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There’s no way I’m fucking this up. Even if we end in disaster, I’d rather go out blazing than never find out what could happen between us. We may not be ones for long-term commitment, but I’ve never shied away from learning something new.
I upload the video and hand her phone back to her.
She scans the screen. “You didn’t log out.”
“That way, when you get a good video of me tomorrow, I can go ahead and post right from your phone.”
“I’m going to go through your account.” Lily’s teasing tone is apparent.
She probably will, but I’ve got nothing to hide.
“Go ahead. I haven’t forgotten about rule number three,” I remind her.No one else.“When I make a promise to you now, Lily, I intend on keeping it.”
Chapter19
Lily
I’ll just lookone more time. It’s not like I haven’t been pacing around the air-conditioned hotel living room for the past hour, rationalizing taking another glance.
Onemore look on top of the other hundred times isn’t gonna hurt.
I really shouldn’t keep trying to find something. I don’t even know what I’m looking for.
An ex-girlfriend who still sends him messages? A current girlfriend he’s lying about?
Nico wouldn’t.Right?
My heart violently rebukes me when I open his Instagram account. A collection of thirty photographs, plus the video I took of him, is on his page. Some of the pictures are random landscapes, all terribly staged and blurry. In a few images, Nico’s smiling face is surrounded by random strangers or hidden by sunglasses, goggles, or baseball caps.
In a scenario where you’re stalking a man on social media, this account is ideal: infrequently used and following only a handful of people, most of whom are his friends and family.
At least, I think so.
The most recent photograph is from Luca and Avery’s wedding. It’s Nico and his parents hugging Avery and Luca. I’m in the photo as well, my arms wrapped around my best friend.
I’m also the only woman featured on the four-year-old profile besides his new sister-in-law and his mother.
I hover my finger over his inbox.
Sure, I rage about privacy all the time. But he left it open on my phone, practically begging for the intrusion.
Who wouldn’t look?
Fuck it, I give in to the temptation again.
Sixty-two unread messages.
Typical.
Most of the DM previews—I’m not about to open his unread messages because it would be taking things way too far—seem to be other guys sending reactions to the surfing video I took.
My eyes land on some threads I can swipe into.
All I find are unanswered messages from different women, some with subtle flirting and heart emojis, others with very blatant come-ons: “DTF?”; “You around tonight?”; “Come see me.”
He left them all on read. A move I’m very familiar with, but Nico?
The strain in my jaw releases, an almost-painful clenching of my teeth I didn’t realize was there. Sure, he may have deleted the risqué ones earlier on the trip. Maybe he orchestrated leaving his phone in the lockers today and deleted all the unseemly DMs last night or something.
