Page 47 of When Love Gives You Lemons
Benny looks at Tyler and shakes his head as if to silence Tyler.
“Now you have to say it,” I demand.
Tyler braces for impact as he says, “A fame whore. His words, not mine!”
“Is that the worst he can do—hold up!”
I spot the back of a BeyoncéRenaissancetee, the glittery font sparkling in the sun’s rays like a beacon. The thin-framed man turns his head, and Cam’s black-framed glasses come into view. He’s talking to some all-American beefcake in a backward baseball cap leaning against a stone wall. They’re tucked away in the frame of an arching doorway, just out of sight to most, but now that I’ve seen them, I can’t look away. From this far away, the guy could almost pass for Matty. Except Matty wouldn’t be caught dead in American Eagle apparel; that embossed eagle logo is offensively large.
All-American Beefcake leans in and whispers something into Cam’s ears.
Cam shows him something on his phone.
They share a stolen laugh, but quickly hide the phone screen from sight.
Grabbing hold of Benny and Tyler, I yank them down and we hide, careful not to let Cam see us.
All-American Beefcake checks the time on his watch, and I lip-read something that looks like, “I have to go.”
Cam pouts, then checks the time on his phone and rolls his eyes. He turns his head in our direction, so we stay low and duck-waddle into a storefront full of white-painted terracotta pottery with bright blue-and-yellow brushstrokes. I hide behind a platter large and wide enough to cover my face.
We’re close enough to hear Cam’s voice. “Yeah, I gotta go, too. My phone is blowing up. My . . .friendis looking for me.”
Friend?!
I’m simultaneously devastated for Ricky and angry enough to go full Coven Lemon on him. Not only is he cheating on Ricky, but he’s also doing so as an all-expenses-paid guest at Ricky’s sister’s wedding. Ricky doesn’t deserve this.
I’m in a blind rage, and all Topher’s pleading leaves my head. As I dash out from behind the decorative platter shielding me from view and round the corner, I grab on to the fabric of his shirt.
Or, rather, Ithinkit’s his shirt.
“You mothafucka—” the New York in me jumps out.
“Excuse me?” a deep, southern voice says.
I wasn’t paying attention, so in fact, it’s not Cam at all. It’s All-American Beefcake looking like all the hot, straight wrestlers I went to school with, and if I weren’t so stressed I’d stop to ogle him.
“Sorry, I thought you were my friend.” I gulp, wave, and duck out fast. I have zero desire to find out if he can use his formidable weight class against me.
Threading through bodies down the narrow streets, I move in the direction of the Duomo until I spot the glitter on Cam’s back.
I struggle to keep track of him as the number of people on the streets grows by the second. Families milling in and out of souvenir shops, curious women in floppy hats perusing the windows of high-end jewelers, lines building in front of gelaterias.
Benny and Tyler bob and weave behind me, trying to keep up with me as we trail Cam’s gazelle-like legs and large strides.
He’s so carefree, swaying his hips like he didn’t just cheat onRicky. Granted, I have no idea if physical cheating occurred, but just the fact that he was openly flirting and called Ricky a “friend” means he at least emotionally cheated.
Cam turns down the alley toward Massimo Andreozzi’s.
We dash across the opening as fast as we can and start toward the Duomo.
“What happened?!” Benny shouts, sounding frazzled. “I haven’t run that fast in ages. I need to get back to the gym.”
Tyler eyes me curiously. “Do you think Cam really cheated on Ricky?”
The Piazza del Duomo is steps away. I make out the black-and-white-striped stone.
My hands are shaking. “I don’t know what else it could be, but I’m not saying anything unless I know for sure—” Before I can finish, a Vespa nearly sideswipes me, skidding around me.
