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“What were you and Ben talking about?” There’s a hesitant quality to his voice. “It sounded like you guys were fighting. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, we were fighting,” I admit, ignoring the last question and hunching lower in my seat with a grumble. “Just Ben on his overprotective bullshit again. Nothing I can’t handle.”
The setting sun has reached the end of the horizon, erupting in the sky with a burst of color. Pink and orange and lilac. Darkness will cover us in no time, but until then, I keep my eyes trained out the passenger window so Theo can’t read anything from my face.
“Overprotective?” When I don’t say anything, he adds, “Was this about me again?”
I let out a long sigh. Theo has been nothing but honest with me so far. I may not be willing to tell him about my feelings for his brother, but the least I can do is be honest with him about everything else, right? My mind turns over for the right words. Theo doesn’t say anything else as he waits.
Finally, I turn my head back to face him. The corners of his eyes are creased in concern as his glance darts away from the windshield to look at me. Then they turn back. I’m not sure what he caught in my expression, but whatever it was is enough for him to reach out and clasp my knee. The warmth of his hand seeps through the fabric, his touch solid and grounding. I take a breath and prepare to tell him half the truth.
“This isn’t the first time Ben’s gotten involved in a relationship of mine,” I say. “Granted, he thinks we’re more serious than we are, but still.”
“Hmm.” Theo’s eyes stay trained out the windshield, but they narrow the slightest bit. I’m scared to ask what he’s thinking, but instead he asks for clarification. “And by ‘gotten involved,’ you mean…?”
“I mean, he gives his opinion freely. No guy I’ve ever dated was good enough for me, according to him. Which I guess means you’re the worst I could do.” I try out a light laugh, but Theo doesn’t so much as crack a grin. If anything, his mouth sets into a grim line. I don’t like the look of it whatsoever.
“Hey, are you getting hungry?” I ask mostly to change the subject, but also because my stomach grumbles so loud there’s no doubt he also heard it.
“We can stop somewhere in town.” We’re quiet for a moment, and I start to think maybe we’ve dropped the Ben subject entirely. I breathe a sigh of relief to myself. I’m about to ask if I can turn on the radio when he says, “So, did he give you any reason in particular?” His eyes dart back to me, something unreadable in his expression. “Why you shouldn’t date me?”
“Um…” I rack my mind for something concrete but come up short. “Just the same thing Alice said, that you have a reputation for breaking hearts.” Which reminds me of something else she said that night at the bar. “Is it true you’ve never been in a relationship?”
His cheeks redden slightly as he looks back out the windshield. When he finally answers, he sounds exhausted. “Yes. But not for a lack of trying.”
“Really?” Alice and Ben make him sound like a lady killer because of the way he goes through women.
“I’ve tried all the sites,” he says. “Tinder, Bumble, et cetera. It’s not that there was anything wrong with any of the women, but”—his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow—“I kept comparing how I felt about them to how I feel about Alice. Believe me, I know how unfair that is. No one had a chance of measuring up to her because I never gave them the chance to.”
Suddenly, I’ve lost my appetite. My stomach flips so hard, I can almost taste vomit at the back of my throat. I swallow hard, not liking the sinking sensation that makes dread crawl down my back. While in some ways we’re complete opposites, in others we might as well be the same person.
What makes a real relationship? I’ve been in two short relationships following Ben, but he’s the only man I’ve ever loved. Even though I hesitate to call what we had a relationship, there was a time when he was it for me. I didn’t need anyone else. But as the years passed and his relationship with Alice got more serious, it feels wrong to call what I feel for him “love.” It’s tainting what should be a pure and honest emotion into something messy and awful. Something unspeakable.
“Not that I ever should’ve been comparing them in the first place, but old habits and all that,” Theo finishes.
He’s always more honest than I expect him to be. More honest than I’ve been with him so far.
“You’ve known her your whole life. I can see how that habit would be hard to break.”
“Yeah.” He shakes his head. “Now, how ’bout we quit turning the conversation back to me for a change?” He smiles wryly. I only realize my mouth is hanging open when he pokes my cheek. “I know exactly what you’re doing, Marcela. You really don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”
My face heats. We’re under the cover of semi-darkness now, purple clouds and indigo sky. But if I can still make out the stubble on his cheeks from the headlights of oncoming cars, I’m sure he can see my pink face perfectly. His
thumb brushes one flushed cheek, the rest of his fingers curling beneath my chin. My body reacts of its own accord, breath coming in short pants, thighs clenching.
No one’s ever noticed me enough to realize I hate talking about myself. I don’t know what it means that Theo does, or why my heart stutters and stops in my chest.
“I guess not,” I tell him, biting down on my lip. “Ask me whatever you want.”
The statement surprises me, but I find I’m not scared at the prospect of answering any of his questions truthfully. His hand reaches for mine, intertwining our fingers and making goosebumps rise on my skin from the contact. He sets the car on cruise control but keeps one hand on the wheel. Then he turns his head and meets my eyes. I turn my body slightly to the left to better face him.
“Okay.” He nods idly, but his tone doesn’t fool me for a second. “How often does my brother insert himself into your love life?” There’s no lead-up to this question, making me believe it’s something that’s been on his mind for a while.
I groan into the leather seat, but Theo just laughs. “Quite a bit.” My words are clipped, but that doesn’t stop Theo from asking more intrusive questions.
“And you let him?”
“He’s one of my closest friends. It wouldn’t be any different from Angela telling me what she thinks of the guys I’m dating.” Though to be fair, Angela’s never been quite as judgmental about any of them as much as Ben.
