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Write a few essays in preparation for my courses. And hopefully escape New York’s heat and spend a few weeks in the Hamptons.
The Hamptons sound perfect. I wish I could spend the summer with you.
Do it.
I grinned.I need approval from my parents. Mom is having a chat with Aria tonight.
Will you be coming alone?
Just me.
Good. Keep me updated. If you want, I can chat with my mother.
That would be great. I need all the support I can get.
Done. We’ll have the summer of our lives.
I blew out a breath. Being this over-the-top positive was a bit un-Isa-like, but maybe she needed a great summer as much as I did. She’d gone through some shit herself, so we could both kick each other’s ass if we moped around.
I felt better, lighter, as if, for the first time in a while, I was the master of my own life, my happiness. I’d been so dependent on Nevio’s emotions that I’d felt helpless. Now that he’d broken my heart and I’d fallen as deep as I possibly could, I could start over.
The next day, I felt marginally better. My thoughts revolved around Mom’s conversation with Aria, which she’d had after dinner last night, but she and Dad had to work early today, so they hadn’t been at the breakfast table.
After a rushed breakfast to avoid Davide’s annoying questions about the party, I returned to my room to watch a few of my favorite skateboard YouTubers.
Someone knocked on my door, and my positive attitude went out the window. What if this was Nevio? I was so ready to move on, but I hadn’t yet, and a confrontation with him would take a lot out of me. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of him.
I wanted to give him the middle finger, kick his balls, and send him away. I tried to channel this version of Aurora as I went to my door and opened it with force.
Davide raised his eyebrows. “Why are you scowling like that?”
“Because I want some peace and quiet, and I’m not getting it.”
He made a face as if he couldn’t be bothered with my emotions. “Whatever. I’m heading over to the pool. Do you want to come too?”
It was sweltering, and I would have loved a splash in the pool, but there was no way I would go over to the Falcone’s today. With a little luck, I’d avoid Nevio until I’d hopefully leave for New York.
The splashing and laughter echoed through my window again as if to mock me.
“No, thanks. I’ll stay in.”
“It’s 110 degrees. You’ll melt.”
“I’ll turn the AC up, then.”
He shrugged and turned. “Nevio asked when you’d come over, just so you know.”
My throat tightened. “You can tell him I’m not.”
I closed my door.
Ten minutes later, there was another knock. Gosh, what now? I stomped toward the door and ripped it open.
The floor seemed to drop out from under my feet when I spotted Nevio.
I stared up at him. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d bothered coming over. Suddenly, as if reminded of what happened, I felt the soreness between my legs that I’d successfully ignored all day. Every feeling of mortification and hurt was back.
“Go away,” I pressed out. I began to shut the door, but Nevio shoved it open with his shoulder, slipped into my room, and closed the door.
