Page 55 of Female Fantasy
I blink as a novel emotion invades my senses, causing the blood in my brain to thrash violently against my ears.
“We should get going,” I tell him, breaking the spell.
Begrudgingly, he untangles his limbs from mine. I feel hisabsence immediately, missing the heat of his body, his breath against the nape of my neck.
“To New York,” he says, a bite of bitterness in his innocuous words. “Your soul mate awaits. Right?”
I swallow, staring at the floral wallpaper, which distorts in front of my eyes like a kaleidoscope. “Right.”
What in the siren’s name is happening to me?
Ever since I mustered the courage to walk away from Kyle and serendipitously discoveredA Tale of Salt Water & Secrets, Ryke has been my dream man. Beautiful, attentive, supportive Ryke. Nico is the polar opposite of Ryke in every way. Stubborn to a fault. Pessimistic like he’s paid to be. For my entire adulthood, he has treated me like some naïve, starry-eyed kid with no knowledge of what it’s like to survive in the real world. He has tested my belief in happily ever afters, stolen away my childhood and its innocence. Nico has always refused to take me seriously. That’s one of the only facts of the universe I can count on.
So why am I sitting in the center of this heart-shaped waterbed with a fresh face of makeup, dressed in a coquettish baby doll dress and tights, actively trying not to think about the fact that Nico is currently in the shower, presumably very naked?
I really need help.
And to keep my eye on the prize.
Today, I get one step closer to Ryan Mare.
New York City.
The bathroom door opens, and Nico walks out, steamfrom the shower wafting into the room. There’s a faded towel hanging low on his hips and droplets of water weaving their way down his bare chest.
All coherent thought leaves my brain.
I can’t help it.
Like, I straight-up gawk.
Nico smirks. “Did you talk to the front desk lady?”
I dig my nails into the palm of my hand, attempting to snap out of it. “Yup. I paid the bill—you owe me twenty dollars, by the way—and asked her to call us a cab to the nearest Metro-North station. We need to be downstairs in ten.”
He nods. I don’t miss the way his eyes rake over my outfit. Quickly, as if he’s scared of looking too closely and burning his retinas.
“Can I have a minute?”
“Oh my God, of course,” I say, slapping a hand over my eyes. “I’ll go wait downstairs.”
Mortified, I get up and grab my duffel, then shuffle toward the door, all the while avoiding his gaze. I don’t exhale until I get downstairs, the color in my cheeks rosier than the motel walls. I need to get my shit together before this spirals out of hand.
The same concierge lady as last night is waiting at the entrance. She takes in my red face and throws me a wink. I wish, and not for the first time, that I could blow the Conch of Hippios and be spirited away.
Minutes later, a fully clothed Nico comes downstairs and joins me. “You look nice,” he says without looking at me.
“Go to hell,” I reply.
He bites his lip, fighting a grin. “I’m serious.”
“Me too.”
Holy Furnace, this is awkward. I don’t know how to act around him anymore. Trading insults and smart quips? My bread and butter. Chatting up unimpressive men? I’m practically licensed. But talking to someone who launched a crusade for my family’s honorandinside my panties this morning? That’s uncharted territory for me.
And I’m learning that I’d actually rather go back to being held hostage.
A crush.
