Fade Into You: a love story

Chapter Fifteen: Anton

It didn't matter what Jess thought. We needed to get our shit together. I'd hung out at the bar for a while. I thought maybe she'd change her mind, decide she finally wanted to hear my side of things, but she never came back. I texted her a couple of times but she didn't answer. In the end I left a long, rambling message on her voicemail. She probably won't listen to it. Not if she's really serious about there being no us.

I don't even get why this bothers me so fucking much. When I had her, I didn't want her. I mean, I did...but not like he did. I saw Jessica and I saw a girl I could fuck. Sometimes that's all you want. And when I saw her, I thought I could have fun with her. I thought that's all she wanted too.

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I was the one who found Jessica on Tinder. We were at this bar called Musslan on Dalagatan and it was one of those sticky summer nights that feels like you're in the Caribbean instead of Scandinavia. Håkan was in a shitty mood and nursing his third pint of beer. He'd been interested in some girl, I don't remember her name, but she'd only wanted to study with him. Of course she did, he was too fucking smart for his own good. She was one of those girls who liked bad boys. And how did I know? I'd hooked up with her a couple of times at parties. She was cute, but utterly forgettable. He could have done better and I told him so. "I'll bet I could find a girl on Tinder and she'd be infinitely hotter and better than that chick."

Håkan gave me a skeptical look, so I took the challenge. I started and started swiping until I land on Jessica's profile. She didn't make it sound like she wanted anything more than a good time. I still remembered what it said: "About Jessica. Not the girl you'll marry, but the girl you'll love kissing. Out here seeing the world. Got my MA, and I'm ready to roll." I didn't know what she meant with the MA part, I thought it was a line from a rap. I showed it to Håkan and asked him if he could handle a girl who knew her hip hop, but he gave me this weird look and said, "I think she means she's got her Master's degree."

I thought he read it all wrong. "Who the fuck talks about their master's degree on Tinder? You're only there if you're looking to hook up."

Håkan was still checking out her profile and the pictures she'd posted there. In most of them, she wore her hair pulled into this tight bun and she was rocking this sexy librarian look, but there were a few where she wore her hair loose and curly and she was laughing like the whole world was hers for the taking.

"She looks nice," he said. He tried to sound blasé but the way he kept going back and looking at her profile, I knew he was already imagining what he'd say if he ever met her. That was pure Håkan. He lived in his fucking head. He never took risks. He would have never swiped right or started a conversation with her. Not if I hadn't got tired of waiting for him to do something.

So I snatched my phone from him and I started chatting with her. I liked the look of her. I told you that before. I thought he'd get on Tinder and start chatting her up too. But he hung back. He didn't even fucking try.

It wasn't even a competition. He didn't even fucking show up for the race.

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I started walking back to my hotel. I'd switched to one in Cagliari because I was fucking sick of driving back to Costa Smeralda every night. I was too drunk to drive most nights anyway. It wasn't so far from the one where Jessica was staying. I ended up walking up her street, hoping maybe I'd see her in one of the gelaterias or bars along the way, but no such luck.

Sweat was running down my back, my shirt was sticking to my skin. It almost felt hotter now than it did earlier. Maybe it was the alcohol making me feel this way. By the time I arrived at the door of her hotel, I knew I wasn't looking my best. I was more like a wilted flower. I knocked on the door until the owner came out looking a little harassed. She brightened up a little when she saw me and began speaking Italian with me before she remembered I couldn't speak the language.

"You just missed her," she said and offered me a bottle of mineral water.

"Have they gone out?" I asked her.

"He left yesterday and she left...twenty minutes ago." The proprietress told me. She fanned herself and let out an exasperated sigh at the heat. "She is going back to Stoccolma. She said she miss her man."

I let it sink in. I couldn't keep chasing her, could I? What a waste of my time. It wasn't like I wanted anything from her. I mean, it was never about getting her back forever. Not really. I knew he'd take his chance now. I just didn't want him to fucking win. Fuck it. I was too fucking tired and this wasn't even worth my time.

Let him have her. She wasn't the only fish in the sea.