“What if Wes has changed? Maybe college has made him mature?” I gently probe the group. “Peoplecanchange. You can’t deny that he and I always had insane chemistry…”
Anya throws her hands up. “Don’t go there, Soraya. Do not. Icannotwith you about him. We’re talking about the guy who didn’t say ‘I love you’ back at your own prom and then broke up with you in front of the entire school by telling you he only loved your friendship.Afterhe pursued you for months.”
Mari glances between us. “I think what Anya is trying to say is that Wes has shown how he values you. And as your friends who love you, it’s hard to talk about him. Maybe it’s best if we have a Wes-free vacation? Ruminating over him when he’s a gigantic ocean away seems like a huge waste of energy. Especially for you. Bathe yourself in this exciting adventure! Meet new people! Escape!”
“Yeah. Sure.” I turn away, hiding my glossy eyes. For months I’ve known that no one, not even my best friends, has wanted to hear about how I feel. That I’m a buzzkill. What options am I left with if even Mari is demanding a Wes-free vacation? How will I ever come clean?
Mari swims toward me. “I mean, look at all this, Sora. It doesn’t even feel real. That we’re on our goodbye trip.”
“Can we please not call it that?” I squeeze my eyes shut. It is the first full day of our vacation, and we are already thinking about life when it’s all over? It is hard enough to talk about without branding it in such a depressing way. Anya is going to Sarah Lawrence, and Mari’s off to Berkeley, all the way in California. And I am staying in Georgia. I’m not saying goodbye to anyone. They are just saying it to me.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t believe we’ll be going off to college in three months,” Mari says. “I haven’t told you guys, but I’m terrified.”
“You’ll fit right in. The nerves will be gone before you even know it, and it’ll be the next big adventure,” Anya reassures her.
“Get in the water, Sora!” Mari says as she spins in place. She unties her braids and dunks her head underwater, the ocean turning her hair to satin.
“I’m a little cold,” I lie. The truth is, I’m totally over this conversation. I was trying to not think about how bleak my prospects looked come fall. I’ll be less than twenty minutes from home. For me, there would be no big adventure. No crossing of state lines. I wouldn’t blame Mari and Anya if they forgot all about their little friend back home with all the life they’ll be living. I can’t talk about this anymore. I can’t even bear to think about it. “I’m starving, you guys. Can we eat?”
“Yes!” Mari says, oblivious to my very blatant attempt to steer the conversation literally anywhere else.
I paddle back toward the crowded beach, hating that the dark cloud of what awaits after this summer has already appeared. This trip was supposed to be my escape from reality. My chance toforgetreality. At least I’ll have Wes at Armstrong and maybe in the big, twisted picture, that was the message I was supposed to take away. All those doors shut to open my heart up for a big love, the one that was destined for me.
We pull sandwiches out from our cooler. We picked them up from the deli down the road. They’re made with fresh ciabatta, thick mozzarella, juicy slices of tomato, and basil. I’ve had caprese sandwiches before, but none that taste like this. There’s a pesto aioli smeared onto the bread that catapults it to the next level. I finish the entire thing,licking the remnants off my fingers. “Nico wasn’t lying, these sandwiches are legit.”
“I’m sorry if I made you upset, talking about college,” Mari says, her voice small. “I wasn’t trying to.”
“It’s really okay,” I say. “I’m not upset.”
“Are you sure?”
“Can you hand me my book?” I reach toward my bag, doing my best to shut down this topic altogether. And then I recline on my towel, closing my eyes as I pretend to read.
“Speaking of Nico…” Anya says.
I look up so quickly that I’m at risk of giving myself whiplash. Sure enough, there he is, standing by a row of beach chairs around twenty feet away. This dude is literallyeverywhere. He’s talking to someone, but I can’t make out who. Moments later, he peels off his T-shirt in what I’m certain is cinema-worthy slow motion. To the surprise of us all, our golden retriever of a hotel manager has a torso worthy of headliningMagic Mike.
Even Anya—asexual, aromantic, and generally unimpressed—is stunned. “What is that body-fat percentage—ten?”
“Less,” I say with full conviction. “Less,” I repeat, as his defined muscles twitch with every movement.
“Is that body oil all over his chest? With shimmer?” Mari lowers her sunglasses to get a better look.
“Hand me your binoculars, Mari,” I demand. She pulls a small pair of binocs out of her bag and hands them over. I stare through them, squinting in his direction, assessing.After fiddling with the focus, I reach a verdict. “You know, I think that’s just his natural skin and sweat.” His sweatwouldhave glitter in it. Maybe it’s an Italian thing.
“Wow,” Mari says.
“Yeah.” I take a sip of San Pellegrino to cool down but quickly prop the binoculars up again. “Dang.” I can’t seem to take my eyes off him. He moves to the side, revealing that his companion is a girl with shiny lips and flowy hair so long and silky that the ends brush against the small of her back. A girl more than worthy of being the Italian goddess to his god. She’s even wearing a cover-up that makes her ethereal, a cream macrame so transparent you can see every bit of her itty-bitty canary-yellow bikini underneath. I could never pull that off. I perk up even more. “Should we save her from him?”
“I don’t think she’s the one who needs saving.” Anya chuckles as the girl throws her head back at something Nico said, putting both of her palms on his bare chest like if she didn’t have him to lean on, she would fall over onto the ground. She then proceeds to slip off the top straps to her cover-up, turn her back to Nico, and hand him a bottle of sunscreen. She sweeps her glossy hair away, revealing her dainty, sculpted back. I roll my eyes as he pours out twenty times too much suntan lotion and lathers it on her shoulder blades. Oldest trick in the book. I chew on my bottom lip and make a mental note—these are the kinds of girls Nico dates.
Interesting.
After a few minutes of surveillance, Mari buries herself back in her book and Anya takes a small dish of water over to the cat who’s obsessed with her. But I can’t make myself look away. Something feels forbidden about watching, like I’m getting another glimpse into Nico’s life.
I keep waiting for him to see us, but he doesn’t. I lay like this on my stomach most of the afternoon, pretending to read while gnawing on my inner lip, spying on Nico and his companion through my sunglasses until eventually I look up and they’re both gone.
CHAPTER 8
