Page 31 of Win You Over
When my eyes open again, the sun is shining through the curtains, washing away the nightmares and replacing them with the promise of a new day.
Theo is up, sitting at the desk, his elbows resting on his knees as he watches me. My partially packed suitcase lying closed but unzipped at his feet.
“You’re acting creepy,” I say, my voice raw from sleep.
“I don’t think you should go,” he blurts, sitting up straight. His eyes are narrowed as he chews his bottom lip.
“What?”
“To Italy. I don’t think you should go. I think you’re having nightmares again because of it.”
I shake my head despite having an inkling that the trip I’m about to take is, in part, the cause of my restless nights. Finals week didn’t help either, but now that the stress of that is over, I can’t blame them on exams.
“I lost the -”
“Fuck the bet!” he barks. “You don’t owe Langford anything. This is real life, not a game.Yourlife.”
“I’ll be fine,” I reply, before swinging my legs over the side of the bed and stretching. My worn vintage band t-shirt rides up, a cool breeze from the crack beneath our window caressing my warm skin.
“You barely know him, Hold. You’re always cautious around people, yet you’ve let him in, and I don’t understand why.”
I push to stand, walking over to our small chest of drawers, glancing at the small black, velvet cushion lined box that safely stores my dad’s knife. I tuck it into my shoulder bag, having decided I’ll ask Remington if I can leave it at his place while we’re away. I trust Theo, but I barely know the other guys who live with us, so would rather not leave the only valuable thing I own here.
Then, I pick up my phone and reply to a message my mum sent asking what my plans are for the summer. Given I planned to go home for Christmas, I’d told her earlier in the year that I wouldn’t be visiting over the summer. Not wanting to lie to my mum, I respond with a vague answer, saying I’m going away with a friend and hoping she will presume it’s Theo and not ask anything more. Thankfully, she responds with a message telling me to have fun and be safe, followed by a screenshot of the countdown timer she has on her phone, counting down till my visit in December.
That makes me smile, shooting back a reply to tell her how excited I am to spend the festive season with her. My mum and I are close. Not the way we used to be when I lived at home, whichI expected to happen when I moved out. But, she has a tendency to worry about me and the last thing I want to do is have her worrying the entire time I’m in Italy.
Locking my phone, I turn my attention back to my friend. “But I know myself. Mostly anyway,” I say, as I sit down on the edge of the bed, giving a quick glance around the room to see what else needs to be packed. Theo gets up and takes a seat next to me, the mattress dipping beneath our combined weight.
“And I know I’m okay with him. It’s hard to explain how or why. Other than that, when we’re alone together, I feel at ease. Not afraid or anxious that he has some nefarious motives.” I twist in my seat so I can see Theo’s face.
“I may be wrong and it wouldn’t be the first time, but I think I’m going to take the risk. In a way, he reminds me so much of you.”
That comment has Theo pulling back, his eyes searching my face for an explanation.
I clear my throat, my mind journeying back to the day I met Theo, four days into my first week at school in the US. He’d been a quiet boy who ate lunch alone, spent time in the library and smiled sweetly at anyone who showed him any attention. When I’d walked into the lunchroom on my first day, I’d spotted him, sitting alone on a long bench, a juice box and sandwich in front of him, a worn copy of Romeo and Juliet in his hand. My immediate thought was,what twelve-year-old chooses to read Shakespeare on their lunch break?
I sat alone that day too, and we were, without even realising it then, kindred souls. Two lonely boys, who would soon enough realise they needed each other, if only one could be brave enough to close the distance. I couldn’t be the person to strike up a friendship with anyone, nor could I allow anyone to attempt one with me. Trust was not something I did. But Theo? He was the little mouse, crawling into the smallest crack in my armour,making itself at home in my heart. Theo is the only person besides my mum, who knows my full story. Every single, painful detail.
“He’s persistent, like you were that first week we met,” I start. “Remember how you worked up the courage to slide into the seat next to me at lunch? You asked me what my favourite colour was and then offered me an Oreo.”
“And you shook your head and pushed my Oreos onto the floor,” Theo says, a smile settling on his face. “You wanted me to fuck off.”
“But you didn’t, did you?”
Theo shakes his head, his mousy red curls falling into his eyes.
“No, I came back the next day with a pad of paper and two marker pens.” I think back fondly on those first few weeks, when Theo would sit next to me at lunch, a pen and paper in front of him. He’d draw columns and have me write my favourites – colours, animals, foods – and then he’d do the same, giving us what he called “friendship points” every time we matched. Even the few times I pushed his pens away, or tore up his paper, he never quit on me.
“Remington is like you in that way. And also like you, he’s kind, and he doesn’t push me for answers. He doesn’t think I’m odd or a freak-”
“Because you’re not,” Theo retorts.
“And that is another thing you have in common. You both treat me like I’m…” My eyes dart around the room, searching for the right words. “Not different.”
Theo doesn’t look convinced, but he also doesn’t argue.
“That’s why you feel comfortable around him?”
