I’ve just started typing something pathetic like “good morning” when a text pops up.
Cammie:are you wearing those glasses again to seduce me?
I choke out a laugh as I stop in my tracks and look around the corridor from the dining room to the residence hall, my heart doing a backflip when I find Cammie leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen. I probably just missed her when I walked past, ironically preoccupied with finding her.
She smirks up at me as I approach, sliding my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants and forgetting about my phone as I tuck it away.
“I’m actually wearing them because I’ve forgotten too much lately, and I’m trying to stop my nightly headaches,” I answer, feeling my lips pull up uncontrollably at the sight of her with a messy riot of curls wrangled into a ponytail, a T-shirt printed with the poster for the movieHolesover cutoff jean shorts, and her dust-covered walking sandals. Dazedly, I ask her freckled legs, “Why, are they working?”
Her chuckle draws my attention up to her knowing grin. “I can’t speak for the headaches, but they’re very much working for me.”
I swallow even though my mouth feels dry. Is the villa’s AC malfunctioning, or is it just me? Cammie reaches out and gives my chest a pat, right around where my heart is beating double time. “Okay, guess it’s a little early to start objectifying you. Iwas about to walk down to Villa di Bronzo, make an appearance with Mom, earn myself more time to get up to off-site shenanigans. Want to come with?”
I’m already feeling relief, seeing her and how normally she’s acting about us. I know if I go off and do my own thing, I’ll only end up spiraling about where we stand. It’s an easy invitation to accept.
We agree to meet on the terrazzo, and then I hurry upstairs to change. As I look for something lighter than fleece sweatpants to wear, none of my clothes feel right. Who packed all this shit? Have I always dressed this badly? Was anyone ever gonna tell me?
A quiet voice in my head says that my closet only looks like it was filled by someone who hates me because I’m on edge about other stuff. I’m beginning to spiral about messing things up with Cammie before they can go anywhere again, and I’m fixating on things that don’t matter, convincing myself they’re more dire than they are.
I try to believe that, finally tugging on a pair of khaki shorts and a plain blue T-shirt and telling myself that neither item will repel Cam as much as making her wait another ten-plus minutes for me to choose a different outfit. I’m finger-combing my hair, about to start toward the terrazzo, when my phone vibrates in my pocket.
On-screen is a new text from Max, reminding me that the deadline to submit our roommate request is coming up. He’s been more patient than I deserve, and I owe him an answer. One I still don’t have, but I at least text him back with words this time, promising to give him a definite yes or no soon.
The reminder doesn’t help my unease as I return to Cammie, now sitting at one of the outdoor bistro tables with an odd expression on her face.
“Hey?” I say it like a question, and in answer, she gives two pointed but subtle nods—first toward the chair beside her, then to indicate something behind her.
I sit in the chair, then try to appear casual as I scan the terrazzo beyond Cammie’s shoulder. A few tables away, Johnny/Gianmarco Russo sits with a younger man I don’t recognize, both of them alternating between peering at the screen of a tablet and then at the assortment of loose papers and folders around it. Cammie’s fingers fly across her phone screen and a moment later, my phone buzzes.
Cammie:they’re talking about the anniversary party
Cammie:and I’m nosy
I suppress my smile as I meet her eyes again, mischief sparkling in them. I’m more interested in studying their particular shade of blue and all the little streaks and flecks of other shades within than in details of this party, but I try to listen in anyway.
“No, no, this is not correct,” Johnny says, barely concealing some mix of panic and frustration. “Who designed this banner? No, Dr. Lovett’s name is not to be included.”
Cammie straightens in her seat, widening her eyes at me.
“Ah, va bene,” the other guy says hesitantly. “Although wewere under the impression that this was a celebration of the anniversary of Dr. Lovett’s discovery and therefore—”
“It’s the anniversary of the discovery of Villa di Bronzo,” Russo cuts in sharply. “The celebration is not in honor of any singular person, but of the incredible gift that the villa has been to us all. The focus should remain on Villa di Bronzo, and on the Villa Russo Research Residency Program, sì? Allora, about the ice sculpture…”
Cammie scoffs as she gets to her feet, chair scraping across the stones. I catch Russo’s gaze darting her way and surprise flickers there before it narrows into something more displeased. But she doesn’t spare him a glance as she heads toward Villa di Bronzo, and I hurry to follow.
“Is his ego seriously so fragile that he can’t get over my mom’s rejectiontwenty years later?” Cam rants while we start down the dirt path side by side. “I’m embarrassed for him. I’m tempted to bring some spray paint and graffiti her name on that goofy banner anyway.”
I make what I think are the right noises in support, but I’m having trouble staying present. My head is spinning off into Worst-Case Scenarioville, imagining a series of catastrophes in which I decide to go to Germany and my anxiety goes through the roof once I’m there, resulting in me ruining this relationship by being the world’s worst long-distance boyfriend and generally an anxious mess, and she’ll never take me back because “fool me twice” and all that, and I have to crawl on home to Pops’s dingy, unfinished basement, single and unwell, my lesson learned in what happens when I try to have it all.
If I hadn’t left them back in my room, I would pop one ofmy anxiety pills right now, the ones I take when I feel my panic worsening before it gets to full-on attack phase. The same thing that would have helped that first time Cam and I went to Naples, if I wasn’t always forgetting to keep them on me.
Okay, I tell myself,you don’t have to let things go there. You’re not the same guy you were three years ago. You can do better this time around. And where does that start? Communication!
“All right, I give up,” Cammie says, abruptly reclaiming my focus as she jumps off the bottom step down into the Villa di Bronzo entrance and spins to face me. I follow cautiously, my chest tightening. Was I too busy worrying about losing her to notice that I already have?
“What do you mean?” My voice shakes and she must hear it, because her determined gaze softens as she studies my face.
“On waiting for you to tell me what’s wrong instead of me having to ask. I was trying not to pry, but I forgot nosiness is kind of a core feature of my personality. As is impatience. So what’s going on?”
