Chapter 20 #2
He snorts. “When I ask you out on a date, you’ll know it.” He shoots me a mischievous look that I feel all the way to my core. “But I am glad I’ve already conned you into spending this particular evening with me.”
“Just promise me this time when I try to kiss you that you won’t reject me.” His whole body winces. “Too soon?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“I tried so hard to do the right thing.”
“In this case the wrong thing,” I point out.
“I thought it was the right thing,” he says. Neither of us verbalize the rest of that sentence that goes unsaid, heavy in the air. Maybe it was the right thing. Maybe we’ve screwed everything up. Maybe we’re both setting ourselves up for a nasty fall.
But his words from before ring through my ears. I don’t think I could possibly be sorry about last night.
It’s the only truth that matters. Because it’s true for me too. There’s no other word but “inevitable” to describe this summer path.
Before either of us can say anything else, my daily morning alarm goes off. “Oh shit,” he says, looking over and seeing the time.
“What?” Where could he possibly need to be right now, when usually he’s on the way to Belpagna?
“I’m worried about Luce,” he says with a grimace.
I sit up, the realization hitting me too.
“Oh my god! Luce!” I jump out of bed and walk quickly into the other room, searching the floor for his clothes.
I gather them up (we really did get quite haphazard with where we threw them) and then turn around to see him standing in the doorway, smirking at me.
“What?” I ask again, suddenly realizing I probably look a little ridiculous, flitting around my apartment naked while gathering his clothing.
“It’s cute that you’re also worried about Luce.” There’s affection written into that smirk, and it softens me. I hand his clothes over to him.
“He’s probably desperate to know where you are! Not to mention starving—”
“He has food out all the time. He’s a weird little grazer. And he has a dog door, so he can come in and out. He’s not trapped or anything.”
“Well, good,” I say, feeling slightly relieved by that. “But you know your absence is noted.”
He nods. “I do know that, yes.”
“Which is why you’re worried,” I finish.
“Yes.” He pulls me to him and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. “I don’t want to rush out on you, and I know there’s probably more to talk about—”
“Can we just . . . not?” I blurt out, desperate to end this train of conversation as quickly as it’s started.
At his confused expression, I rush to clarify: “I don’t mean in terms of like .
. .” I wave my hands back and forth between us.
“This. Us. Not happening. That’s not what I mean by ‘not.’ I just mean in terms of talking about it.
” I pause to see if he’s following my nonsensical babbling, but inexplicably he seems to be.
“I think we know, Nico. We both know this train has left the station. Whatever is happening between us is happening. If we talk about it, we’ll both just get more confused and possibly sad?
And I think you’re right that we should enjoy the summer and not worry about whatever comes with me leaving, okay? ”
I spit all that out so fast. Maybe it’s nervous energy propelling me, but for some reason the idea of talking rationally about this irrational set of feelings is practically giving me hives.
If we’re going to enjoy the moment and ignore the consequences, then let’s go all in and fully ignore them.
I really cannot imagine exploring what’s roiling me underneath.
Nico’s eyes are on mine, scanning, trying to read.
I wish he could still see the calm from earlier this morning, something in there for him other than Panic!
Avoidance! Sex! But maybe seeing all of that has compelled him to agree with me, to push our inevitable problems further out and live in the right now.
He gingerly plucks his pants out of my proffered hands and starts pulling them on. “Okay,” he says. “‘Enjoy the summer’ it is. I can do that.”
He pulls me to him and wraps his arms around me. I’m already pouty that he has clothes back on while I don’t. “I guess this means I’m going to be eating your bomboloni at Belpagna, since you’ll be checking on Luce. You’re missing out.”
His grin is wide and boyish. “I don’t think I’d categorize today as me missing out.”
I roll my eyes. “Any day without Emilia’s pastries is missing out.” I try once again to push away the thought that keeps elbowing its way to the forefront—that someday soon that’ll be my reality again.
“So bring me some when you come later,” he says with a shrug. “It’ll be our stakeout snack food.”
“You’d rather have Belpagna than whatever dessert we end up making at Pasta Fresca?” I say with mock astonishment.
“Don’t make me choose between your food and Emilia’s.” He wrestles his shirt over his head and slips his feet into his shoes. “I’m happy just with you showing up later. I have no need for any desserts.”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you completely avoiding the question.”
He crinkles his nose with a grin. “See, this is why I like you so much. Nothing gets by you.”
He gives me a quick peck on the lips and walks out the door with a chuckle.
Just like that.
Just like nothing’s changed and everything’s changed. From one day to the next, Nico isn’t simply my friend anymore.
I like him too. So much.