I’ve said it.
But only in my head.
Nineteen
I walk my bike half of the way home because I can’t get myself to stop sobbing, and that’s probably not considered safe riding.
I look at my surroundings, a Copenhagen blurred by tears, and wonder if this is where the dream ends. My chest is so tight I can barely breathe. I’ve messed it up, and I don’t see a way to fix the situation.
My family is filling my phone with notifications, as always, and I should be feeling in need of support, but I don’t want to talk to any of them.
In fact, I feel blessed for not being there, where I can’t avoid my mom’s scrutiny, my cousins’ indiscretion, and my whole family, friends, neighbors, and whoever else the gossip reaches, giving me opinions, judgment, and unwelcome guidance.
I feel oddly separated from everything related to the life I had in Brazil. Denmark is becoming my home. I’m more attached to it every day, despite my reservations regarding certain aspects of the culture. None of the people back home know what that’s like. None of them have ever been to another country.
They are perfectly fine there and will tell me I’ll be fine there and should just go home. None of them truly believed I’d make it here. They’re just waiting for me to come back and tell them, You were right. It wasn’t for me.
That will never happen though. If I do end up having to go back, I won’t be fine. I would have failed. I would have lost not only the life I have here but the life I could have had.
A life that is no longer just a magazine photo collage or a mental picture formed after an enticing conversation—but an image so vivid and full of sounds, tastes, and colors it will follow me for the rest of my days.
When I enter the apartment, I’m still not done crying. My plan is to hide in my room for the rest of the evening with my phone turned off. I come across Erik in the hallway, however. As soon as he asks me, “What’s wrong?” I hug him around the waist and bury my head in his chest.
“What’s happening, Sol?” He comforts me, pressing me tight and caressing my back as I shed tears.
I say I went out with a guy I met on Cinder when he was away, and that the guy happened to be Thomas Hansen, a friend of Martin’s, and now Martin knows we’re not together and is threatening to tell Lars if I don’t.
I’m not sure Erik can grasp the whole emotional disturbance inside me. While my family doesn’t know what it means to live in Denmark, Erik doesn’t know what it’s like to live in Brazil. I might have told him what I’m afraid to get back to, but he won’t feel it in his bones, even if I go into more detail.
Besides, he also doesn’t know what I feel for him or how my future at Scorpio means everything regarding us.
I want to make sure he doesn’t think I’m crying over stupid Thomas Hansen, so I say, “I don’t care about the idiot I went out with. But Martin might ruin everything for me at Scorpio now, and he is just so...obnoxious.”
I cry a bit more on Erik’s chest, shaking with my sobs, and my body can’t ignore how close to his heart I am, even when I’m so desolate.
“Yes, he is obnoxious,” Erik sympathizes, one of his hands running up and down my back, making me less sad but also shakier. “We won’t let him get to you, okay? He’ll ruin nothing for you.”
I snort, drying a tear. Erik’s chest is so warm and comforting... I don’t want to ever leave this spot.
“Chiara knows too...”
Erik breaks the embrace to look at me, and I dry the rest of my tears with my sleeve. My face must be all red and swollen, and I don’t want Erik to see me in this state, but I also can’t avoid his eyes.
“We talked in the bathroom today,” I tell him before he asks how Chiara found out. “She and Anika noticed we weren’t a couple...” I look down, swallowing hard. “And by the way, she and Anika broke up.”
“No, really?” He reacts just like I did, disappointed to hear it.
“Anika is moving to Stockholm. She got her dream job there.”
“That’s nice for her. And they couldn’t keep it long distance?”
I shake my head, sniffing. “Chiara thinks I should tell Lars...and now Martin is threatening me. I don’t see a way out of this.”
Team Sol & Storm will be over—the realization hits me like a punch in the gut. There’ll be no more fake dating. No more excuses to spend time with Erik, touching him, kissing him...
I won’t get the promotion. My breath gets stuck in my throat, and a new tear rolls slowly down my cheek.
And I’ll most likely be fired for dishonesty—the thought slaps me in the face, leaving me red with shame.
I’ll be unemployed. Broke. Homeless. Visa-less. And will have no choice but to go back to Brazil.
“Don’t panic yet, okay?” Erik sees I’m hyperventilating. “Sol, look at me.” He takes my face in his hands and lifts it so I can meet his eyes. They are so blue, so beautiful, so sincere...
“Martin is one of those aggressive little dogs that barks loud but never bites.”
I laugh at his metaphor. “He looks a little like a Chihuahua.”
“Yeah, he does.” Erik laughs with me, and for a second, my tears stop falling. “Lars trusts me, and he trusts you too.”
“That’s precisely why it will be so bad when he finds out...”
“It won’t, because he will not find out.” Erik sounds confident, which calms me. The warmth of his hands on my face also helps. “Martin could tell Lars the truth, but then he’d have to hope Lars would believe him. If we continue to be a couple, Lars will believe us.” Erik looks intensely at me, his hands still framing my face. I hold my breath. “We are his favorites, not Martin. If Martin goes down that road and persists, Lars will think he’s a desperate man trying all sorts of tricks to beat the competition.” He takes his hands off my cheeks, but I still feel the heat of his fingers.
“Martin would go down that road though, wouldn’t he?” I bite my lip again.
“No, he’s bluffing, of course. He’s not that stupid. He knows all this, and that’s why he hopes he can make you confess.”
Erik sees I’m still uncertain and takes one tiny step closer, his body almost meeting mine. I shiver.
