Page 76 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
‘I can feel you staring,’ I say while tying the sarong.
‘I can see your goosebumps from here,’ he says gruffly. ‘Take this.’ He holds up his T-shirt between us and, when I don’t take it, he steps closer. I stay still, staring at him, so serious and brooding. So concerned about the temperature of my body. Suddenly, this is all very funny to me. I try to hold the laughter in, press my hand against my head to centre myself, but it’s useless.
‘What?’ he asks, annoyed when I continue laughing, still holding the shirt between us.
‘You’re offering me your shirt after giving me the “you’re not fine” speech?’ I say, bewildered.
‘I wasn’t trying to make a speech. But it’s clear that you’re not fine.’
‘Oh, thank you so much for that astute observation. How profound! No one’s fucking fine, Theo. That’s the human condition. News flash: you’re not fine! You need to back off. Don’t expect more from me than you’re willing to give.’
Theo steps towards me and this time I don’t step back. Instead, I lift my chin and look at him as he walks forward, not stopping until he’s standing right in front of me with the fabric of the shirt gathered by the collar.
‘What are you—’ I start, but Theo places the shirt over my head, momentarily blinding me before it falls around my neck. He doesn’t let go of the shirt but holds it by the collar.
‘You’re cold.’ He’s so close that I can smell the salt water on his skin, see the patterns of his curls already drying. ‘And you’re not fine. And I’m not fucking fine, sure.’ Even in the darkness, his eyes pierce through mine. He’s all tension and concern, and my throat goes dry as I’m about to say something, anything to keep him right here, to confess. Theo, how can I possibly be cold when you’ve swallowed the sun? Then a voice calls from down the beach and I blink the thought away.
‘Niente cazzo modo. Theo, sei tu?’
It takes me a moment to register that the voice isn’t Anika’s or anyone I know. There’s only a single streetlamp on the boardwalk and I squint, trying to make out the shape of the mystery girl. Short. Chin-length hair. Theo curses quietly when he realizes who it is and drops the shirt that hangs from my neck. For a split second, his eyes are wide, afraid. His mouth twitches a little, a nervous tic, and then I watch the fear completely drain from him, replaced by the usual cool calmness. Yet now it comes off as artificial, like a coating around himself to hide the cracks. My gaze remains on him, forgetting about the girl for a moment. How did he do that? Finding his emotions like a puzzle he needs to settle into the right groove.
One moment the world was ending for him. I saw it. The fire and brimstone might as well have burned through his eyes. But now, it’s as if he’s never known pain. He scratches the tattoo on his chest as we wait for her to come closer, and he looks almost bored.
‘Theo! What are the chances!’ She throws the towel hanging from her forearm on the sand and jumps into Theo’s arms, holding him tightly around the neck. He stays still at first, his whole body stiff and unresponsive before he eventually wraps his arms around her small frame, rubbing gently on her upper back. Should I leave? I glance around to see the string of cafe and restaurant lights behind us a few hundred feet away and consider stepping quietly away to let them reconnect.
‘What are you doing here?’ Theo asks as he sets her down. I try to not linger on his hands still wrapped around her waist but it’s the only thing I see.
‘I’m here for the weekend with some friends! We’re staying at Hotel Regina down the road,’ she replies happily, her black bob bouncing as she speaks.
‘Ah, not following me, are you?’ Theo jokes, and my eyebrows shoot up before I remember to control my face.
‘Don’t worry yourself. I’ve got plenty of pretty boys to distract me.’
‘Yeah, like who?’
‘The usual crew. Carmine, Jacobo. Samuel’s coming in later tonight.’
I stare down at my feet, digging them further into the cold sand, cementing myself in place to endure this. Am I being too sensitive? I think back to our conversation in Torino, how happy I was to have him alone for a few minutes. Proud that I spoke at all. Not stalking me, are you? I resent him stealing my line but am also ashamed by how much better it sounds coming from him. He’s playful, completely confident in his effect on her. I feel myself becoming too aware of my body, of how I breathe, that I’m wearing his shirt around my neck as I stand awkwardly next to them.
‘We’re all going out for drinks tonight – you two should join us.’
This makes me look up at her. Allowing myself to take her in, my stomach fills with dread and something like teenage angst. She’s absolutely beautiful. Delicate, obnoxiously feminine. Her hair seems immune to the unrelenting wind of the beach as it sits like a halo around her face.
I was never jealous of other people’s beauty before. But now I stare at her and feel only the absence of my own. The parts of me under-saturated and overly pronounced claw their way to the forefront of my mind. So much so that I almost miss Theo’s response.
‘Maggie’s pretty tired. I think she’s going to turn in for the night.’ He doesn’t look at me when he responds. I try to meet his eyes but he doesn’t budge. My face must reveal my surprise because mystery girl supplies a quick laugh. What the fuck just happened? He must like her. And then the world seems to tilt on its axis.
This is Chiara, the one he fucked. It makes too much sense. It never occurred to me that he was being fun and flirty with others and then coming back to me for a new challenge. Willing myself to stop overreacting, I play with the knot in my sarong, but the idea persists loudly in my head. He likes her. We never agreed to an exclusive you take my virginity and only make sexy eyes at me pact. This is fair game.
‘Yeah, swimming for twenty minutes is just so exhausting.’ My voice is dull. Theo still won’t look at me. Instead, he stares only at Chiara and her perfect hair, effectively excluding me from their conversation.
‘What time?’ he says. I chew on the inside of my mouth, thinking of anything to suppress the hot sting of tears threatening to surface.
She checks her watch. ‘Nine-ish? Maybe Mag can relax beforehand and meet us if you’re up to it? No pressure.’
She’s nice and pretty. This is all too much. I unbury my feet from the sand, blinking faster as the tears viciously try to spill.
‘Theo’s right,’ I hear myself say, and it surprises me how perfectly normal my voice sounds. Happy even. ‘I actually really am tired.’
