Page 159 of That Last Summer

“It means that we’ll keep being the same Jaime and the same Hugo we were before this summer. Two guys who share one little person in their lives—that’s you by the way,” he clarifies, although it wasn’t necessary, “but nothing else.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, Pris, I’m okay with that. You know why?”

“Because you’re not in love with him.”

“Exactly.” He taps me on the nose. “I’ve been thinking, putting my feelings in order and I’m not going to lie... I like Hugo and he’s a great fuck—”

“Thank you for that image you’ve put in my head. I’ve already seen two of my brothers having sex this summer.”

“—but there’s nothing else there.”

“And what about Adrián?”

“Damn,” he complains, “there’s nothing there either. I admit he’s a gorgeous guy, but it was just a game. I like Adrián but it’s not sexual. Even if I think he’s hot as—”

“Enough!”

“Come on,” Jaime says, smiling, “I’ll take you to the airport.”

Alex

Today, Priscila returns to Boston.

I don’t know how I feel about it. Sometimes, I think that what we’ve experienced this summer has been nothing more than a dream. Other times, I think that the dream, the unreal part, is that today she’ll disappear from my life once again.

I’ve come to the pub to have a drink and let the hours pass; I came on foot, I can’t risk having a car close in case I run after her. Because... have I thought about stopping her from getting on that damn plane? Yes. I can’t even count how many times. I have so many reasons to do it... all the reasons in the world, starting with the fact that Priscila Cabana makes me reach heights of happiness that no one else can take me to. It’s always been that way.

And there’s only one reason not to stop her. A single fucking reason, but it weighs too much: our past. The way she left without looking back.

I’m not a saint either, that much I know. I’ve spent four years blaming Priscila for every single one of my misfortunes, but it wasn’t her who left the track and skied off-piste. It was me and me alone. And I think I should apologize to her at some point. Maybe today. Before she leaves.

I get up from my stool, for the fifth time in the last hour, to rush to the airport.

“Hi, Alex.”

Carolina and her sister intercept me. They sit on the stools next to mine and I stand there, not knowing what to do. Was I going to the airport? Damn, I think so. I’m losing my mind.

I don’t know how I feel about the oldest of the sisters. I talked to my brother John and told him everything: the reason why Pris left, and all about the photo. I also asked him why the hell he was fucking his girlfriend in my bedroom and his answer blew me away: Carolina liked to do it there. She liked it too much, in John’s opinion—to the point he even told me that more than once he’d thought his girlfriend was in love with his little brother.

If I think about it now, upon reflection I can see Carolina has always tried to be close to me, even more after Priscila left. I assumed it was due to our close connection, her being who she was and all that, but now I’m beginning to think that maybe her interest was something very different.

We even kissed once, a few months after Priscila left; I pushed her away and explained that we could never be together like that, not only because she was my brother’s ex, but because I’d never fall in love with her. Carolina accepted it and even apologized, claiming it had been a slip-up, and that was that—we continued with our lives as if it never happened. But the truth is she’s been always close, and I’ve never understood why my brother’s girlfriend, ten years older than me, was always watching out for me.

Was she really in love? Could it be possible? I’m about to ask her, but Adrián walks into the pub and comes straight at us. Straight to his girlfriend.

“Hi, Adri—”

“Hi,” he interrupts her. “I was so hoping for this moment. Three days I’ve been wanting the four of us to meet up, and you just served it to me on a silver plate.”

“Aw, you’re so cute.” Carmen ruffles Adrián’s hair. “Of course we met up, you summoned us here.”

Fuck, I don’t have time for this. I need to go to the airport. I need some fresh air, and a walk and... the airport is as good a place to do that as any other.

Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, dude.

Shit. It’s never a good sign when beers are talking to me.