I laugh, still catching my breath. “I don’t think she is.”
She sighs, then looks up at me, her expression caught somewhere between exasperated and amused. “I was just getting to the good part.”
“We can revisit it,” I say, brushing my thumb across her cheeks and trying not to sound too eager. “Soon.”
We lay there for another minute, catching our breaths, then slowly start to untangle.
Before she sits up fully, she pauses. “Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“Would you… Like to…”
“Would you like to what?” I say, a smile tugging at my lips as she struggles with the words.
“This doesn’t have to be a thing,” she says carefully. “I’m not expecting anything. But we can if we… want to keep doing this. While we’re here. You know, so we’re not lonely.”
I blink because I can’t make sense of her proposal.
“Like, a no-pressure pact,” she says. “To help us relax.”
I nod, my voice quiet. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Okay,” she says, and she gives me a big smile that reaches her eyes. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
I grab my shirt from the floor and turn to follow her, but she stops me with a hand on my chest. “You need a minute.”
I look down at the front of my pants and decide that yes, I definitely need a minute.
When the door clicks shut behind her, I sit back on the edge of the bed, running a hand through my hair. My pulse is still hammering, my shirt still wrinkled on the floor, and all I can think is: what just happened? This trip was supposed to be a clean break, a chance to clear my head and keep things simple. Instead, it feels like I’ve stumbled into something bigger than myself—something I can’t quite name but don’t want to let go of.
I tug my shirt back on, exhaling slowly. Maybe this isn’t a distraction. Maybe it’s exactly what I need. A no-pressure pact with her.
15
MANUELA
“A no-pressure pact?”I mutter to myself as I go down the stairs. “What kind of fucking idiot suggests something like that? God, not like you’re in your mid-thirties or something.”
The words sound even louder out loud. A no-pressure fling. With someone Ibarelyknow.I mean, sure—we get along. There’s chemistry. There’s definitely attraction. He listens when I talk. He makes me laugh. He looked at me like I was the only person in the universe last night and again five minutes ago when his hands were halfway under my shirt.
But this?
During this trip?
Too many eyes. Too many questions. And I’ve never been the type to do this, to hook up on a trip, let alone with someone in the same friend group. I’ve dated, sure, but it’s always been deliberate, slow, something with labels and expectations. Maybe I’m just touch-starved and it’s making me delusional. That’s what it is.
I reach the bottom step, slow my pace, try to smooth the flush from my face with my palms. I make it two feet into the hallwaybefore Nicole appears out of nowhere like she’s been waiting to corner me.
She’s holding a wineglass and wearing a gauzy linen set that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe. There’s a glint in her eyes that I can’t place.
“Oh, hey,” she says, voice light and friendly in a way that makes all my instincts stand on edge. “You missedaperitivo.”
“Lost track of time,” I say, keeping my tone breezy.
She sips her wine. “Connor too?”
I blink. “Sorry?”
