“So, bad news,” he says. “I lost my phone. Fell out of my hand when I hit the water. I asked the captain, and it’s way too deep to dive down. It’s too dark anyway.”
He looks unfazed. Casual. As if he said he just ate a slice of pizza. No biggie.
My eyes go wide. “What are you gonna do?!”
“Get a new phone when we’re back in the States.”
“On Monday night?! Or TUESDAY!? That’s forever.”
He shrugs. “What does it matter? Life goes on, and I have everything I need here.”
I check my pocket instinctually. My entire life is on my phone—
Wait.My breathing steadies. He’s right. My entire life isn’t on my phone. It’s right here. I nuzzle into his slick, slimy neck, and I don’t care that he’s freezing or that the water is soaking through my shirt.
The slow glide back to Positano is awe-inducing. The soft glow of lights cast against buildings that climb up the mountain make the city look like a layered hive from a sci-fi film. There’s nowhere on earth I’d rather be.
Okay, remember what I said a few lines ago? That my phone isn’t my life?
Lies!
Because when we get back to shore and go to where Ricky says a car is supposed to be waiting for us, the spot is empty.
Not a problem, right? I can just call Topher—
Exceptmyphone is dead and I don’t have a charger.
It’s late. No idea how late, but it must be after midnight.
The streets are empty.
We have no way of contacting anyone. Even if we somehow find a phone in a restaurant or by begging a fellow American tourist somewhere, I don’t know anyone’s number by heart.
Ricky’s hands go clammy. He wriggles out from my grip,shakes his wrists, and starts to pace. He’s muttering to himself like his nonno used to, chest rising and falling rapidly in panic. Anytime something gets too complicated, and he doesn’t have control, without a clear, concise plan, Ricky flounders. Seeing him like this is a reminder of how much I’ve changed because my instinct would be blaming the universe or panicking alongside him, essentially forcing Ricky to straighten his back and suppress his emotions in favor of protecting mine.
I place my hand on Ricky’s back and force him to take a deep breath in, then out.
“Hey,” I coo. “It’s okay. We got this. We’ll figure it out.”
He stops marching. “You’re not worried?”
I shake my head. “We’re in Italy, and we have each other. Why worry?”
In the distance, past the beach, situated directly on the boardwalk is an old, dramatically lit building that has a turret with a dome towering over the others at shore level. A bustling restaurant on the ground floor and a few floors of balconies with what looks like tourists lounging and sipping wine.
Someone inside must have a charger, or a phone we could use. Not that I know how to dial internationally, or who to even dial.
My head spins.
Breathe,Fielder.You got this.What do straight footballers chant to pump themselves up? Big dick, full hole, can’t lose? I feel better already.
Ricky follows my line of sight. “You thinking a room for the night?”
“That’s not the worst idea. But we need to find a charger for my phone.”
He grabs my hand.
With a fire warming our bellies, we start hand in hand toward the grand hotel, hopeful, knowing we have each other to get us out of this mess.
