Page 24 of Sucker Love (Sugar Pill Duet #1)

I lounge back on the loveseat and pull out my phone, scrolling idly through Instagram without seeing until a selfie of Noel pops up.

It was taken an hour ago at what looks like the campus of MassArt, and he’s staring moodily into the lens with his wide, generous pout as the wind blows his hair across his face.

His eyes are, as always, his most striking feature, the combination of filter and lighting turning them the color of a lion’s pelt.

The caption merely says # dayinthelife .

It’s typical shit that early twenty-somethings post, but he looks cute as hell so I hit like on it. Not a minute later he messages me:

caught in 4K

It’s a good picture of you.

it’s just a shitty selfie lol

Well, it put me in a better mood.

something wrong?

I’m surprised he cares. If he does. Probably just a knee-jerk reaction, the compulsion to ask even if you don’t give a shit. I run my thumb along the edge of my phone before I reply:

Aren’t you in class?

in between crits, lay it on me

It’s nothing crazy. Had lunch with my dad and it went bad.

Like picture a caricature of a god-fearing conservative dude and that’s him.

and you’re queer and covered in tats and piercings, i bet he loves that

Exactly lol

I’m fine, visiting him just gets me down. For obvious reasons.

so why do it?

What a fantastic question that I don’t know the answer to.

My thumbs hover uselessly over the screen.

Maybe it’s just that easy for him to not go out of his way and do things that make him miserable, but not me for some reason.

It’s not so much devotion that drives me, but something else entirely.

Nothing I can explain over text—far too much, actually—and nothing he deserves to be bogged down with, anyway.

Noel responds before I can figure out what to say:

listen life’s too short to make yourself miserable with shit like that

also you’re too hot to be sad

Thanks…?

anyways I gotta go

cheer up, see you at home

See ya. Good luck in crit.

I set my phone atop my chest and I know I’m smiling like an idiot when I stare up at the ceiling.

And then I have to shake myself, literally, and get up, because what the fuck am I doing.

Lying here, mooning and simpering over my twenty-year-old roommate-slash-fuckbuddy.

This entire situation is making me go crazy.

I think it would make anyone in my position go crazy.

There’s just something about him.

Something that gets right to the core of me, and I don’t know why.

Intimacy issues be damned, I am enchanted with him.

There is something sweet and vulnerable about him lurking beneath that polished, edgy veneer and I want to get to the core of it so badly.

I want to peel it away and know him, truly.

And then I’ve got a brilliant idea: what if I took him to Killington with me?

I mean, he said himself that he’s never left the city on any sort of vacation. This can be the first time. It won’t be much expense to bring him along. I’m gonna go anyway —he might as well come along. Even if he doesn’t ski, it’ll be good for him to take a break from everything.

And yes, I can admit to myself that I’ll miss him while I’m gone.

I whistle and Amelia jumps down from my bed.

She trots into the living room, ears pricked and tail wagging, and comes over for a pat.

“Time for a walk?” I ask her, and I swear she rolls her eyes.

“Too bad,” I say, getting up and grabbing her things.

“Unless you’re volunteering to learn to use an actual toilet. ”

We go out through the park and I check my phone again.

I don’t have anything from Noel—which I’d hoped for, but didn’t expect—but I do have yet another text from Demi asking me to call her as soon as possible.

I’ve been parrying texts and missed calls all week.

I feel perhaps less guilty than I should but I’ve been so distracted with a certain someone.

I dial her. “Hey,” I say when she picks up. “I’m so sorry for being MIA. Things have been crazy.” The same vague excuse I gave my dad. The guilt twinge grows into a nudge. “And I’ve been planning this trip to Killington next weekend, so I’m trying to get my ducks in a row.”

“Killington?” she repeats. “Now? Right now?”

“Yeah. I haven’t been there in a million years, and I figure—I don’t know, I might as well. I was hoping you’d watch Amelia. If that’s cool.”

“How much is all that going to cost?”

“It’ll only concern my bank account,” I say, a little stiffly. “Unless that’s something you think you should be worrying about.”

Gusty sigh. “No, it’s just—forget it. I can watch Amelia, of course I can. It’ll be good to see her. You did sort of kidnap her away.”

“Well, she’s my dog. Is that an issue?”

“No.” She sounds tired all of a sudden. “I know she was your dog first. Luca...just forget it. I have a million things for you to sign. Have you forgotten we’re getting a divorce?”

I ignore her last comment. “Yeah, I’ll make time. I’ll let you know. I’ve just been so busy?—”

“And you still haven’t sent me your address.”

No, I haven’t. “I’ll do it soon as we hang up.”

“We need to go over the separation agreement one more time, too, in case we missed anything. Or maybe you’ve thought of something you want?”

“No. There’s nothing. ”

“Well, come over and double-check just in case. As soon as possible, preferably.” She hesitates. “This is what I was afraid of, you know, you moving out before everything was finalized. You just instantly becoming a stranger.”

“What? No, it’s not like that.” It kind of is, but not for whatever reasons she’s thinking, I’m sure.

I am simply distracted by the guy I’ve fallen into bed with.

And using that distraction to postpone all the terrifying changes divorce will bring.

“Really, I’m just busy. Between work and settling in and everything.

” I need to get it together. “I promise we’ll get together soon and get this stuff finished up and filed.

We’ll be cracking open some bubbly and celebrating our official divorce before you know it. ”

Demi allows herself a small laugh. “I’m not sure that’s the sort of thing anyone celebrates, Luca. Even us.”

I immediately feel like a dickhead. “I guess not.”

“You haven’t talked to your dad yet, have you?”

“I did see him earlier.”

“And?”

“And, well, it didn’t come up.”

Her sigh is loud and aggravated. “Luca. Seriously?”

“I told you I’ve been busy,” I argue. “I’m still trying to think of what the fuck I’m even gonna say.”

“Try this: ‘Hey Dad, bad news. I’m getting a divorce. It’s amicable. We just don’t want the same things anymore.’”

“Great,” I say. “And then after he’s done berating me he goes, what things are those?

And I go, well actually the problem is we want too much of the same thing, which is dick —” I’m joking, obviously, because I don’t want to either be murdered or be responsible for the fatal heart attack it might induce.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Just say you don’t want kids or something.”

“That might be even worse, Demi.”

“Well, figure it out ,” she snaps. “Next time I see my family I’m not going to make excuses for you. You know it sucks just bobbing along with my marriage in free-fall and zero support system because my soon-to-be-ex-husband has effectively put a gag order on me?”

The guilt nudge is now a stab. “So tell a friend.”

“I have. It’s not the same. I want my mom, my sister?—”

“Look, I’ll figure it out and get back to you. Okay?” She doesn’t say anything. “Or at least warn me before you do it.” So I’ll have a heads up before my dad goes completely apeshit on me.

“Fine,” she says curtly before hanging up on me.

Amelia noses my hand with an impatient whine as I stare at my blank phone screen. Okay. Good talk.