11
Destiny
When I walk back in from the gym, I’m ready for another shower. But before I can do that, Candi calls.
“Hey, how are you?” I ask.
“Hey, girl. I have a break for a little while and took a chance you’d be around.”
“I am. I just got back from the gym.”
“Really? That’s kinda late for you isn’t it?”
“Um, it is, a little.” I stall, not sure I should tell her about Nicco. I mean, she’s my best friend and we share everything, but really, is there anything to share? Just because I’m having the hottest fantasies about him and finding him to be more interesting than I thought he’d be in real life doesn’t mean there’s anything to actually share with her, right? “How’s Hawaii?”
“It’s fine,” she says with a mischievous undercurrent.
“Have you been able to sight-see at all? Or is it all just work, work, work?”
“So far, it’s been all work, but I’m going to stay a few days longer since I have some time between jobs. Um, let’s back up a bit. Why are you so late in getting back from the gym?”
“I — I just got a late start, that’s all.” I’ve never been a good liar and she knows the different tones of my voice too well.
“Bullshit. Des, what’s going on?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing.”
“Okay, let’s say I believe you, which I don’t. How are things going with Nicco and your tour guiding?”
“Good. Really good. On Sunday, I took him to the observatory and the sign to get a picture. He stayed for dinner that night. We got Hana’s and he made his first s’more.” I laugh, recalling him flinging his flaming marshmallow into the sand. “He torched his marshmallow. And yesterday I took him to the pier. It was nice, but ugh, I had a bit of an incident.”
“An incident?”
“It was so embarrassing.” I drop my head into my hand. “We were at the top of the Ferris wheel and, whoosh, it hit me, a panic attack.”
She gasps. “Oh, Des.”
“I know. It came out of nowhere. You know I haven’t had one in years. And I didn’t have my emergency medicine with me. It was awful. But Nicco was,” I pause. “Incredible. He was so compassionate and took care of me. Even stayed for dinner to make sure I was okay. And...” I pause.
“And?”
“And, well, we ended up falling asleep on the sofa.”
“Together?” Her voice raises a pitch.
“No, not together. I mean, yes, technically on my sofa together, but nottogether,” I emphasize. “Trust me, it was completely accidental.”
“Hmh.” For such a small sound, it packs a punch of suspicion. “So, he was there this morning?”
“Yes. He made scrambled eggs and toast.”
“That was nice.” I can see the wheels spinning in her head.
“Can, come on. I know exactly what you’re thinking and no. Be realistic.”
“Why? Why do I have to be realistic? Dreams aren’t always realistic and sometimes, miracles happen and dreams come true.”
“Candi,” I say sternly. “He’s Niccolo-fucking-Mancini. I have no business thinking or dreaming anything realistic about him. Also, he smokes. No. No, no, no. Besides, we both know my creativity suffers when I’m in a relationship. I need to be single in order to fuel my imagination.” I walk out to the back porch and sit on my swing, curling my legs under me.