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“Not sure why I’m being paid if I don’t.” I grab Theo’s hand and lead him to the circulation desk.
Now that the buzz of book club night is over, I’m left with a peculiar feeling. Theo is here, in my place of work, talking with my best friend and boss like it’s the most casual thing in the world. Erica signed him up for a library card for fuck’s sake. A couple of hours ago, I thought we were over. What kind of upside-down world are we living in?
This is breaking all sorts of boundaries, but I get the feeling he doesn’t mind so much this time. Not now that they’re my boundaries.
When I’ve got him set up in our system and he’s equipped with a bright purple library card, I walk him out to the parking lot. We stop under a streetlamp, the light casting him in a golden halo. Now that the chaos has died down, I remember why he came here in the first place. Can we talk?
I’m not mad at him anymore, only at myself for not seeing this coming. But more than that, I’m crushed. So much more than I thought I’d be to let him go so soon.
“Are you okay?” he asks, eyes creased with concern.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat, deciding to get this over with as quickly as possible. “What did you want to talk about?” His brows furrow. “You texted earlier… asking if we could talk?”
“Oh,” he says, something shifting in his expression as he remembers. “Right. I… wanted to apologize for not getting back to you sooner. It wasn’t cool of me to keep you hanging for so long. I just had a lot on my mind.”
“We can get out of dinner,” I blurt, because that’s what started all this trouble to begin with. If that’s all that’s holding him back from continuing our arrangement, maybe we can go back to the way things were between us. “I’ll tell Alice I got sick, and we’ll never reschedule. It’ll be fine.”
“No.” He shakes his head, though his expression looks pained. As if getting out the one word is harder than it should be. “Thank you, but I’ll be okay. I promise.”
“Are you sure?” Something isn’t sitting right with me. Why avoid me for ten days if he’s not backing out of dinner? Why is he giving in so easily after nearly two weeks of nothing?
He nods, kissing my forehead. “I’m sure. I can’t keep running away from them forever.”
“You could’ve talked to me.” It shouldn’t hurt so much that he felt like he couldn’t. Not when I’ve kept my own secrets from him, too. I stare down at the pavement, arms crossed over my chest. “What were you thinking about?” When he doesn’t answer, I rephrase. “Who is it you’re more worried about? Alice or Ben?”
“Both.” He heaves a sigh. “But if I had to pick… Ben.” I’m about to follow up with one of the many questions dancing around my head, but before I can, he adds, “Don’t worry about me. I didn’t mean to leave you out of the blue like that, but I realized that if I’m ever going to move on, I have to accept that this is happening.” His chest falls as he lets out a breath. “They’re getting married. I should congratulate them face-to-face, at least once.”
I nod, but I don’t say anything more.
“I won’t do that to you again.” His hand cups my cheek when I look up at him. “Disappear without a trace. You deserve better than that.”
The back of my throat clogs up with some emotion I’m too afraid to name. I clear it and nod, hoping he can’t sense how much that means to me. Even if a part of me doesn’t believe him.
Seventeen
A purple jumpsuit hugs my curves in a way I wish every article of clothing I own would, the ruffled sleeves falling over my shoulders and exposing much more of my arms than I’m used to. The material is light and breathable against my skin, which is all I ask for of any fabric. However, there’s no hiding my broadly set shoulders or the thickness of my upper arms, but for the first time in years, I don’t care.
My relationship with my body varies daily. There’s what I begrudgingly accept, what I thank God for blessing me with, and what I wish enough glaring could make go away. But I can’t pick and choose which parts of myself are worthy and which aren’t, not the way other people feel like they can when they comment on my body. And why should I? Why should I be expected to carry the weight of other people’s disdain for the body I live in?
On our most recent trip to La Cantera mall, Angela convinced me to buy the jumpsuit because she thought I looked like an Instagram model in it. I didn’t buy it because I believed her, but because I’m tired of punishing myself for all the ways my body will never be perfect.
Now I’m glad to have finally gotten over myself. In addition to my arms, much of my back is exposed, showing an expanse of golden-brown skin. The neckline dips into a heart shape between my cleavage—high enough to leave most to the imagination, but just low enough to inspire some illicit daydreams. My eyes are lined with a precisely drawn, dramatic wing courtesy of a fine-tipped pen. My lips are painted bright red, a second pop of color that looks spectacular against the shade of purple. My hair is down and swept over one shoulder in a side part. Even I can’t deny how amazing I look tonight.
Theo is surprisingly punctual, considering this double date is the last place he wants to be. I’ve just finished getting ready—slipping my feet into a pair of low, chunky heels that are easy to walk in—when the doorbell rings. Theo crowds the doorway in a simple white button-down tucked into navy dress pants. When I step aside to let him in, he doesn’t move an inch except for his eyes. They scan me from head to toe, lingering in places that make my entire body shiver. I resist the urge to cover myself with my arms, letting him look his fill.
“Enjoying the view?” My voice comes out more low and breathy than the wry amusement I was going for. His eyes snap up to mine, more black pupil than blue iris.
“You always look good, but fuck, Marcela.” He shakes his head as if to clear it, and I’m flooded with a rush of confidence from having affected him this way. I don’t need him to tell me what I already know, but damn if that doesn’t stop his praise from sinking into my veins anyway. His hands wrap around my waist, pulling me into him. “You might’ve just made this dinner worth going to.”
“That so?” My hands fist in his shirt, tugging him in for a kiss that will definitely ruin my lipstick. I revel in the feel of him, in the scratchy stubble of his cheeks against mine, in the warmth of his mouth, in the addicting taste of him. Suddenly, as desire pools low in my belly, I wish we didn’t have to leave the apartment. We pull away too soon, both of us breathing hard.
“We should probably go, before we’re tempted to cancel for a very different reason,” I tell him. My eyes catch on his red-smeared mouth, and I cover mine with a hand. “But we should clean up first.”
“I’ve never been allowed to kiss off red lipstick before.” Theo’s warm breath is in my ear, one hand closing over mine so his other can trace the outline of my lips. His mouth turns up into a smug grin, rimmed a devilish red.
After reapplying my lipstick and handing Theo a makeup wipe to clean his mouth with, we settle into his car ten minutes after we should’ve been on our way. Ben and Alice are already seated by the time we arrive, menus and water glasses placed in front of them.
“Sorry we’re late,” Theo says, pulling out a chair for me. My heart melts at the simple gesture, even if he’s just being polite. “Guess the time got ahead of us.”
