Page 30 of Win You Over
“Hey,” I say softly, then very slowly pull his hands away from his face, while keeping them in mine. His eyes are shining with unshed tears, his lips pinched and his jaw clenched in frustration. Holden opens his mouth, but then closes it again and shakes his head.
Looking around the kitchen, I spot a notepad – one of those magnetic shopping lists – on the fridge and a green fountain pen next to my dad’s open laptop. Letting go of one of Holden’s hands, I drag him along with me until I have both items, then push them into his free hand.
It takes him a moment to understand and when he does, he lets go of me, wipes a hand over his eyes, and then starts writing.
I know I lost the bet, but I don’t think I’ll be very good at this. Your sister probably already thinks there’s something wrong with me. She’s not going to want me at her wedding.
“Bullshit,” I say with a little more force than necessary. “Firstly, there’s nothing wrong with you. So you don’t talk much, so what? Some people talk far too much – you’ve met my dad. And others say really stupid things and some, like me, say really interesting things, all the time, that should totally be listened to and admired.” That gets a crooked grin out of him.
You know I don’t choose not to talk?I watch the pen move over the paper as he continues to write.Sometimes I want to, but physically can't. Especially not when I’m around new people or big groups.
Holden presses the pen to the paper with force enough to tear it, his frustration bleeding from him through the ink and onto the page.
I want to thank your mom for the meal, and tell your dad finding out that you race remote controlled cars is the highlight of my week. I just can’t. I think maybe it’s better if you take someone else. Someone normal.
Something about those final two words rubs me the wrong way and I take the paper and scrunch it into a ball.
“There is no absolute definition of what ‘normal’ is, Holden. You’re perfect just the way you are. I promise, no one in my family cares if you can or cannot talk to them.” I take the pen and paper, then thrust the ice cream tub into his hands. “Now, no more of this ‘normal’ bullshit. We’re going to eat ice cream, listen to my sister bitch about something or other, and then I’ll let my mom tell you about the time I cried and huddled into a tiny ball in the middle of a busy sidewalk when I walked past a guy dressed as the Easter Bunny. When I was fourteen.”
Holden scoffs, then follows me back to the dining room. Nadine watches us as we sit down, giving Holden a soft smile.
“Gross, you bought strawberry ice cream, Mom?” she barks when she spots the tub that Holden places in the middle of the table. “You know I don’t eat that,” she moans as if she’s a pouting three year old and not a successful twenty-seven year old fashion designer.
“Holden,” Dad interrupts, his phone in one hand. “I just checked the RC Club calendar dates and they have a new members’ evening in September, after the summer break. I’ll puta note in my diary to remind you.” He’s clearly chosen to ignore my mother's earlier comment.
“Could you not have bought chocolate ice cream?” Nadine asks, still on the topic of her least favourite dessert.
“Rem, do you know where the Track Hugger 1:7 4WD Electric Supercar is? I think that would actually be a better one for Holden to try out.”
“I didn’t know you’d be dropping in tonight, so I didn’t cater to your requirements,liewe dogter.”
Holden’s head moves like a ping-pong ball between my dad, sister, and mom. Leaning in, my lips nearly brushing the skin of his ear, I whisper. “I hope you’re ready for two weeks of the chaos that is the Langford family. If you ever thought I was a bit much, just wait till you get to spend it with all four of us.” His head turns, bringing our lips awfully close together. “Chaos, I tell you. Utter fucking chaos.”
I take a chance and drop my hand onto his upper thigh. When his hand finds mine and he doesn’t push it away, but instead rests it over the top, our fingers twining together, my heart does a little victory lap in my chest.
Fake, I remind myself. This is for show. His little affectionate touchis for show.Only no one can see it under the table and it feels very fucking real to me.
Chapter 13
Holden
Wind rips through the trees. Their branches whipping together frantically, like the long spindly fingers of a witch. Monsters with dark, blackened eyes and sharp fangs hover over me. I’m crying soundlessly, my own tears forming puddles around my neck. I try to move my arms, but they’re trapped above my head, held down by a weight that burns when I move. A sharp stinging pain that feels like it goes right through to the bone. There’s an acrid smell mixed in with the damp stench of decay that turns my stomach. And laughter. So much laughter.
“Beg little freak. Beg,” the voices say, and I cry harder, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to rip my hands from where they’re sinking into the wet mud. Mud created by my own tears.
“Hold!” A distant yet familiar voice echoes through the dark forest.
“Hold, wake up!” it shouts again, and I fight against the restraints holding me down.
I shoot up, my eyes opening to reveal my bedroom. The orange glow from a streetlamp slithers through our threadbare curtains, lighting up Theo’s worried face.
My body quakes under the force of the dream, and I wrap my arms around myself. Theo flicks on the bedside lamp before tugging me into his arms.
“The nightmares are bad again, aren’t they?” he asks. His hand running circles over my back.
I nod against his shoulder as he hums into the silence of our room, wordlessly offering me comfort. For as long as he’s known me, I’ve had periods where the dreams overtake my nights, leaving me frayed and exhausted. I can never predict them, nor can I prevent them.
Theo tips us backwards until we’re lying down. His head is on his pillow and mine on his chest, both of us wrapped in our separate blankets. I let the gentle rhythm of his heart lull me back to sleep.
