Page 3 of Italy Can Bite Me

She starts scrolling through a website full of stripper photos and profiles, featuring men who clearly lost their clothes in some tragic laundry accident—hello, no shirts! Each profile picture showcases another set of abs so perfect they seem airbrushed.

My fiancé Jared has his own distinct flavor of charm—he’s a big old huggable teddy bear in dress slacks and a matching vest, always topped off with a colorful, patterned tie(usually featuring dinosaurs).But these men… they could bench press all three of us while inducing orgasms with a sultry stare and some sexy whispers.

Why is everything suddenly so warm?

“No!” I squeak. “We’ll have a nice dinner at CPK. Right, Cam?” I deploy my best pleading eyes.

“Lo siento.Sorry.” Cam’s betrayal comes with an apologetic smile. “I vote stripper! For documentary purposes, of course.”

“Dr. Hard Body is officially booked!” Petra announces triumphantly.

“Look at you, already acting like the perfect corporate assistant,” Cam says.

Petra groans. “This is my last week of sweet freedom before I enter my brother’s corporate hell. Bro already sent me the employee handbook. It’s like fifty pages of ‘don’t embarrass the family name.’ As if I haven’t made that my personal brand for the past twenty-five years.”

“Maybe you’ll surprise him,” I say, slapping on some fake optimism. Truthfully, no binder of advice—no matter how thick—could get Petra get through her first week without disaster.

“I’ll surprise him all right. Maybe I’ll get a new tattoo to celebrate my entry into corporate slavery. Something really visible. Like…Capitalism is a Scam, on my cheek.”

“Well, bright side, at least you’ll get to see Bryce on the daily.” Cam winces, instantly regretting her words.

Oh shit.

Red alert! Red alert! The B-bomb has been dropped! Initiate damage control protocols!

I watch Petra’s face do that thing it always does at the mention of her brother’s best friend—like she’s trying to swallow a particularly bitter pill while maintaining her couldn’t-care-less expression.

My heart twists. I’ve seen drunk Petra cry about Bryce Sterling exactly three times—once when she confessed she’d been in love with him since she was thirteen, another after she poured her heart out and he didn’t return her feelings, and again when he and his girlfriend bought that perfect little house in the hills.

Here’s the thing about Petra—she’s got two settings when it comes to feelings:

1. Run away.

2. Run awayfaster.

That’s the fucked-up thing about unrequited love—it hollows you out piece by piece. And Petra’s been giving pieces of herself to Bryce Sterling since middle school. Now she’ll be trapped in that corporate tower with him, watching him live out her dreams with someone else.

Every. Single. Day.

“It’s fine. I just have to get through this summer,” Petra mutters, picking at a hole in her ripped jeans. “Prove to my family I’m not the fuckup they think I am.”

“You’re totally gonna be the most badass assistant your brother’s ever had,” Cam says with that sunshine certainty of hers.

“Absolutely,” I agree.

Something in that moment hits me. This is the first summer our little group of three won’t be packing our bags and hitting the road together. Petra’s adulting hard with a real job, Cam’s busier than ever with her own career, and I’m about to tie the knot. I get it, marriage changes everything, but can’t this little part of my life stay the same for just a bit longer?

“Guys, I know you’ll both be really busy this summer, but…” I say, my voice getting embarrassingly wobbly.

“Oh God, she’s getting sentimental,” Petra groans. “Quick, distract her with a smudged wedding invitation!”

“Actually, I got you guys presents.” I reach under the sturdy legs of the dining table and hand them my surprise planners.

“Dear God, she’s breeding binders like rabbits.” Petra’s eyes widen in mock horror as she flips through the pages. “The woman’s planned our entire lives. Quick, Cam! Check if she’s booked your unborn children’s teeth cleanings.”

“Well, there goes your birthday present,” I deadpan. “But seriously, we’re each diving headfirst into these huge new chapters, and I don’t want us to lose touch. Things might get tricky when we’re not all together. Petra, that binder’s gonna stop you from torching all of Mexico at your brother’s wedding, and Cam, trust me, you’re going to need some chill time away from spoiled influencers in Hawaii.”

They both go quiet, looking at the tabbed sections. Pages full of our memories, our inside jokes, our complete failure to maintain any kind of normal friendship dynamic.

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