hate you so much,” Teller mouths as the clerk whisks them to the changing rooms.
I figured she was just having a bit of fun, but when Teller emerges in the zebra muumuu, the clerk quite literally gasps. “Oh my word. It was made for you,” she says, dead serious.
She actually has a point. Teller looks good. Though I think it has less to do with the zebra muumuu and more to do with his adorably handsome face. Why did it take me so long to notice?
“Yeah, Tel. It was made for you,” I say, twirling and posing like a pageant girl. I have to admit, the muumuu is comfortable as heck. I think I need it. Teller shoots me daggers, and I shimmy into the changing room to hide my silent fit of laughter.
“I can’t believe I got pressured into buying an animal-print muumuu,” Teller mutters as we exit the store. After minutes of the clerk listing all the ways it flatters his coloring, his eyes, his hair, his “sexy” figure, he got overwhelmed and caved.
“Oh, come on, we reached a new level in our friendship—friendship muumuus!” I say, far too enthusiastically. I really don’t know how to act around him anymore.
“I’m not talking to you for the rest of the trip,” he grumbles, eyeing his bag like it’s filled with angry wasps.
We’re just approaching the restaurant when I hear “Lo!”
My body zings at the sound. It’s too familiar.
“Lo!” I hear again, so I spin around.
Rucksack on his back, sun-kissed curls blowing in the coastal breeze. Caleb is standing right in front of me.
“Caleb?” I manage.
He gives me a warm smile and scoops me into his arms. I’m taken aback. This is a far cry from his look of utter terror the last time we saw each other.
What is he doing here? And why is he acting like he didn’t just vanish from Florence without notice?
“How ... How are you here?”
He opens his mouth to say something, but a lanky redheaded guy in one of those low-cut, neon bro–tank tops interrupts. One look and I can see he and Caleb are friends. He has that same hippie-surfer vibe.
Either his friend doesn’t register the tension between us or he’s ignoring it.
“Nice to meet you, Lo,” he says, extending his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Freddie.” Heard a lot about me? That I’m a crazy person?
I peer at Caleb, who just smiles back at me nervously. “Nice to meet you too. And all good things, I hope.”
“This is my friend—the one I backpacked with through Australia and New Zealand. We met up in Naples,” Caleb explains, eyes flicking toward Teller in the periphery. I wave him over, and he and Caleb do one of those awkward bro hugs where they clap each other on the back. Teller gives him a harder-than-normal thwack , which delights me more than it should.
“Can we talk really quick?” Caleb asks, turning back to me.
I nod and follow him out of earshot. My legs are two strips of jelly. One gust of wind too many and I might topple over. I assumed that if I ever saw Caleb again, I’d be delighted, relieved that I wasn’t wrong about him after all. His presence would affirm that he is The One. But now he’s here, mere feet from me, wringing his hands and looking apologetic as hell. “Lo, I am so, so sorry. I have so much to explain.”
I may be mad at him, but his apology face is adorable. So adorable, I have to look away for the sake of my dignity. “Yeah, you do.”
He presses his palms together. “I knew when I left that it was a bitch move. I guess I was just—” He runs his hand through his curls. “I was just caught off guard by what you said, and I freaked out.”
“It was. You didn’t owe me anything, but you could have given me a heads-up that you were leaving. I was really hurt,” I say.
“I get it. And I know it’s probably too little, too late. And you’re only here a couple more days, but I’d like to try to make it up to you, if you’ll let me.”
“It’s—sorry, I’m just a little surprised,” I say. I’m desperately trying to wrap my mind around what he’s saying, but it’s all hard to process in the middle of a bustling street with tourists milling about. And Teller only a few feet away.
The universe is really gunning for me. Right then, Mei and Dad happen upon us. Mei wastes no time introducing herself as my favorite aunt. Dad is polite and all smiles, but his handshake is firm.
“I know it’s a lot to spring on you, and I don’t expect an answer right now. But do you think you’d meet up with me later to talk?” he asks, swallowing nervously. It’s jarring to see him like this. He’s always so confident, and I seem to be making him nervous.
I manage a nod. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
He checks his watch and looks over his shoulder at his friend. “Shit. Freddie and I are going ocean kayaking. Here, I’ll give you his number.” He reaches for my phone and adds Freddie to my contacts. “I’ll text you through him, okay?”
I take my phone back and send a text that says Lo’s number . “Okay. See you later.”
Caleb shoots me a hopeful smile over his shoulder that hits me right in the heart. I sag against a nearby building, trying to process what just happened.
“You didn’t know he was going to be here, huh?” Mei asks.
“No. He knew my itinerary, though. He came here for me. But what are the chances of running into each other on the street, of all the thousands of people in Positano right now? Do you think it’s fate?”
Mei’s chuckle echoes in the salty air. “If that’s not fate, I don’t know what is.”