Page 84 of Female Fantasy
But I just lie in his arms like an idiot, blanketed by the silence.
“Okay,” he finally says. “I’m going to take a shower, and then we’ll go.”
“Wait—”
But he doesn’t wait. He practically throws off the comforter and stalks toward the bathroom, head hanging low, avoiding my gaze. He moves so fast that I hardly have time to appreciate his naked body in the daylight, all those firm lines and taut muscles. The trail of light hair leading down his abdomen.
I swallow, my thoughts transforming into that of a prepubescent boy.
Stop it, I chastise myself.This is Nico. Nico!
He showers for about five minutes, then returns to the room fully and unfortunately clothed. Gone is the low-slung towel from the motel, the playful look in his eyes. Was all of that intentional? An attempt to woo me?
Have I been so blind to Nico as a love interest that I’ve failed to consider him as a leading man?
Without so much as glancing at me, he begins to throw items into his backpack with so much force, you’d think his deodorant owed him money. When he gets to my copy ofATale of Salt Water & Secrets, he looks down, face strained. Then he turns around and throws it at me.
“Here,” he snaps with a glare. “I don’t need this anymore.”
“You didn’t finish it,” I say, scrambling to recover the book.
He doesn’t respond, just keeps packing.
“Hey,” I say to his back. “What’s your problem?”
“I don’t have a problem,” he grumbles. “Drop it.”
“You’re obviously angry.”
“And you’re obviously delusional!”
My jaw drops; I’m taken aback by his aggression. Nico knows exactly how to get under my skin, but he rarely blows his lid at me like this. He normally wouldn’t dare.
“You knew why I was coming here,” I say slowly. “I’ve been up-front with you from the jump.”
He drops his face into his hands. “I know.”
The words come out muted against his palms.
“And you said you were okay with it,” I continue. “That it was none of your business—”
“That was before!” He waves his hands around in the air.
I blink several times, caught off guard by this display of emotion.
He sighs, then lowers himself onto the bed. “Look, I’m sorry for yelling. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that.”
“It’s okay,” I say. Then I take a deep breath. “Nico, last night was fun—”
“Fun?” He laughs haughtily. “Hockey games are fun. Ferris wheels are fun.”
“But we both know that we’re looking for different things,”I continue. “I want to fall in love. Nail-biting, toe-curling, knock-you-off-your-feet love. And no matter how”—I don’t have the words to describe what being with him in that way was like—“speciallast night felt, we both know you can’t give me that. I need to hear the words. I need to see the actions. Feelings, sensations—they’re not enough. It has to be…well, you know.”
“Real?” His voice is back to that cold, distant tone.
“Yeah.” I swallow. “Real.”
“That’s your problem, Joonie. It always has been. God, I feel so stupid. You’re so focused on the image you have in your head that you miss what’s right in front of you.” He laughs half-heartedly. “You say you want something real, but you’re still living in a fantasy.”
