COMPLICATED.

CHAPTER 30

THE PENROSE

​My phone seems possessed; it keeps vibrating on the table, and the same name flashes on the screen over and over: Nick. He’s probably out of his mind with worry, and knowing his temperament lately, he’s likely already deciding which dumpster in New York to shove Leo into after beating him to a pulp.
​I am exhausted, emotionally drained. The shock of the confrontation with my ex has stripped away any desire to talk, even to Nick. Actually, especially to him, because I know his reaction would only end up throwing gasoline on the fire. Today was too beautiful; I discovered emotions I didn't think could exist, and I have no intention of letting reality ruin this fragment of pure, albeit temporary, happiness.
​"Emma, if you don’t answer, he’ll get even angrier and come hunt you down wherever you are!" my inner voice warns. I sigh, scrolling through my phone’s gallery. A photo of Nick at the beach pops up: those deep, magnetic green eyes seem to almost beg me to answer. Resist, Emma. Don't give in. Actually, answer... oh, to hell with it! I opt for a middle ground and send him a lightning-fast text.

​"Everything is fine, really. I can’t talk right now. Speak later. Emma x"

​There. Problem solved, right? I’m only a few yards away from the café, and I hope Aria hasn't been counting the minutes. But the phone emits a hiss: an immediate reply.
​"No, we’re talking now! Where are you and why aren’t you answering? You’re driving me crazy!"
​Sweetheart, that’s exactly my plan: to drive you crazy.
But what is wrong with me? I shake my head to clear these unchaste thoughts. I understand he wants to protect me, but he’s overdoing it now. Don’t ruin today's magic!
​"I told you I can't talk, that’s why I’m not answering. I’m fine, I’m at the café with Aria. I’ll call you later."
​"Emma!" Aria’s shrill voice reaches me as I cross the street. She waves frantically, and I quicken my pace to reach her. We exchange a quick hug, but she pulls away immediately, sighing.
"Sorry, but I’m a wreck. I overdid it at the party, and now I’m feeling the weight of every single drink."
Indeed, she doesn't look great: her hair is a bird's nest, her huge sunglasses are clearly hiding dark circles as deep as craters, and the oversized hoodie makes her look ready for hibernation rather than coffee.
"Instead of an espresso, you need a double dose of chamomile!" I joke, seeing her so destroyed.
​"Don't rub it in. Oh, sorry... an unknown number is calling me."
Aria looks at the screen, puzzled, then, moved by curiosity, answers while trying to strike a professional tone. "Hello, this is Aria speaking..."
I burst out laughing, and in response, she gives me a playful elbow nudge. Suddenly, though, her expression changes. Her eyes widen, and her mouth hangs slightly open.
"Cold? Is that really you?!" she exclaims, clutching her chest as if she’d seen a ghost.
Is she teasing me? How on earth did Nick get Aria’s number? He should seriously consider a career in the secret service, forget the piano.
"Ah, she isn't answering you, huh? Wonder what you did! Yes, of course, I’ll pass her to you right now."
​"He wants to talk to you," she tells me with a mischievous smirk, winking and blowing me kisses.
I roll my eyes and take the phone, resigned. "Yes, Nick, what is it?"
"Which café are you at?" His voice is cold—that authoritative tone that admits no argument. I feel a shiver, but one of irritation.
"Why should you know? I told you I’m fine, there’s no need to play bodyguard..."
"Emma. What’s the name of the place?"
"None of your business," I snap back.
​"The Penrose!" Aria yells suddenly, making sure he hears loud and clear.
I press the phone to my chest and give her a murderous look, but she just smiles like an angel. I hate her right now, I swear.
"Nick?" I resume the call, expecting a barrage of scolding. Silence. "Nick, are you there?"
Nothing. I check the screen: he hung up.
"I don't believe it, he hung up on me!" I exclaim in disbelief.
​"Don't worry, he just wanted the geographic coordinates. Now let’s go inside; I need caffeine or I’ll die right here on the sidewalk."
We walk into The Penrose, a place far too luxurious for our "war veteran" appearance, but we sit down with extreme nonchalance anyway.
"Next time, ask my permission before playing the spy," I scold her as I flip through the menu.
"And where’s the fun in that?" she retorts, arching an eyebrow defiantly.
​The waiter approaches us with an air of superiority that I’d love to wipe off his face with a mile-long order.
"A cappuccino and a glass of sparkling water for me, please," I begin.
Aria’s turn. I look at her: her skin is a pale shade of gray. "For me... a chamomile tea."
Wise decision, my friend.
"Anything to eat? Biscuits, pastries?" the waiter asks. I see Aria flinch, caught by a wave of nausea.
"Yes, bring a nice tray of biscuits, thank you," I add, looking her in the eye out of pure spite.
The waiter moves away, and she hisses: "You’re a brat!"
"Consider it my revenge for the tip-off to Nick!"
​While we wait, we start chatting. Aria admits she feels guilty for letting me drink so much at the party, but I reassure her: the choice was mine. Then, her curiosity takes over.
"So... how did the night end? And this morning?"
I feel my cheeks heating up. I tell her everything: breakfast, the tension, the scene with Jack. Aria goes from surprise to indignation in a second.
"And then... we went to the park for a picnic," I say, looking down at the tablecloth.
She smiles at me; she’s already guessed everything from my eyes. "And...?"
"We talked a lot."
"And then?"
"We hugged... several times."
"Emma, don't beat around the bush. And then?"
​I take a deep breath and say it all in one go, almost coughing to hide the words: "Andwebothkissed."
"What? I didn't hear that well..." she chants, enjoying my embarrassment.
"We kissed, okay? Don't make it a national tragedy!" I exclaim, covering my face with my hands.
Aria lets out a little shriek that makes half the customers in the café turn around. How embarrassing.
"But was it a kiss-kiss or did you guys actually make out? Because the difference is fundamental!"
"Aria! Do you hear yourself?!"
"Come on, spill the beans! Is he a good kisser? I’ve always wondered, he has that look like he's—"
"Stop it, I’m not telling you anything."
She crosses her arms, staring at me, waiting for the verdict.
​"Let’s just say I handle myself quite well," a deep and far too familiar voice answers from right behind my shoulders.
My heart leaps into my throat. I don't need to turn around to know who it is.
"Nick?"