Page 51 of Tilly in Technicolor
I nod, remembering every detail of the exquisite painting. The fractured wholeness Dalí had created. The grace of the colors. The tenderness of his wife’s face. The way it all nearly moved Mãe to tears.
“Then do you remember how Mum looked at Mãe looking at that painting?”
I nod again, trying to swallow through my dry throat. Mum had looked at Mãe like Mãe was the sun and Mum couldn’t believe she had the privilege to bask in her warmth. It was one of many variations of loving looks I’ve seen on both their faces during my life. It’s overwhelming to imagine feeling so much you look at someone like that.
“That’show you look at Tilly,” Cubby says, as if she hasn’t just dropped an atomic emotional bomb on my lap. Lovely sister. “It’s obvious you both fancy each other,” she adds.
“You’ve made your assumptions on it quite obvious, thanks,” I say tersely, shoving more pizza in my mouth. “But you’re, not so shockingly, wrong. Our relationship extends to nothing further than business acquaintances.”
“That right? So I take it that it was purely for business that you were acquainting yourself with her mouth when I walked in?”
“I was not!” I nearly shout in outrage, part of which is due to the fact that that’s exactly what I wastryingto do before she so rudely interrupted us. But I’m not about to tell Cubby that.
Cubby’s smile turns into something softer, more serious. “It’s okay to like her, Ollie. You deserve to like someone. And to have someone like you back.”
I shake my head, shoving another bite of pizza into my mouth. “Grenadine!” I say through my bite. It’s our safe word. The one we established with Dr. Shakil years ago for when conversations get to be too much. Too intense. Too hard for me to process in real time.
Cubby leans back, respecting the boundary. That’s one of the reasons she’s the best sister in the world: she’ll push me more than anyone, but acknowledge the moment I ask for a break.
And I’d do the same for her. If she ever needed a break from a conversation, that is. But I throw out one random question about her shithead boyfriend, Connor, and she’s off like a racehorse with complaints and examples of what a total dick he is.
I’m listening to Cubby, I swear I am, but half of my brain keeps circling back to our previous conversation.
I’m not having sex. Certainly not with Tilly.
… Not that I don’twantto. Hell, the idea has popped into my head way more times than I think would be socially acceptable to admit. It’s… well… It seems so far out of the realm of possibility that Tilly would want that with me. Would feel… whatever this… thisthingis I feel toward her.
But that doesn’t mean I won’t have sex one day. Hopefully. Oh God, seriously, hopefully.
There’s a small break in conversation as Cubby takes another sip of her wine.
“How does one, theoretically, buy condoms?” I ask, staring at my plate.
She nearly spits out her wine then cackles so loudly I consider walking away from the table.
“Okay,” I say, dabbing at the spots of sprayed merlot that hit me on the cheek, “forget I asked.”
“Never,” Cubby says, giving me that evil grin of hers. “One,theoretically, walks into the pharmacy, struts to the appropriate aisle, peruses lubricated options ribbed for everyone’s pleasure, takes them to the till, pulls out one’s money—not from a hideous belted travel wallet, mind you—pays for said condoms, and leaves the store with them.”
I nod, wondering if she’d give me hell if I pulled out my phone to jot this down in the notes app.
“Then one goes to one’s partner, gets glorious consent, and has protected sex like bunnies in heat, then repeats the process as needed.”
“Bunnies don’t go into heat,” I say, my entire face burning.
“Yes, they do. All mammals do. It’s biology.”
“Rabbits have an estrus cycle, not a menstrual cycle.”
“Oh my God, grenadine! Grenadine!” Cubby cries, slapping her hands over her ears.
“Right. Because the discussion of rabbits’ follicular development is so much more inappropriate than you telling me to buy condoms,” I say, frowning at her.
“Respect the safe word or I’m calling Dr. Shakil.” Cubby pauses, then points at me. “And Mums.”
With the threat of all threats hanging over my head, I take the last bite of my pizza and flag down the bill.
Chapter 25Fanfiction Addiction
