Page 82 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
We stare at each other and, within seconds, both of us erupt in laughter.
‘Stop laughing!’ she says through her giggles. ‘I thought you would be an easy lay!’
‘God, Magdalen,’ I close my eyes and groan miserably. ‘If you want me to fuck you, you can’t say “lay” again. Grossly unattractive.’ My heartbeat slows, happy to have these small moments. She gasps, shoving me playfully on the chest, and it’s easy to forget what’s waiting back in Chivasso when it’s this quiet, just the sound of her laugh and the rose bushes gently tapping against the window. I say a quick prayer.
‘You want to talk about unattractive? Your entire face is soaked in blood.’
Touching my nose, I cringe slightly at the blood caked under my nostrils and am genuinely terrified to look in a mirror. ‘Point taken. Not going to ask me more about this?’
‘Betting my life and Anika’s George Michael CD that it was my brother.’
‘How did you—’
Magdalen sighs and just reaches out her hand for me to take.
‘How did you know?’
‘The brooding bromance at the beach? The no talking? It was bound to happen sooner or later. Dante’s experimenting with his new-found masculinity. Come,’ she adjusts the blanket around herself and starts walking towards the stairs, looking back at me with a shy smile.
‘Already did.’
She gapes. ‘Grossly unattractive.’ She shakes her head disapprovingly, but her eyes are warm. A vibrant green just under the glow of a single lamp. I’m scared by how easy it is to want to follow her. ‘It’s my turn to clean you up, lover boy.’
43
MAGDALEN
‘By the way,’ I go to ask while walking along the upstairs hallway towards the bathroom, with Theo following close behind, ‘did you happen to go through my luggage?’ I hug the blanket tighter around me, trying to suppress the residual guilt I have about forgiving him. Thinking about telling my Emily what he’s done, what he’s said to me, and still walking with him, makes me slightly queasy. I should fight harder, forgive less. But I think of him bent underneath me, whispering desperately.
I look for you around every corner, hoping for just a glimpse of you so that I can endure the rest of my day.
My heart aches. No one has ever said anything like that to me before.
I open the bathroom door and stand against it, ushering him in. But he stops in front of me, smiling wickedly. ‘I may have rearranged it for practical purposes.’
‘Of course. The thong is a practical summer staple.’
‘I thought so.’ His hands reach to touch me but I see him hesitate, asking me with his eyes if it’s okay. I nod shyly, wondering if he knows how much I appreciate the consent, the relief of knowing that it’s me who decides. I never knew I needed it until someone asked.
‘But only for me.’ His hands are warm against my neck as his thumbs drift lazily across my cheekbones; it’s so natural to be undone around Theo that I wonder if this is what it’s like for other people all the time. I used to tense at the idea of someone seeing me when I wasn’t prepared. Even in class, I’d think about how I looked while thinking. I’d wonder what I looked like from the side, writing notes across the page. Sometimes I’d think so hard about others looking at me that I’d end up not writing at all and eventually spend the night relearning the lesson once I got back to our flat. But it’s all different with him. It’s addictive to be brave.
Theo leans closer, towering over me in the bathroom doorway, his shoulders looking obnoxiously broad as he holds me in his hands.
My throat is dry as I try to speak when he consumes the space around me so intensely.
‘Oh. Should I call Roberto and tell him not to come?’
Theo tsks, rubbing the sensitive skin behind my ear so that my neck tilts up to face him, and my grip on the blanket falters.
‘Mhm, only if you want me not to drown him in the ocean.’ His thumb catches my bottom lip, and he stares at my mouth, looking so desperate that my heart flips.
Just as he begins to bend his head to kiss me, I remember his bloody nose and squeal. ‘You’re covered in blood!’
‘What?’ He blinks, still staring at my lips.
‘Your face! It’s disgusting. Let’s save the ravishing for when you don’t look like a bloodthirsty Jacobite.’
He chuckles softly but settles for a kiss on my forehead. ‘Okay, dottoressa,’ he murmurs into my skin, lips lingering on me. ‘Clean me up.’
