Page 42 of Capri

I still ask myself: will she like the restaurant I chose for her? Does she have any allergies? Do I make her as nervous as she makes me?

Fuck. Feeling this way over someone after two days is a dangerous realm to be in. As much as I can tell my feelings to fuck off and stay out of this arrangement Capri and I have made together, it’s proving to be much more difficult than I anticipated.

There’s something different about her.

She may be young, but there’s a deep hurt I can see in her eyes that leads me to believe she never recovered from something substantial.

Substantial enough to take root.

It’s not my business to know; I’m just waiting on my brain to catch up to that reality.

Ding. Ding.

I settle on a casual fit for the day when my phone alerts me of a text message coming in.

Romeo:

How goes it, lover boy?

Jones:

This doesn’t seem important.

Romeo:

It’s not about work, therefore making it very important. You good? Heart fully intact from the bombshell that fucked you up inside yesterday?

Jones:

For someone who doesn’t speak English, you speak it too well. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Romeo:

Practice makes perfect. Brother, I could hear your growl from across the boat. You’re not fooling anyone.

Jones:

We’re just having fun.

Romeo:

I’ve known you for years and never once seen you have fun.

Jones:

This is different.

Romeo:

You mean SHE’S different?

Jones:

Sure. Think what you want. She leaves in five days.

Romeo:

All I’m saying is…it’s good to see you happy. Even if it’s only for five days. Your dick probably forgot how to operate.

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