Page 78 of Last Letters to Ara
“It’s good they have you then, I guess.” Theo’s comment is ever so slightly disapproving, and Ryder’s jaw tics in response.
“Can you tell Connor I said ‘hey?’ That cunt never comes around anymore.”
Theo laughs and I cringe at the use of such a crude word. “I’ll tell him, man. Thanks again.”
“Have a good one, guys.” Ryder gives us a nod and makes his way back to the demanding line of customers.
I’ve gotten enough of myself back to appreciate the care that Theo has shown by coming here. He dropped whatever he was doing just to come to my rescue. This isn’t the first time, either. Every time I call or text him, he shows up. Every. Single. Time.
The truth of it hits me with the force of a cannon.
IlikeTheo.
One minute I’m gazing at Theo, trying to get a handle on my gooey grin, and the next I’m heading toward the ground at record speed for the second time tonight. Instead of the hard impact of a dirty floor, I’m saved by solid arms that still manage to soften the fall. A wave of nausea crests as I’m hoisted up, cradled against Theo’s dark green shirt, the only thing separating me from his bare chest.
Taking a deep inhale, I try to memorize the crisp scent I’ve come to crave. It goes straight to my head, acting like a truth serum.
“I like you,” I say, tracing little circles over his chest with my fingers.
Theo’s soft gasp tells me he’s very aware of my gentle touch. “Tell me again tomorrow when you are sober and I’ll do something about it.”
I wish I wasn’t so nauseous. I want those words to hit my core like they should. I want to feel the race of my heart and the heat he brings to my skin. Yet, all I can do is close my eyes and try not to throw up. The motion of walking is making it progressively worse. The bile starts to rise up and...oh.Oh no.
I want to warn him, but I’m afraid that if I open my mouth it won’t be words which shoot up. Tapping him furiously and pointing to the ground with as much alarm as possible, Theo gets the message and sets me down just in time for me to hurl my guts all over the parking lot.
Instead of backing away in disgust like I expect, like heshould, Theo gently wraps my loose knot around his hand to hold it away from my face. Another wave hits me, and Theo starts soothing circles over my back. After what feels like hours but is probably only a few minutes, the nausea begins to subside.
“You think you’re done for now?” he asks gently.
I nod my head, not knowing where to wipe my mouth. He scoops me up despite the vomit, and gets us to his car.
“My car.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get it tomorrow.” He shifts me so he’s supporting me with just one arm, opening the passenger door with the other, and maneuvers me into the passenger seat without a single bump to my head.
“You’re like a book boyfriend.”
“A what?”
“Like Rhysand, or as close to him as a mortal can get, no offense. Don’t feel inadequate or anything, he’s just in another league.”
“Who is Rhysand?”
“Or Thomas Cresswell, he’s human, so that’s more fair.”
“I don’t know who these people are.”
“You remind me of them.”
He sighs. “Okay, then.”
Theo clearly doesn’t understand that this is praise of the highest magnitude.
Once we’re on the road, and I think he won’t catch me, I let myself gawk at him. How does someone like him exist in real life? The longer I look at him, the more painful it gets. The tight, constricting pressure pushes harder and harder on my chest. I can’t tell whether I’m on the brink of a medical emergency, or if this is what it feels like to realize you’re falling.
I need to tell him.
Heneedsto know.
