Page 81 of Last Letters to Ara
“Are you sure you still want to be friends with me after last night?”
“Are you kidding? I would be an idiot not to stick around until I get to cash in on the massively torturous favor you now owe me,” he says with a wink.
“Whether it’s cleaning toilets or taking you to the doctor while you’re having explosive diarrhea, I’m yours.”
“I’m obviously kidding.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I liked being the one you called, the one to help you.”
“You’re always that person,” I say quietly, low enough I’m not sure if he even heard it.
He sits up, eyes searching mine.
It’s not lost on me that I’m in bed with Theo, in only my bra and underwear, with him looking at me as if I didn’t spend the entire night spilling my guts over his expensive belongings. His stormy green eyes bore into mine, the tension building with every second that passes, as if he’s waiting for something, something that will put him into motion.
Adrenaline fills my veins, heart pounding in anticipation. The sensation is mirrored in Theo, as his chest begins rising and falling. His entire being seems to be urging me...begging me tosaysomething.
I just don’t know what.
When he sees the confusion pass over my features, Theo clears his throat and looks away. “You can have a shower if you’d like. Your clothes are clean and just over there, Connor must have put them in the dryer. Towels are in the bathroom closet.”
It’s not a dismissal, but there is something I’m missing, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m forgetting something important. I take a moment, racking my migraine filled brain, trying to figure out what it is. I look back to Theo, hoping the sight of him will stir up a memory while willing myself to remember.
But I come up empty again.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Theo says as he sits up and turns his back to me.
He spent the entire night caring for me, while I was in my strawberry underwear, but gives me the courtesy now of turning around as if he hasn’t seen everything already.
I can’t fathom how someone with his upbringing can be so incredible. It’s all him, too, having a horrible example growing up and being treated worse than any human being deserves. He could have allowed domestic violence and loss to shape him in destructive ways, but he just kept choosing to be a good person instead.
A feeling bubbles up in my heart, shooting all the way down my stomach and through to my toes. It’s followed by four little words that jump up, raging at me to let them escape, to use my hands to express them physically.
It takes every amount of willpower I have to resist their onslaught. I don’t know where they’ve come from, but they’ve risen with a vengeance.
What if Theo doesn’t feel the same way? What if we end up so happy together for fate to viscously rip it away from us to no fault of our own? The truth is, the kind of pain I’ve only known after losing the person closest to me is still too raw to risk that kind of hurt again.
It would break me.
So, I close the bathroom door behind me as I push the words down, down, down, down until they’re just a faint whisper in the back of my mind.
I like you, Theo.
Present - Ara
THERE IS NOTHINGsexier than a guy having a spotless bathroom accompanied by products for a complete hair routine and skin care regimen. None of that 3-in-1 bullshit that Blake used to use. I mean, who in their right mind would use the same product for shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and in Blake’s case, also face wash. My skin hurts just thinking about it.
I grab one of the fluffy towels from Theo’s bathroom closet after exiting the shower.
Shut the front door.
How is this towel so warm?
I take a better look inside the closet, and realize the shelves are not just shelves, but warming plates. That is some rich people shit that I candefinitelyget behind. Installing this magical appliance is the sole acceptable thing Bill Carter has contributed to this world since having Theo.
As I get dressed, I have to pretend that my undergarments have also been washed, so I can get them back on without having a mental breakdown over the lack of hygiene. I towel dry my hair as much as I possibly can, but it’s probably going to look like I’ve been stranded on a jungle-covered island despite my best efforts.
Whatever. Theo’s already seen me mostly naked and puking on myself. What’s a little rat’s nest to round out the entire picture?
I emerge from the bathroom a few minutes later to a glass of water and Advil capsule on the little table next to where my clothes had been sitting. I graciously chug the entire glass and swallow the Advil, praying that it helps with the slammer occurring in my head. Hangovers willnotbe going to the top of my list of experiences. I’m talking zero stars on Yelp.
