“Ricky! Are you okay?” His wet curls pressed to his forehead were endearing. He took my uninjured hand and held it as the doctor stitched my thumb. Lonely, I craved that kind of attention. “What happened?”
I didn’t want to talk about it, but I knew I needed to. “Something was off. My body felt weird all day. All week, really. It’s been this way for a couple years around this time. Then I saw the date, the anniversary of my nonno’s death.”
Cam nodded. “You’ve told me how much he meant to you.”
“He was everything. I can’t believe I didn’t remember. Or put two and two together. My head just wasn’t on right today.” I nodded toward the bloody massacre in the doctor’s hands. “Clearly, I miss him.” The words jumbled in my mouth, and tears pooled at the edges of my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. I didn’t know if I was talking about Nonno or Fielder at this point, but I missed them both, and in that moment, I hated them both for leaving me alone.
“And I stupidly thought, ‘Hey, let me call my ex because he’d understand,’ and turns outthat’snot the case at all. He’d rather post on Clock.”
I had been wrong earlier. Breaking up with Fielder wasn’t a mistake. He was too obsessed with his phone and that damn Clock App, spending more time cultivating his online persona than focusing on supporting me. He didn’t care about me at all anymore. I was still stuck on him, but Fielder had clearly moved on.
It was time that I did the same.
Maybe now, I thought,I can let him go and figure out who I am without Fielder Lemon.
Later that night after being discharged from the hospital, we hung out in Cam’s dorm room streaming theBarbiemovie.
Cam moved closer and closer, and I let him.
The warmth of Cam’s body felt . . . nice, safe, familiar, yet new and daunting all at once. His fingers threaded between mine, and his thumb stroked the top of my hand.
“Let me take care of you,” he said.
“You’re doing a great job,” I whispered.
Cam’s curly hair had dried and fell just above his eyes, which pierced mine as he stared so deeply at me. “Just wait until my world-famous head rub.”
“What makes them world-famous?”
He shrugged. “You’ll just have to see.” Delicately, as if not to break me further, he slid behind me so that I rested my back to his chest. “Get comfy.” He started massaging my scalp, and I closed my eyes in pure bliss. “Can I tell you something?”
I moaned.
“I like you,” he confessed.
During “I’m Just Ken,” as Ryan Gosling was belting, he leaned in and kissed me.
I kissed him back.
WEDNESDAY
RICKY DELUCA
“Scorza di Limone”
Amalfi’s morning air is so cool and crisp it lures me from bed to the balcony.
Cam is already awake, shirtless, sipping a cappuccino and dunking a biscotti into the rich liquid.
A gauze of soft clouds encases the sky, but a warm yellow from the sun peeks through. A few anchored rowboats dance atop the waves as fishermen with beards and brown hats hope for a good catch.
I lean against the doorframe and take in the view.
“Morning, beautiful.” Cam stands to hug me. His teal-and-gray-striped linen pajama pants flap in the breeze. “It’s a literal dream, isn’t it?”
“Sure is. What did you wanna do today? We have a free day. I was thinking we could go into town to meet local woodworkers—”
Cam rolls his eyes. “Sounds boring.”
