“She was sick,” I manage to get out, clearing my throat and taking another sip of water. It doesn’t help the feeling. “When she got to college, she knew she was sick. Prognosis of sixteen months. Her parents wanted her to stay home, try someexperimental treatments, but Frankie… she just wanted to live her life. Like,reallylive it.
“That first weekend, after orientation but before we moved into the dorm, she took me on an adventure. We snuck into a frat party on Friday, went skydiving on Saturday, and on Sunday we managed to get a spot of tea with the president of the college. It was…” I trail off, thinking about that first weekend together. The flying feeling of her pushing onto the next thing, and the rush of finally being free of being “good,” getting to sayyes, yes, yes.
“It sounds like a lot of fun,” Nico says, quietly, and when I look up at him, it’s with relief.
I nod, “It was. She determined that I would be her bucket bestie, and after that, we spent every second not doing homework but doing something else. One weekend, we flew to Paris, got in a bar fight, and immediately flew home so Frankie could make a final. It was wild. But it was fun. She lived way longer than they thought, and she made it to graduation.”
She was in a wheelchair, having lost function of her legs at that point, but she was still radiant, beaming with a strange burst of energy for the ceremony.
“Being friends with Frankie was the most miraculous thing I’ve ever done.” My voice is small, and I shrug, wiping away tears with the back of my hand. “And she would want me to… have fun. To make the most of my life.”
“So far. The most miraculous thingso far,” Nico challenges, and it reminds me so much of Frankie that I have to laugh. “You know,” he follows, handing me a box of tissues, “Cole lost his sister.”
“Claire?” I ask, heart tightening. He mentioned her briefly while working on the elevator but didn’t say he’d lost her. It gives me an echo of grief, the faintest feeling of having thought someone was here when they weren’t. Without thinking, I bringmy hand to my heart, and Nico’s eyes track the movement, even as he raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah…” he says, and I realize I’ve given too much away—why would I know the name of Cole’s sister? “That’s right. You and Cole… have met then?”
“We had our own little—” I twirl my finger in the air, as though gesturing to the situation. “At work, the elevator broke down and the doors locked, and we were stuck?—”
“I see,” Nico says, his voice low. “So, you’ve gotten to know DaneandCole? I’m jealous you haven’t taken the same initiative with me.”
Another shiver runs up my spine, and this time, it has nothing to do with the looming water under our feet. “It’s—I didn’t—not with Cole, it was just?—”
Swallowing, I close my eyes and continue talking, though I should probably just shut up. “With Dane, it’s not, like,anything. He’s teaching me.”
I don’t open my eyes. Nico’s voice is low, “Teaching you?”
“I’m not that experienced,” I admit, and when I open my eyes, I find Nico’s pupils blown out, his fingers deftly rotating the bottle of water in his hand. “It’s not like I was saving myself for marriage or anything, but I had a hard time—guys were either turned off by it, or weirdly into it, and it was gross, so I just… didn’t. And then, with Dane, we were on the plane, and I fell in the shower?—”
Nothing I’m saying is making anything better. Clearing my throat, I add, simply, “It’s casual.”
“Right,” Nico nods, sets his water down on the table beside him, uncrosses his legs, and stands. When he walks around my shoulder, I turn my head to keep him in my sights, like he’s a shark circling me. “Casual. A learning experience.”
I clench my thighs together, heart racing, skin prickling with desire.
“You know,” Nico says, from just behind me, out of my line of sight. Then he’s placing a hand on my shoulder, leaning down, hooking a finger under my chin. This is like a confirmation to my body, and a little gasp escapes me at the touch. Eyes dipping down to my lips, Nico says, “I could teach you something, too.”
Chapter 21
Nico
For a fraction of a second, I think I’ve read her wrong.
Lucy’s breath hitches, and she leans back—not so my hand drops from her, but just enough that I sense the hesitancy.
It kills me, and I want to ask what has caused it. Is she worried about Dane? Or about Cole? She said nothing happened with him, but I’m not buying it. It’s written all over her face—even if nothing happened, Lucy certainly wanted it to.
But then she leans in and presses her lips to mine, and I can’t help but smile against her mouth.
I was right.
No surprise there. I’m always right.
Lucy, eager, twists and rises to her knees on the couch, her hands gripping the lapels of my suit, dragging me down so she can taste me. She slides her tongue against mine, and I drink her in, planting a hand on the small of her back, urging her closer to me.
My erection presses against the back of the leather couch, and I’m already thinking about what I’m going to do with her.
I want to taste more than her mouth.
