Page 41

“Getting What You Deserve Is Unfair”

“I can’t believe I missed the Blue Grotto.” Cam is waiting for me the second Fielder and I return from the grotto, my T-shirt draped over his shoulder.

“On the bright side, you’re no longer green.” My peripheral follows Fielder, and my stomach twists in guilt.

Cam grips his abdomen. “I don’t think I could have handled a teeny-tiny boat rocking back and forth in a cave.” He burps and hands me my shirt. I pull it over my head. He continues, “How are you not dying? The rocking from those small boats would’ve taken me out.”

“I took the Dramamine before we left the villa.”

“Add that to my list of bad decisions,” he jokes, but there’s a pain behind his eyes. Am I on that list of bad decisions he’s made—does he regret meeting me, becoming my friend, coming to the hospital that night when I needed someone, telling me he loved me at Snow Lake, coming to Italy?

“Wanna go for a walk?” I ask.

“If my sea legs don’t give out.” He wobbles a bit, grabbing hold of the nearest railing, but I reach for his arm.

“I got you.” I thread my arm in his and steady him as we walk toward the bow of the yacht, ambling slowly, feeling the cool breeze.

“Thanks.” He leans his head against mine for a brief second. “How was it?”

“I can’t believe a place like that exists in real life. It was like a fantasy movie. It—”

“No,” he stops me. “With Fielder.”

“I, uh—”

“I have to imagine it was nice to be alone with him. Experience that with him. After everything you two have been through.” There’s no judgment in his voice, and I’m immediately brought back to the nights we spent in his dorm streaming movies before we started dating, the way he would listen to me and ask questions so intently.

I never gave too much because I didn’t know how, but he never stopped trying.

“You don’t have to—” I say.

He stops walking and pivots to the side of the boat.

It’s private here; nobody can see us this high up.

He leans over the edge, and I worry he’s about to throw up, so I place a hand on the center of his back and lean into him, but he takes a deep breath and says, “I always wanted somebody to love me the way you and Fielder love each other.” He turns toward me.

A single tear streams down his cheek.

“I really wanted that with you,” he says.

“You made me feel like I was a part of something really special. I liked how practical you were, and how much you love your family. I was so excited to come here and meet your family after hearing so much about them. I like how you came across as someone who knew exactly who you were—this guy who was a woodworker, deals in measurements and facts and had his head on straight, but honestly, Ricky, you always avoid having any sort of firm commitment conversation. You won’t define me as your exclusive boyfriend, but we’re in a relationship?

You brought me to a family wedding in Italy, and I thought maybe you finally loved me the way I love you, but you’re further away than ever.

I just feel like I’m constantly swimming upstream and can’t catch my breath.

Meanwhile you’re onshore with Fielder.” He trembles and bites back his bottom lip. “I’m tired.”

Maybe it’s the way he sees right through me, or how vulnerable he’s being right now, but just as I’m reconnecting with Fielder, I’m realizing I could be losing a potentially great future with Cam.

Isn’t that why I ended my relationship with Fielder in the first place, to find myself? To find out who I was without Fielder?

If I go backward now, will I know who I can become— without Fielder, with Cam?

All this time, I was afraid to truly commit to Cam out of fear I could never love him—or anybody—the way I loved Fielder. And maybe that’s true. But I never allowed myself to try.

Taking my thumb, I wipe his cheek. “Cam.”

I keep it there, holding his face.

He doesn’t look up.

“Cam,” I whisper. “Look at me.”

He shakes his head. “I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“What happens next.”

My chest pangs and I sigh.

“Not of being alone,” he says. “I’ve been alone my whole life.

” It makes me so despondent whenever Cam talks like this because he has six brothers and sisters, and when I think about growing up with Sienna in a small house with Mom, Dad, and Nonno, loneliness as a concept didn’t exist. “I don’t want to lose you. ”

“I don’t discard people,” I say.

“Promise?”

“Cam.”

Breathless, he reaches out for me, and I move in closer, my hand still on his cheek.

He kisses me and the yacht disappears.

Just as quickly, he pulls away. “I need you to make a decision.” He kisses my cheek softly and walks away.

I bury my face in my hands and slink down to the floor.

What do I do?

Who do I choose?

Which path is the right one?

It’s like I’m right back where I was a year ago, unsure of everything, regret building in my chest; the pressure to be precise in my movements now makes my hands tremble.

The clip - clop of flip-flops jolts me upright.

Benny. He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re playing with fire, you know.”

“Huh?” I try to play dumb, but he’s smart.

“You shouldn’t be kissing your ex in a grotto and telling him you love him, then kissing your boyfriend,” Benny says matter-of-factly.

“Boy friend ? Far be it from me to tell you how to live your life. I’m only an elder single fag.

Get your house in order.” He taps me on the shoulder and continues walking on as the captain announces we’ve arrived at the faraglioni.

How does Benny know what happened between me and Fielder? Did Fielder run and tell everybody? I think maybe Cam’s right. It’s time I make a decision.

The second I emerge from the side of the boat, I see Fielder, talking to Matty.

I wait for Matty to leave before walking up to him.

At the same time, we both say, “We have to talk.”

There’s a fire in his eyes.

Fielder leads me downstairs into the main cabin, through a secluded hallway, and into the primary suite adorned with rose petals clearly for Sienna and Topher, untouched. I wonder if they knew it was here.

He moves in to kiss me, but I step back.

“Did you tell everybody about us in the grotto?” I ask.

His eyes widen as he licks his lips. “Define everybody ?”

“Fuck, Fielder, really?!”

“I was telling Matty because I tell Matty everything. You know that, he’s my best friend, and Benny was kind of there too, and Monroe and Tyler because, well, it’s a long story that we can talk about once we talk about everything—”

My temples throb.

“So everybody knows?”

“Well, I mean, I didn’t mean to post anything to Clock. I thought I just had my camera open. Reflex, I guess. My fat fingers must’ve accidentally uploaded to my story and—”

“Your story ?”

“But it’s deleted now!”

I’m seeing red . “That was a private, vulnerable moment. For us. This is exactly why we broke up, Field. You’re always on your phone, missing life, and obsessing over dumb sh—”

“Dumb? We’re dumb . . .” He takes a step back.

“No, that’s not the point. I—That wasn’t meant for the entire world to see.

What did you think you were doing, capturing something viral?

Hoping to get more likes or follows or comments?

Looking for more validation? Real life isn’t online, Fielder.

Maybe Cam was right and you are using me for likes. ”

“Cam? What does Cam have to do with this?” Fielder’s face cracks. He pauses, and tears fill his eyes. “I’m sorry, believe me when I say it was a mistake. I wasn’t looking to record anything, and definitely not us . That was real. That meant everything to me.”

I look away. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

He moves closer. “Ricky, please.” His voice shakes. “I finally got you back. I can’t lose you again.”

I don’t say anything.

“Did you mean all that stuff you said about me?”

My jaw clenches.

“You know what . . .” He’s breathing heavy.

“Fuck you, Ric.” His chest is heaving in, out, in, out.

“ You left me . Like a coward. You don’t get to turn me into your breakup monster because I went ahead and made something of myself.

Yeah, maybe I spent a good deal of the last year pining after you and hoping I could win you back, and maybe that was misguided, but at least I was working on myself along the way.

” He turns his back on me. “I’m realizing now that I have actually changed.

I don’t post on Clock because I need validation; I do it because it gives me a sense of community and purpose, and I enjoy it—it’s given me a way to express myself, especially when I didn’t have direction, and now that I’m finding my voice and seeing where it can take me beyond the platform, raising awareness of environmental issues in food production and working in TV, but you know what?

Maybe you don’t deserve my time anymore.

Maybe you don’t know me at all if you think I could do something malicious like that.

Maybe you never did.” He reaches for the door handle.

“Fielder.” I call out for him, anger building in my chest. “Wait.”

I can’t let him walk out.

“What?” The word slices through me like a knife.

“You can’t leave like that.” Hand on his shoulder, I spin him around.

His chest heaves, anger or passion, or both.

He pushes me away.

“I hate you,” he says.

“That’s fine,” I say, and kiss him because I can’t help myself; we’re two magnets, and the universe is pulling us together, pushing us toward each other no matter the distance or obstacles thrown at us.

He’s tearing at my shirt, ripping it over my head.

He stares at the ring around my neck.

“Tell me you don’t love me,” he says.

“I—” Can’t.

He hooks a finger into the ring and pulls me forward. Then, slowly, tenderly, he kisses me, increasing in intensity. He moves from lips to cheek to earlobe.

My head knocks back against a window. My arms go limp, Eyes rolling from intense pleasure that sends shivers down my spine.

Unable to wait longer, he pushes me up against the wall, taking full control, which is so unlike anything Fielder that it sends me into overdrive.

Sensory memories of Fielder’s hands on my body, exploring me for the first time, flood me, but back then, it was never this intense, this fervent or urgent like both of us would cease to exist if we stopped.

Usually, I was the one who took control, told him what to do and where to go, and he obeyed.

Now, I’m his, I’m his. “I’m yours.”

Putty to shape or mold, do anything he wants.

Without warning, he pulls away. Locks the door. Eyes me with fervor, hunger.

My weak legs tremble, and I nearly crash to the floor.

Everything is so heady I barely register where I am when his hand grabs mine and he leads me to the bed and throws me onto it, messing up the rose petals.

He wedges himself between my legs, lifting the bottom half of my body and sliding our suits off. My legs wrap around him, and he hovers over me.

I stare deep into the lemon groves of his eyes.

I couldn’t carve a statue as intricately beautiful or pen a poem as epic as Fielder Lemon. I take a moment to study him, commit his face to memory, the face I’d already memorized yet somehow see there’s so much more to him than I knew.

Our lungs expand and contract together as our bodies rock with the waves.

Time slips through our entangled bodies, and I don’t know how long we’re locked in this room, but I don’t care. I won’t go back to a life without Fielder Lemon.

Twisted in the sheets, I sit up, towering over him, my torso slick with beads of sweat. I brush my damp, shaggy hair out of my eyes.

He collapses on top of me, my body floating in another dimension.

Butterfly kisses on cheeks.

We rest in each other’s arms. I allow him to hold me the way I used to hold him. The control over me he suddenly has is intoxicating and exciting.

I can’t get enough.

We’re awakened by the captain over the loudspeaker announcing our return to port in Amalfi.

Fielder moves to check his phone, which somehow ended up on the floor.

We missed the entire cruise along the coastline.

The sun is low in the sky, casting a light orange glow across the sea, but I don’t want this to end.

Not now.

Fielder sits on the edge of the bed, clutching the comforter to his chest.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“It feels too delicate, like it’s not real.”

I gently rub his back. Tears fill his eyes.

“You don’t believe me?” I ask.

“I want to. But I thought it was real before, when we were together, and now there’s a you and Cam, so .

. . I don’t know. But I gotta be honest, Ric.

” He looks out of breath, like he just ran a marathon.

“There’s a lot you missed. A lot we both missed.

” His admission startles me. “We haven’t talked about anything. ”

I grab his hand and squeeze it tight. I want to tell him I’ve regretted letting him go from the second I left.

He opens his mouth to talk, but stops himself, probably confused about how to act. Is he relieved, or angry at how I was able to walk away from him so quickly? I can still read his face, a gift and a horrible, flesh-eating, guilt-ridden curse.

I owe him an explanation. At the very least.

“Tonight,” I say. “Back at the villa. We’ll meet someplace neutral. The pool?” The first night at the villa floods me, standing there with Fielder under the stars surrounded by fireflies. It felt like meeting him all over again. “And talk about everything. Promise.”

“No. Not tonight,” he says. “I think after today, I need some time. We both do. You clearly have a decision to make.”

“Tomorrow, then.” I think of Topher’s surprise planned for Sienna that Fielder and I are supposed to collaborate on. “After the rehearsal dinner. Promise. You deserve that much.” You both do , I think to myself.

The weight of tomorrow presses against my rib cage.