Page 48 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
‘You’re a pussy, mate.’ He says the last word mockingly. Giving my shoulders a final push, he stands beside the bar stool I sit on. ‘But I’ll see you tomorrow, right?’
In the darkness, his glowing face reminds me of one of the masks hanging up at the museum, used to scare off demons during intense prayer sessions.
‘Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow, Dante.’
He gives me one last look, and in the dark shadows of the bar I see he’s frowning. There’s a ring of sweat around the glass of my beer, and I trace my finger through it, drawing a sad face in the wood.
‘Daddy issues,’ I try to joke, but the truth hangs in the air between us. Taking a shaky breath, I try to give him an encouraging smile, but the muscles in my jaw are so tight I’m afraid my whole face will break. He nods, not dwelling on it, and whistles loudly so Anika’s head chirps.
‘He coming?’ she yells.
‘No, not tonight.’ Dante glances at me before returning his gaze to Magdalen.
‘We’ll get you one of these days.’ Anika bounces up and down, holding the cue high above her head.
Meanwhile, Magdalen stares at him expectantly. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me if I want any?’ She tilts her head, one hand leaning on the cue for support.
‘No, I actually wasn’t at all.’ Dante stands tall, and I snort with surprise at his sudden protectiveness.
‘Just so you know, Dante, if I wanted to, I could totally smoke it up with you guys. But it just so happens that I’m not in the mood, so I’m not arguing my rights.’
‘Yeah, whatever, Maggie. But even if you were in the mood, you still wouldn’t be allowed.’
Magdalen rolls her eyes and throws up her middle finger. Dante blows her a kiss and looks back at me. ‘You two okay to get home?’ There’s an edge to his voice – a test to see if his earlier suspicions will reveal themselves in how I answer.
‘Take care of Anika.’ Pulling him in, I slap him on the shoulder, a silent understanding that whatever happens, we are both big brothers first.
‘Always, brother.’
27
MAGDALEN
‘Bye, my little bitch.’
Anika kisses me sloppily on the cheek and smacks my ass before skipping off to Dante. Even by just the posture of her back, I can tell she’s happiest when walking towards him. As if he’s pulling her forward, her feet settle in the footsteps he leaves behind. Thinking back on our friendship, I hope my awkwardness with intimacy didn’t stop them getting together. How beautiful it would be if she was my sister in more than one way. One day I’ll ask her.
Sighing, I place the cue back in the wall mount. I’m secretly happy to end the game early, as my lack of coordination was appalling. The bar is warm, and I take a moment to stretch my hands above my head, feeling the happy buzz of three beers trickle from my fingertips to the soles of my feet. I feel good. Almost carefree. Wanting a reason to smile, I do a little twirl when a hand catches me, finger poking me underneath my ribs, and I gasp. Spinning, Theo, arms crossed in front of him, frowns at me.
‘Okay, silly girl, it’s time to get you home.’
The beers speak before I can, the eager smile I’d pocketed bursting free, and I laugh openly at Theo poking me to get my attention.
‘You poked me!’ I say through my giggles.
‘Would you prefer I tickled you?’
‘No!’ I shriek, taking a few steps back until the upper part of my thighs hits the cool wood of the pool table. Something shifts in Theo’s gaze as he looks at me leaning against the table. His eyes lazily drift to my mouth, then slowly, deliberately, trail down to where my pink dress stops at my thighs.
‘I’ve been told I’m very good with my hands,’ he says roughly, walking towards me with the stealth of a predator. Slowly. ‘When it comes to tickling, of course.’ His hands are in his trouser pockets, an unfazed demeanour. But beneath the layer of fabric, I see his fingers dig into his legs. He’s holding back.
My breath catches in my throat. Fear and something else, something unfamiliar, makes me shudder at the deepness of his voice. My body feels warm and sensitive as I imagine what Theo’s hands on my skin would feel like. Again. How his palms would brush against my ribcage, strong fingers gripping my hips until I’m sitting on the table.
‘Mhm.’ I nod my head, looking up at him. ‘Whoever told you that was being generous.’
He’s so close to me that I can smell the clean cotton of his shirt. Can smell how the wind dried it on the clothesline. How his skin seems to hold the sunshine even in the dark lighting of the bar. I’m completely overwhelmed by him.
‘My sincerest apologies.’ His knee brushes against my own, and my cheeks flood with warmth.
