Page 14

I Should Have Stopped in All My Evil Plotting to Have That Manicure, But It’s Too Late Now!

The neon-orange sun is disappearing behind the cliffs, casting the Amalfi mountains in gold.

The fading blue sky is streaked with purples and pinks, like a magical moving watercolor painting splashed across the walls of the villa, a perfect backdrop as Matty douses me in cologne until I can’t breathe.

He flicks the top three buttons open on my shirt, exposing my collarbone and my few chest hairs.

“How do I look?”

“Like you’re about to bottom.” Matty cheeses.

“If all goes to plan!”

“You—” He narrows his eyes devilishly, pinches his fingers, and gestures at me.

We mull over the plan for tonight and cross-reference with Operation: Ricky @ Second Glance.

Part one consists of a casual family run-in in the villa’s luxurious kitchen.

Ricky’s mom, Bianca, can’t resist being in the fray, so I’ll bet anything she’ll be in the kitchen, noseying around the executive chef. Perfect opportunity to apply the charm.

Then, standard family gatherings with the Lemon Coven tend to stretch into the wee hours of the morning, especially factoring in wine, limoncello, a couple decks of playing cards Nonna the gambler stashes in her purse.

We’ll use this and the time difference to our advantage.

To not rope in Topher or Sienna and keep them drama free, Matty will enlist Monroe and Benny, both of whom have the uncanny ability to talk nonstop about anything, to separate Ricky and Cam.

If they can loop Cam into a conversation and lure him away from the party, Matty will swoop down on Ricky and ask if they can have a best man to man of honor one-on-one using a “surprise” for Topher and Sienna as a ruse.

As all this is going on, I’ll casually excuse myself and make my way down to the pool area, which will already be lit with fairy lights thanks to the impeccable décor choices of our villa hosts.

Matty and Ricky will stumble upon me, and Matty will act all surprised that I’m there, but that’ll be the moment I finally get to talk to Ricky.

Everything else will melt away, except for us.

A happenchance rendezvous beneath the stars? What could be more romantic, right? Fuhgettaboutit . I can see the stitched reaction videos now . . .

He’ll get all flustered because he knows deep, deep, deep down he loves me, not Cam, and then we’ll laugh about how silly the emotional distance between us is, and Italy will imbue us with all the magic we need to have a super-charged moment that is sure to reignite his feelings for me, leaving Cam in the dust.

“Are we bad people?” I plop down on the bed.

“Nah. Just horny and in love.” He palms his chest and pointedly says, “Horny,” then moves the same palm to my chest. “In love. And love conquers all. Especially doe-eyed nerdy new boyfriends who can’t hold a candle to history.”

“You gotta stop watching old Disney movies and listening to Benny.” I pick at my cuticles, ripping off a rogue slice of skin. Blood pools in the crevices of my nail bed. I really should have gotten a manicure before the trip.

“And you gotta stop giving off bottom energy. Channel top energy tonight. Ricky is going to take notice of just how much you’ve changed, and what he’s missing.”

Have I really changed?

“(A) that is heterosexist and slightly homophobic,” I start, which Matty appreciates because he’s working on his internalized homophobia and likes being called out when he uses stereotypes.

“(B) Ricky and I were both vers, but that’s beside the point.

(C) Ricky does give off dom energy, huh?

” A slow realization pushes me to the edge of the bed.

“He said the night of the Great Commencement Massacre that he felt like he needed to take care of me. Maybe I need to show him that I can take care of him, too.” I hold out a shaky hand.

Now the blood drips onto the floor. Matty bolts to the bathroom to grab me a washcloth to blot and wrap my finger.

Then he shoves Ricky’s journal in my face and turns to a page he’d dutifully earmarked for me.

Written on opposing pages are two poems close enough in proximity that they obviously mean something when read together:

FROM THE JOURNAL OF RICCARDO DELUCA

“THE WOODWORKER AND THE DREAMER”

Holding him is like carving wood,

raw beauty untapped

as I shape our present with precision,

callused pads and chisels,

hand saws and carving knives,

he dreams of a future

wild and untethered, a digital fairy tale

from a single childhood promise

where creation is limited by edges,

infinite for a woodworker, and his dreamer

Adorable, right? Swoon-worthy, even. But this untitled poem is on the next page:

If love is a tree

who planted its seed?

Each branch an extension of us,

wild and twisting, fortified by years,

each leaf a memory,

verdant, thick, and full.

What happens when the last one falls?

are we still rooted?

Were our seedings too young—

two seeds planted to split,

in nutrient-rich soil.

Trees don’t survive deforestation—

buds bloom again

The question mark at the end is erased, but I can still see it.

“Remember what Nonna used to tell us every spring when she would plant her garden?” Matty says as he grabs my still-shaky, mummified hand, and I remember how Nonna would sit Topher, Matty, and me down and try to get us to help and listen as she methodically taught us about the resiliency of seeds.

“She would say, ‘Seeds may seem fragile and small, delicate, but they have a hard shell that protects them. They are built to survive. And when they’re in the right conditions, that hard shell breaks open, and something beautiful grows.’ You’re a seed, Fielder.

You just gotta bloom. Make yourself undeniable. ”

How do I do that?

I pull the washcloth off, and the ring slides with it. Dark red liquid coats the exterior now. I curse and furiously polish the ring.

“Field, it’s fine. Just run it under water—”

“No!” I hop to my feet and dash to the bathroom, dab a clean end of the washcloth under the faucet, and wipe the ring clean. When I’m sure it’s free of blood, a sigh of relief escapes my lungs so strong I nearly collapse into the vanity.

“What’s the big deal? It’s just a ring,” Matty asks from the doorway.

“It’s not just a ring. Do you remember after Ricky and I got together, and we spent New Year’s with Topher in LA?”

“How could I forget that wild house party? I got so wasted,” Matty says. “Our moms would kill Topher if they knew. We were way too young.”

I laugh. “That was my first time with Ricky. Our first time.”

His eyes bug. “Oh. You never told me that !”

“You weren’t out yet, and it felt weird telling you that part, and anyway, that’s not the point. After, he looked at me and said, ‘Promise me we’ll always be together?’ He pulled a ring off his finger and slipped it onto my thumb.” He had thick fingers, so it only fit my thumb.

“Zaddy.” Matty’s line of sight goes straight to the ring. “A little piece of Ricky and Fielder canon.”

“Ricky made it, carved it in his nonno’s workshop the summer before freshman year, before we got together.

” It’s exquisite, too—not only did he make a ring out of freaking oak, but he also fit it into a mold with tiny tigereye gemstones and used resin to bond the materials, and then buffed it so it’s super shiny.

It’s gotten a bit dull over the last three and a half years, because I rarely take it off. Except on the plane.

“Na?ve, huh? Always didn’t even last high school.” I lower my voice. “What am I doing?”

“Finally confronting the reality of your breakup?”

“Which is?”

“That you’ve spent the last year doing everything you could to prove to Ricky that you’re good enough for him.

Everything has been for him. Built up your Clock channel to prove him wrong.

Went to the gym to make him drool when you finally saw him.

” He pauses. “What about you ? What’s been for you ? ”

“When you put it like that, I sound pathetic.” Have I been stunting my own growth this entire year, molding myself into the kind of person Ricky wanted rather than the kind of person I want to be, for myself?

“No, I didn’t mean it like that.”

I put the ring back on my thumb. “I don’t want to move backward.”

All the thoughts swirling inside my brain get tangled.

I wish, for once, something in my life would make sense.

Out of everything I’ve endured—Dad’s death, having to work away my high school years in restaurants and not getting to be a regular kid because I was worried about Ma’s bills, breaking the news to Ma, Nonna, and the rest of the very judgmental Coven that college wasn’t for me, living in Topher’s very successful shadow—Ricky abandoning me has proven the most impossible season to weather.

Maybe it’s because I’m a seed that can’t bloom without the right conditions—and the right conditions are Ricky DeLuca.

I owe it to myself to see if there’s anything left of us , the dreamer and the woodworker. He said it himself in his poem: our “buds bloom again.” No question mark.

Once my hand is cleaned up and we’re ready to go, notifications start to roll in on my latest Clock video, and my heart drops.

All the comments are about Ricky.

How much they love him, and speculating about us in some way.

My followers are eating. It. Up.

Likes roll in faster than I can keep up with.

One user in particular, @AmITheDrama, has been a constant commenter for months now, but has gotten more and more negative and gossip hungry over time as they’ve gone back and watched old content.

I constantly get notifications from Clock videos I posted years ago.

I often wonder who’s behind accounts like that.

Ignoring Matty, I scroll through at double speed for answers.

And there he is. Ricky. On the PJ in the background.

In the airport. Behind me as I shot selfie footage in front of the Piazza del Duomo in Amalfi.

Staring at me. How did I not notice? A burst of hope warms my chest. Maybe I do have a shot.

“Earth to Fielder. Topher’s welcome dinner.”

I grip tight to Ricky’s ring. The universe is telling me I’m moving in the right direction. Toward Ricky. Seeds planted. All that’s left is to follow through.

If I can be patient and confident (two things I’ve never been), Cam will be toast. Should be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, holy shit I’m sweating through my shirt, is it too late to bail? easy !