Page 23 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
‘Theo,’ she warns, and I feel giddy when she says my name.
‘Maggie,’ I whisper back, enjoying this frustrated side of her. ‘I’ve got all day. I’m more than happy to follow you around if that’s what you want.’
‘That is most certainly not what I want.’
‘Okay, so tell me where you’re going and I’ll be out of your pretty hair.’
Magdalen stumbles a little, cheeks burning as she clears her throat and whips her head towards me again.
‘Alright, fine. But just because I’m telling you doesn’t mean I want a ride. You’re just annoying.’
‘Yeah, I know, I’m just curious.’ I tap my finger on the gear shift.
‘I’m going to the train station.’
My jaw almost drops. That’s a three-kilometre walk along the highway. If her bruises are this bad, I can’t even imagine the shape of her back. Fucking hell, how is this girl even standing up right now? Her mother should have tied her to the bed.
‘Magdalen—’
‘What did we talk about?’
‘Get in the car,’ I push and then cringe at my tone. There’s no way she’ll listen if I force her. I try to soften my approach. ‘Please? I’m headed in that direction anyway,’ I add, hoping this will help. Not understanding why I need to have her near me. Picturing her walking along the highway in pain sends a flicker of concern down my spine. There’s no way I’m leaving without her.
She sighs again, looking back up the hill and then down again, as if judging whether it’s worth the fight I’m willing to have.
‘Fine. Jesus, you’re worse than Jo.’ As she walks around the front of the car to get into the passenger seat, I find myself mumbling.
‘Just for you, Magdalen. I’m only this bad for you.’
15
MAGDALEN
The car ride is silent and uncomfortable as we descend the craggy hill to the train station. I don’t know whether to make a comment about the potholes that ruin the road. I think about how much my cheeks jiggle from the impact.
‘Thank god we’re not holding eggs!’ I would say. But then I realize how awkward that would be, so I stay silent instead. What do you even say to a shit joke like that?
Theo makes no motion to say anything and I’m confused as to why he’d make such a big deal about giving me a ride if he had no intention of speaking to me. Not that he appears to be uncomfortable with the silence. I shift in my seat, sneaking a glance at him without moving my neck so he doesn’t notice. A bruise has formed across his right cheekbone, and I suck in a breath. So he goes back to the club to avenge my ability to get hurt by just standing? My mind races and my lips are moving before I know I’m speaking.
‘Why’d you go back there?’
He doesn’t even flinch at my voice; his profile remains perfectly calm and focused on the road ahead. Except his jaw clenches, just slightly.
‘I wasn’t trying to defend your honour.’
‘That’s good to know. You just punched yourself, then?’
He stays silent for a moment and then releases a breath, relaxing further into the car seat.
‘How the fuck was I supposed to just let him get away with it? You were just getting a drink and then suddenly you’re pinned down by a glass table and no one gave a shit.’ His voice fills the space between us, his chest moving rapidly.
‘Well, you didn’t need to do that,’ I mumble, crossing my arms in front of me in pathetic defiance. ‘But thank you. No one’s ever gotten punched for me.’
‘Well, get used to it. This type of shit doesn’t run when I’m around.’
My cheeks burn at his insinuation that he’ll have to get hurt for me again and the words spill out.
‘Trust me, you won’t ever have to do anything for me again. I swear.’
