Page 18 of Something Like Fate

He rounds the counter to pull me into a hug, rocking me side to side. “Thank you, Lo. This means a lot. Really.”

My cheek presses against the top of his chest, reminding me yet again of how ludicrously tall he is. “There’s still more!”

I watch expectantly as he opens the rest of the items: a yellow smiley-face stress ball (tobounceback), a box of Paw Patrol Band-Aids (to mend your broken heart), a pack of matches (for a ceremonial burning of Sophie’s things), and a candle with a homemade label that readsSmells Like That Shit Ain’t Your Problem Anymorein dainty script that amuses him.

I take in a sharp inhale when he reaches for the last item.

It feels like an eternity as I wait for him to pull it out. He even squints to ensure he’s seeing it correctly. “What—what is this?”

A plane ticket.

“Surprise! You’re coming to Italy with me,” I announce.

He just blinks, eyes darting back to the ticket to reread it. I can’t tell if he’s happy or not. “Excuse me?”

“Bianca’s foot shattered at Costco, so she can’t come anymore. And you need to get your mind off Sophie. No more moping around and crying.”

The decision to invite Teller was easy. He’s the kind of person who spirals and gets into his head. He needs a change of scenery, stat.

“I havenotbeen crying.”

“There’s nothing wrong with crying.”

“I know there isn’t. But I haven’t been.” It’s probably true. I’ve actually never seen Teller cry. Not because he’s one of those macho dudes, but because he’s just not a touchy-feely person in general. It takes a lot to elevate him—mad, sad, happy. He’s always been even-keeled, something I appreciate about him.

“You might as well have. You were listening to Coldplay until three in the morning. ‘The Scientist,’ when everyone knows ‘Yellow’ is their best.”

He tilts his head in a warning, yet playful expression. “Hey, you’re not allowed to use my Spotify account anymore if you’re going to slander ‘The Scientist.’ And I’m always up until three.”

Teller’s been letting me use his account since I decided to take up marathon running. He even made me a motivational playlist anddownloaded a couple podcasts he thought I’d like. Despite his best efforts, I couldn’t run more than 2K without getting winded and collapsing on the side of the road in a heap of sweat and regret. But I’ve been mooching off his account ever since. “Fair. No more Coldplay slander so long as you agree to come with me.”

He shakes his head and studies me, wary. “For a whole month? No way. I can’t. I have ... plans.”

“You do not have plans. You just moved home unexpectedly. Yesterday.”

“Actually, I was thinking of driving up to surprise Sophie. Maybe next week. Figured I’d give her some space and—”

I pretend to collapse face-first onto the counter. “Surprise her? You’d just show up at her door unannounced?”

He nods casually. “That’s what I was thinking—”

“No. Absolutely not,” I say point-blank. “Tel, that’s just desperate and creepy.”

The lines between his brows intensify. “I’m confused. When the PM knocks on every door in the neighborhood to find his assistant inLove, Actually, you said it was one of the most romantic gestures in all of cinema. But when I want to go see my girlfriend, it’s desperate and creepy?”

Crap. Forcing Teller to watch all those rom-coms really messed with his head.

“First, she’s your ex-girlfriend,” I correct. “And second, most romantic gestures in movies don’t actually translate to real life. Besides, your situation is different.Shebroke up withyou. She needs space. If she wants to reconnect with you, she will.”

He lets out a resigned sigh before wiping a mound of coffee grounds into the trash bin. “You’re probably right.”

“Since you no longer have plans ...,” I start, flashing a hopeful smile.

“I told you. I don’t do hostels. Or travel in general.” He’s not kidding. The farthest place he’s ever traveled to is Niagara Falls.

“Hostels have a bad rap. Just think of them as small, budget-friendly hotels. And guess what? We didn’t book ahead of time, so you can even vet them beforehand. Some even have private bathrooms if you pay a little extra.” He gives me a look that saysWhat the hell?I explain, “Bianca and I decided we didn’t want to be beholden to a strict itinerary, since we weren’t sure how long we’d want to stay in each place. We planned to loosely follow my mom and Mei’s trip, though. Minus the bookings.”

“A vacation without any bookings,” he says, lips pulled tight. “Sounds like the stuff of nightmares.”

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