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Juliet's phone rings on the ledge.
MOM, reads on the screen. But then I notice something unexpected.
My underwear shoot from three years ago as Juliet’s background.
She reaches over and silences her phone, letting out a frustrated sigh before taking another sip of her beer. She stares back out towards the city center.
Does she not know that I can see the screen?
Or does she not care?
“That doesn’t seem fair. I don’t have one of you,” I say.
“What are you talking about,” she asks, turning back to me.
I nod down to her phone that’s still lit up from her mom’s ignored call.
The second her eyes drop to her phone and connect with the same image, her jaw drops, and a look of pure panic covers her face.
“Oh my God! I didn’t do that — I meant to change it — my best friend… she’s the one, ”
Juliet dives for her phone, her fingers tangling together to hibernate the screen as quickly as she can.
“That photo wasn’t taken from my good side. I have a better one if you’d like,” I tease.
She holds her phone in one hand and covers her eyes with the other.
She’s embarrassed, but she shouldn’t be.
She said her friend did it, and maybe that’s true, but I still like that it’s on her phone.
“I’m mortified and half tempted to just toss myself over the ledge of this building,” she says, her hand still covering her eyes.
I reach for her hand and pull it from her face.
“Please don’t do that. We came up here alone and without a witness, someone might think I pushed you for the life insurance policy,” I tell her, trying to lighten the mood.
She lets out a little snicker and looks up at me.
“And besides, you shouldn’t be mortified, I’m your fiancé. You can look… and you can touch,” I say.
I guide her hand to lay on my abs hoping to get a laugh or a chuckle out of her.
She pulls her hand away instantly and rolls her eyes but can’t stop the grin from forming across her lips, though I know she’s trying to resist.
“Fake fiancé, remember?”
I shrug my shoulders and reach for my beer, finishing off what’s left of it.
Below us, I hear a few people exit the bar. It’s getting close to closing time and the temperatures are starting to drop.
“I should take you home. It’s late and tomorrow we have our interview with immigration.”
Juliet looks down at her phone in her hand and checks the time.
“Oh… I didn’t realize it was after one in the morning. Yeah, I’d better get home and get some rest before tomorrow.”
I nod, I’d like to spend more time getting to know her a little better before our meeting, but we’ll just have to wing it.
