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I don’t want to forget you even if I have to. To move on from a distance, you left between us. I’ll erase our lines because they deserve to be let go.
Hewasn’t anything like Enzo.
When I checked into the hotel and saw him smiling shyly at me, I knew how easy it would be. It was easy to show interest in something I didn’t crave when it wasn’t with Enzo. But I wanted to forget him like he had forgotten me.
I don’t usually sleep well at night, and I found myself outside interacting with him on his smoke break.
He had that kind of smile that makes you squint, his black curly hair, his Puerto Rican accent. Rico, he had a rather large birthmark on his right cheek. But it didn’t take away from his beauty or his masculinity. He seemed like a man who didn’t know how handsome he was or how confident he should be.
I liked how the cigarette smoke danced away from him like his wingman was.
It was never forever.
When I said I was headed for a walk, he told me to be safe. I thanked him and assured Rico the worst had already happened.
The world thinks women want broken men because they think they will be the ones to fix them, to tame them. But society doesn’t talk about those men who like broken girls. Because sometimes, their sweet lies make someone believe for a while.
Unique, beautiful, brilliant.
But honestly, I want to listen to his pickup lines or the way he stumbled over my name. I asked when he got off work, and he bit his lip, looking over his shoulder at the hotel behind him.
Rico doesn’t answer me, just says.
“I’ll find you.”
I’m editing a few photos, and I hear the softest knock at two a.m. A hesitant knock. I see Rico starting down the hallway when I look through the hole.
I open with a hello.
“I’ve never done this before.” And by the way Rico rambles it out, I believe him. His dark eyes look down at the floor and then back at me.
“You shouldn’t; it could be trouble.” I want him to know this because I know what two bodies can do to each other, even just for one night.
“But I want to.”
So I step aside, and he walks in.
A few seconds, I see him battling with himself, then Rico shakes his head and reaches out to touch me. He is slow to feel me, then his skin heats up mine, and we both rush to remove the restraints.
Those luscious lips cater to my neck; they kiss and suck.
We fall asleep until two in the afternoon.
“Hey, I have to get to work, Phoebe.” Rico gets dressed; I don’t see it. I hear it.
Who is Phoebe?
Oh right, I am. The way he stutters my name is an impulse to tell him it is wrong, but it isn’t the incorrect name on his lips. It is just a different person saying the word.
“I’ve got to go on a hike.” I pull the pillow away from my face.
“Maybe I’ll see you again tonight?” There is hope in his voice.
“I’m here until Thursday.” There are only facts in mine.
“Bye.” He kisses me on the head, and I pat him on the arm and smile.
I showered off last night and weaved my hair into braids for the long hot walk up the mountain. Yet my focus isn’t on the view. It is in the past on, Enzo.
