“No,” I say glumly. “I like the rest of his family too much.” A sigh slips out. “And I don’t want him dead, either. I think he probably feels terrible about what he did. But that doesn’t mean I’d ever take him back. Do you know how humiliating it is knowing he was sleeping with other women? Meanwhile, he was lying to me about it and buying me dumb gifts and making me feel like—” My voice cracks and I stop talking, because there’s no point in continuing.
It’s over between Nico and me. And I truly don’t want him back. In fact, since I blocked his number it’s almost like a weight was lifted off my chest.
“Ugh. Mom, I just want to be alone for a bit,” I admit. “Do you mind putting aside a plate for me so I can eat it later?”
“Of course, mami. If you need me I’m only a shout away, okay?”
Once she’s gone, I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling. The room was dusted and cleaned in anticipation of my arrival, and it smells like pine and fresh linens. Mom knows how to make everything feel homey.
I roll over and toy with the edge of a throw pillow. This truly sucks. I hate how entangled mine and Nico’s families are. I’m always going to have this constant reminder of him, when all I want to do is put him behind me. Truth be told, I’m ready to move on. Or, at the very least, I’m intrigued by the idea of being with somebody new.
Sighing, I open Instagram and mindlessly scroll through my feed. I make sure to follow Pablo Eggscobar, who still only has one pic up. I wonder if that little rope hammock was homemade. I can’t imagine where they might’ve bought one. Hastings isn’t exactly teeming with miniature egg clothing and accessories boutiques.
Hunter texts during my scrolling session, a welcome distraction from social media.
HUNTER: You make it to the city all right?
ME: Yep. I’m here now. But it was the worst bus ride EVER. The guy beside me kept showing me pictures of his ferrets.
HIM: Ferrets???
ME: Ferrets.
HIM: Semi, I think you sat beside a serial killer. Next time please text me a pic of your seatmate so I have something to show the police.
I laugh to myself, and type, Are you in Greenwich? I know he was making the drive there after his morning practice.
HIM: Yeah. Drove up with Summer and Fitzy. He’s spending Thanksgiving with her fam.
ME: And for you, it’s just you and your parents? No uncle/aunt/cousins/grandparents?
HIM: Nope. Just the three of us. Oh joy.
ME: Is it that bad?
HIM: My father yelled at the caterer for only putting out one communal gravy boat on the table instead of small individual ones for each person. I heard her crying in the kitchen afterward.
Oh Lord, that’s brutal. And I can’t believe his family gets catering for Thanksgiving. My mother would literally rather face an execution squad than entrust someone else to cook Thanksgiving dinner.
ME: That = fucked up. Though if it makes you feel better, my father’s being insufferable right now too. I just told them about Nico, and Dad tried to convince me to give him another chance!!
HIM: Seriously??
ME: Yep. He’s obsessed with him.
HIM: Do you *want* to give him another chance?
ME: 100% no. Actually, I was just thinking before you texted that I might be ready for…drum roll please…a rebound.
HIM: Oooh exciting. Those are fun.
ME: Are you volunteering for the job?
Wait. What?
What the hell did I just type? And to add to my sudden case of agitation, Hunter responds with an LOL.
ME: WTF does that mean?
HIM: It means laughing out loud.
ME: I know what LOL means! But why are you laughing at me?
HIM: Because you were joking…?
ME: What, rebounding with me is a laughing matter? You don’t think I’m cute?
HIM: You’re more than cute.
I can feel myself blushing. This entire conversation is ridiculous. Of course Hunter wasn’t volunteering to be my rebound, and now I’m just fishing for compliments because I’m insecure that my ex-boyfriend couldn’t keep his pants zipped. Literally and figuratively.
HIM: Can we be real? Are you legit asking me to be your rebound?
My thumb hovers over the letter y. I could just press it, and then the letter e, the letter s. But that means opening the door to something that could blow up in my face. Hunter and I are friends. I find him attractive, but this is the first time I’ve considered being more than friends.
I don’t get the chance to type those three letters, as Hunter sends a follow-up.
HIM: Because you know I’d have to say no, Semi. I’m out of commission.
I don’t even try to make sense of the disappointment that flutters through me. My emotions are all over the place these days.