Matt smirks. “I like it. We look like two people in the same friend group who put up with each other but then drink too much at engagement parties and birthdays and ruin Friendsgiving. Lots of rage bubbling just beneath the surface.”
“That’s a substantial amount of detail,” I tell him.
“I’m a writer,” he says. “It’s kind of my thing.”
I raise my eyebrows as I look up at him, faintly impressed. “I work in the arts, too.” If he’s impressed by me, he doesn’t show it. I try not to give him the stink eye as I return my attention to the picture. “So then, writer extraordinaire, what should the caption say? Do I specifically have to mention you?”
“You could nonchalantly mention me. Something understated. Say I’m like a newly released Adele song morphed into human form.”
I bark out a laugh. “It’s good to know that on top of all your other charming qualities, you’re also delusional.” I think for a second before typingWhen in Rome...#wanderlust.
I show it to Matt and he gives me a shrug. “Not terrible,” he concedes.
I grin and press Share. “Done. A smiling photo of you is now in existence. How does it feel?”
“Like I just mass texted a nude photo of myself. You should delete it.”
I shake my head. “Too late. It’s already on the cloud. Plus, this Insta-farce was your idea.”
“It was more for you than me. Now you’ll have a point of reference when you doodle pictures of me in your dream journal.”
I think about elbowing him in the chin, but ultimately decide not to do my elbow the disservice. “You’re insufferable,” I tell him.
“The feeling’s mutual.”
We’re two seconds away from glaring each other into oblivion when someone behind us clears their throat. We glance around and up to find Marco curiously looking down at the two of us, who are still nestled together in our picture pose.
“I have the sneaking suspicion that I’ve missed something important in the last twenty minutes,” he says.
Snapping back to reality, I scoot my chair away from Matt until I’m sitting at a respectable distance. “It’s actually a very funny story,” I tell Marco. “I’ll explain it to you later.”
“Um, yeah, you will.”
“Right,” I say, promptly standing and smoothing out my only-just-drying shirt. “And on that note, Matt, it was an absolute joy to meet you. We should totally do this again sometime.”
He takes in my overly feigned sweetness with bland acceptance. “I’d rather not.”
“Took the words right out of my mouth.” I grab my luggage and give it a pull, hoping to leave less mayhem during my exit than I did during my entrance.
Of course the waiter returns with our drinks at that exact moment, and I dig into my bag to pull out a bill for ten euros, which I place onto Matt’s side of the table.
“This should cover the coffee.Arrivederci.”
“Give my best to Theo,” he says as I step away, hastily moving toward the exit.
Marco follows as we drag our luggage along, and we’re safely out of the café when he suddenly starts to cough.
“Are you okay?” I ask, turning around to face him.
“Yeah, sorry,” he answers, moving his hand to his throat. “The air was just so thick with sexual tension between you andMattthat I’m having trouble breathing.”
I roll my eyes and continue down the street, heading for the taxi stand on the next block. “The only thing hanging in the air between Matt and me was unbridled animosity.”
“Yeah, right,” Marco replies. “I spied on you guys for three whole minutes before I came over and if I wasn’t concerned that you’d get locked up abroad for having very public hate sex, I wouldn’t have come over at all.”
I consider telling Marco that I’d sooner do the backstroke naked in a pool of piranhas before having any form of sex with Matt, but I can see from the look in his eyes that he’s ready to debate this topic for no less than an eternity.
Accepting that nothing will placate him, I settle for offering, “What can I say? Never a dull moment with me.”
