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“That sounds like you had a lot of fun,” I admit, then give him a squeeze of his arm. “I’m happy for you.”
Rico’s eyes narrow. He’s having none of it. “Seriously? That’s all you’ve got to say?” He laughs. “You are so full of crap. The night I had was every gay man’s fantasy. You totally wish you were there.”
“I was …” My mind wanders again back to last night, leaving the sentence unfinished. Our peaceful moment by the lighthouse, overlooking the whole island. Riding on Kent’s bike. Cuddling with him on the couch while he tuned his guitar.
And everything that followed.
Ugh, I’m sad again.
Rico leans forward, his voice softening. “You were …?”
Fuck it. “I was with Kent. And … I don’t know what else to say. I …”
For one fleeting moment, I’m about to tell him how Kent basically just terminated our whole thing early. That I don’t know what to do. That I’m crazy about him. That I’m tempted even right now to be obnoxious and go right up to the Blue Coral Bakery and demand his attention.
But Rico puts a hand on my thigh, like he’s consoling me for a recent friend’s passing, and sighs deeply. “Jonah, my friend … why are you wasting all your time with him? His brother is so much hotter. He even has his own place, apparently.”
His own place, which apparently he hasn’t taken Rico to yet—and that speaks volumes. “Did you know Adrian stole Kent’s last boyfriend from him just to prove he wasn’t worth keeping?”
Rico blinks. “Really?”
“Yeah. And that’s a pretty dick move, I think even you can agree.”
“You’re right. That wasn’t nice of him.”
“I hope this really is just ‘fun’ for you, because Adrian is going to break your heart otherwise, and—”
“Of course it’s just fun for me. I keep saying, Jonah. I am not looking for a serious thing. That’s why he is what he is: a total fuck boy. I’m here to have fun. Not to find the love of my life.” He huffs at me. “I swear, Jonah, you read too many books, like that fat one you have in your lap. You get too serious all the time and romanticize everything.”
“Look, nothing against you, but I just prefer—”
“Nothing against me …?” Rico rolls his eyes. “Do me a favor. Stop insulting me with your politeness and just say what you mean. You think I’m a big whore just because I like to have fun and be sex positive. I’m young. I’m hot. I deserve it.”
“I did not call you a whore.”
“Your eyes did.”
“Eyes don’t talk. I didn’t call you anything. I’m happy you had fun last night, and—”
“There you go again with that politeness. Jesus, Jonah, wake the hell up and listen to yourself.”
I toss the book aside and face him full-on. “I’m young, too, just like you, but I wasn’t blessed with the genes you have that give you abs for days—”
“Thank you,” interjects Rico.
I steamroll on. “—and maybe I am more of a romantic, but why’s that a bad thing? My kind of fun just looks different than yours. Why can’t you be happy for me?”
“Because eyes do speak,” he spits back, “and honey, yours are sad.”
I could shout at him right now. I could scream. I could decide he’s right and give him the satisfaction of calling him all the bad names he wants me to call him, just so he feels vindicated in his accusations.
Instead, I employ the skills my annoying parents put inside me, take a breath, and divert. “Rico. Can we please stop fighting and, like … I don’t know … go pick up lunch somewhere? There’s this taqueria I saw at the other end of the boardwalk I’d like to try. Taqueria Tía Juanitas, I think it’s called. It also got great reviews. Or if you want, we could head over to the locals side of the island and eat at this cool place Kent took me to called the Desert—”
“No, thanks.” Rico rises from the lounger chair and pops his shades back over his eyes. “I’m gonna hit up the gym and tighten up for tonight. We’re going to meet up with those guys again at El Amado and go from there. I heard some big party thing is happening at the north pier, but Adrian said we didn’t have to go. I dunno. I’ll wing it.”
“Rico …”
“You should come to the gym with me, shed off some of those funnel cake pounds. Or don’t. You look fine. Not being bitchy, just inviting you.” He puts on a smile, but I can tell it’s a forced one. “Maybe you’ll see a hottie or two at the gym and realize I’m right. It’s an open invite.”
I don’t think I have the energy to even lift a five-pound dumbbell. I’m sapped from the sun, from this morning, from last night—from right now. “You go ahead without me. I’m just gonna lounge here awhile. Then I’ll … I don’t know … get some tacos by myself, I guess.”
