“But fights pass, right? Everything does. Maybe focus on that?” Wes picks up a pebble and tries skimming it across the water.
He clearly isn’t going to be the one to give me the wisdom I need right now. And honestly, that’s okay. He’s trying his best. I turn toward him, and he cups my face in his hands. He presses his lips to my forehead sweetly, then kisses my tears dry before meeting my lips. The kisses are slow at first, and he keeps going, building. He is tracingcircles on my thigh, and at first, I find some comfort in the closeness, but then he pushes aside the split in the skirt of my dress and his hand creeps up my inner thigh.
I grab his hand. “Wes, I’m not really in the mood right now.”
“Wait, for real?” He pulls back, looking almost offended.
“Did you not just witness the past hour?” What in God’s name would make him think that either of us would still be in the mood after we just found ourselves in World War Three?
“Oh, come on, Sora. We’re in Italy, on vacation, together. Do you want to throw our night away for them? Do you really want to sit here moping?”
I push him away, wrapping my arms around myself. “My best friends since kindergarten basically said they don’t want to be friends anymore. That seems like a pretty good reason to be upset.”
“Jesus, why do you let them get to you?” Wes is annoyed and starting to fidget. “Listen. You’ll go to college and won’t ever speak to them again. They’ve never been supportive of you and honestly, I’ve always wondered why you ever hung out with them in the first place. You’re not on their level, and I mean that in a good way. They’re… well. They’ve always been jealous of us, and since they aren’t happy with themselves, they don’t want you to be, either.”
“Are you fucking serious?” I snap. “Do you think they’re jealous of all the times you’ve left me on read, orwhen you wouldn’t say ‘I love you’ back at prom? Is that what they haven’t been supportive of?”
“Cool. Bring up things from high school. Real mature.”
“Not all of that was from high school. Let me remind you, some of that was from this week.”
“We’ve already gone over that, Soraya. How many times do you need me to apologize for the same thing?” Wes throws his arms up, exasperated.
“You know, I’m not doing this. I’m leaving.” I push myself to my feet, starting the ascent up the steps with no real destination in mind. I keep thinking that I’ll hear Wes’s footsteps any moment now, chasing after me to apologize. Begging me to spend the night at least, so I’ll have somewhere to crash.
But the footsteps never come.
CHAPTER 22
I don’t even know whattime it is when I stumble back to the B and B. I walked around aimlessly for hours, crying and distraught. This is the last place I want to be, but I have nowhere else to go now that my backup plan is suddenly off the table. The lobby is dim when I enter. There is no sign of Nico or his mom. No sign of anyone.
There’s that tiny bell on the counter for emergencies, but the last thing I want to do is sound the alarm and explain why I look like I just emerged from a swamp. But I cannot even fathom going back to the room I share with my potentially former best friends. How do I always find myself in these situations? The waterfall starts up again. There is no least-worst option that I can think of.
I sink down into one of the tiny lobby couches, hugging my knees tightly to my chest. How do I screw everything up, always? I couldn’t even get into a reputable college. I’ve let my family down, and now I’ve done the same to my friends. I don’t doubt that as I go on living, I will continue to let absolutely everyone down.
This entire trip was my idea and now it is completelyruined. I bulldozed Anya and Mari into where we went, where we stayed, all to meet up with Wes. Wes, who would choose passing out in a bathtub over responding to my texts. I keep dropping everything to give him chances when he’s never done the same for me.
“Hey…” Nico’s soft voice pulls me from my pity party. “Are you okay?” He kneels to catch my eye. “Are you hurt?”
“Not physically,” I say.
“Hold tight.” Nico stands up. “Let me call Anya and Mari. I think they’re in.”
“No!” I panic. “You can’t. We had a huge fight. Everything’s ruined. Everything.” That’s all I’m able to offer through my sobs.
“Okay.” Nico stands there, studying me, hands in his pockets. He too looks like he’s at a complete loss, and after a minute, he simply walks away.
It only makes my tears flow faster. I can’t really blame him. I wouldn’t want to deal with me in this state either. But soon he returns with a glass of water and a warm, damp towel.
“For your face,” he says. “Um. There’s some makeup…” He swirls his hand around, which does a sufficient job of describing the mess that is likely smeared over my face.
“Thank you.” I take the towel and mop up my face, then glug down the water as he sits quietly next to me. I don’t know if you can get dehydrated from crying, but I’m parched. Eventually, enough time passes that my crying calms.
“I’d offer you a room for the night, but the empty ones are still being renovated.” Nico looks around, considering. “You’re welcome to stay on the couch if you want?”
It’s such a kind gesture, but the sofa is smack in the middle of the lobby. I’d be fully on display. I don’t know if I can handle that level of humiliation on top of everything else—the thought of people streaming through, whispering at the sight of me. “Thank you so much, Nico, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. Don’t worry about me. I can figure something out.”
Nico snaps his fingers. “Hold on.” He disappears behind the front desk. A couple of minutes later, he emerges with a pile of bedding. “Do you like camping?”
