“He doesn’t like me,” I say, shaking my head as if that will make my brain discard the words instead of latching on to them.
Oliver laughs. A full, deep belly laugh right in my face. The apples of his cheeks darken to a bright red, and he falls back onto the bed, removing his glasses to swipe away tears. His response grates on my nerves, and I kick his shin. It’s too early in the morning for this.
“He was talking about how he needed to get an iced matcha latte,” he continues, and my heart pounds.Thud. Thud. Thud.“I’ve never seen him eat anything green, let alone drink it.”
A knowing look crosses his face like he’s caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. “I thought you came here for advice, not to interrogate me.”
“Just making some observations.”
“Observe your own actions.”
His smile falters a bit, and guilt bites me.
“I don’t know what to tell you about Amy. You need to figure out what you want, Oliver. How long are you going to keep leading her on? We all know you told her it would never be anything more than this. And we both know she wants more.”
“I don’t know what to do.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“Do you love her?” I ask him, grateful for the small reprieve from my own issues.
He lowers his head, but he doesn’t answer. I don’t think he needs to, not really. He wouldn’t be so torn if he didn’t love her. “We can’t be together.”
“That’s not what I asked, but even so, both things can be true. You can love Amy and think you can’t be together. One truth doesn’t negate the other.”
“I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Do you want my real opinion? Or do you want me to blow smoke up your ass?”
For the first time ever, I no longer want to help solve someone else’s problem. I want to focus on mine. He’s a grown adult; he can fix his own shit.
“Uh…truth?”
“If you’re uttering the words ‘I don’t want to hurt her,’ it’s usually followed by hurting her, whether you mean to or not. So if you’re convinced you can’t be together, then save her any more heartbreak andstop.Whatever you two are doing, cut it out. Neither of you are getting out unscathed, but if it happens now, maybe it will hurt less.”
How many times did I contemplate leaving Tommy but stayed anyway? Oliver is not Tommy, but maybe it would have hurt less if I had left earlier. Maybe I wouldn’t be where I am, still trying to find a new mold of myself years later.
He hums, but then says, “Your phone keeps vibrating.”
Oliver flops back onto the bed, mumbling to himself and rubbing the bridge of his nose, and I read the messages I’ve received from Jett. Perhaps I am not the only one panicking.
Jett: Hi, Sofía.
I hope you slept well.
We have plans to get on the liveaboard today.
I messaged you earlier.
Are you awake? Can we talk?
That sounded bad. Not a bad talk.
I got you an iced matcha latte.
Could you meet me in the lobby where they serve breakfast?
Have you taken a Dramamine? In case you get seasick again.
I’ll be at a table waiting.
