He is not wrong.
ME: Easy for you to say.
NICO: No. It’s not. But I’m still saying it.
NICO: I’m not hiding. I’m… managing.
NICO: You’re hiding. Behind your marble and your job and your last name.
ME: And you’re hiding behind your crashes and your fan club.
There. I can cut too.
Long pause.
NICO: I crashed today and still walked to bed alone. I’m not hiding, Élise. I’m just asking you to show up.
Guilt twists sharp.
ME: I can’t just “show up.” That’s not how my life works.
The dots appear. Disappear. Then:
NICO: Focus on your marble cage if that’s what you want. I’ll focus on my downhill.
I type.
Delete.
Type again.
ME: Goodnight, Nico.
There is a long, empty stretch of nothing.
Finally:
NICO: Goodnight, princess.
There is more in that word than there ever was before. Admiration. Resentment. Want. Distance.
I put the phone face-down and stare at the ceiling.
If this is just rebellion, just a game, just a way to feel something other than trapped…
Then why does it feel like drowning?
Chapter 7
Italian Shade
Playlist:
Imagine Dragons: Radioactive
