“Come on, Nic,” Christian sighs, starting towards the house. “Absolutely not,” Nico says, stepping down one step and holding out a hand towards Christian, his palm out flat to him. To my surprise, he glances at me. “Are you fucking serious with this, Chris? Her? You threw your life away for her?”
“You still had this?” Christian asks, looking at me with surprise as he reaches for the phone and taps it, seeing it turn on, flipping through the call log and messages. “Um,” I say, grimacing a little and not bothering to affirm it – I mean, the proof is in his hands. “Why didn’t you answer it?
I go very still, my mouth forming into a concentrated little “o” at Christian’s question. My eyes flick immediately to Nico, my coffee pressed tight between my palms. Because…if Nico’s here, it means that he is on Christian’s side. Right? I’m shocked when Nico’s answer isn’t an immediate yes.
“You know it’s been brewing for a long time,” Christian says, his voice hard. “This shouldn’t be a surprise. The circumstances have just forced me into action a little earlier than I’d planned.” “I know,” Nico confirms, light. “It’s not a surprise. It’s…just not every day that you hear your cousin
The boys begin their plans, and I almost immediately start to lose track of what they’re talking about. It’s not that they’re deliberately trying to keep me out of it by speaking in codes or anything – I just don’t understand half of the people they’re making reference to, or the places, or the stra
I straighten my shoulders. “All right,” I say, serious too. “But you have to stop blaming me for shit that I didn’t do, and stop telling me to run away and leave.” “Well, I think that you’re beyond that now,” Nico says quietly as we both look over at Christian, who stands up straight now, folding
We walk for hours along the beach – long, languid hours, chatting about small things – the way the sand feels, the sea looks, how the sun feels on our skin. It’s only when I can feel myself burning – even under my stupid fisherman’s cap – that Christian drags me home. Even then I’m reluctant, though
We sit at almost precisely the same time, Christian putting a glass of rose wine in front of me just as I put a plate in front of him. “This is way too nice,” he murmurs, smiling at me, I think truly impressed and touched that I’ve gone through such effort. “I just made you stew. You’re showing me u