Page 72 of When We Feel


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RAVEN

In her hotel room,talking on the phone.

The same evening.

“Things are good,”I say, slathering more lotion on and massaging my legs while dispersing it across my skin. “I’m getting ready to go out.”

“I envy you,” Giana says. “The street is covered in snow, and the wind tosses flurries at the windows. You don’t want to be here.”

I have that image in front of me while staring blankly at the bottle of lotion, putting the cap on, and twisting it closed.

I sit on the bed, my back against a pillow, naked under the bathroom robe, my phone next to me.

Giana is on speaker.

She doesn’t know that, but I’d love to be there with her right now.

“Did you swim?” she asks, chewing on something.

“What are you eating?” I say, placing the plastic bottle on the nightstand and slumping against the pillow, my gaze moving to the night view ushered in through the glass wall.

“Stromboli.”

“Mmm… Sounds delicious.”

I think about it for a moment.

“No. I didn’t swim.”

“What did you do?”

“Uh, not much.”

A lot, in fact.

“How’s your boss?”

“Missing?”

She pauses.

“What??”

I laugh.

“He’s doing his stuff. I don’t know where he is. I’ll see him tonight… I guess.”

“What happened?”

“Huh?”

“What happened with your budding love story?”

I reach for the glass of water on the nightstand and take a sip.

“What love story? There is no love story.”

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