Page 6 of Win You Over
Me: And yes, I’m eating well. Theo is fine, too. He should be home from work soon.
As the message shows as delivered, our bedroom door swings open and Theo walks in. He strips out of the polo he wears to work and climbs onto the bed next to me, resting his head on my knee.
We share a room and a bed in a three-bedroom apartment on the second floor of a building that should probably be condemned. It’s not much, but it’s all we can afford and is on a direct bus route to the university, so we make the best of it.
Some might think it’s strange, two guys who are not dating, sharing a bed, but there’s nothing going on between us. I’m straight and he’s my best friend. It makes financial sense for us to share rather than each paying for our own room. And given our lack of social lives, it’s not like we’re ever in a situation to bring home someone. Sex is the furthest thing from my mind most days and on the days it’s not, my hand and I have plenty of Theo-free time to take care of business.
“My boss is such an ass,” Theo groans and I playfully pat his head, then swish the red hair off his forehead.
“So you’ve said, many times,” I joke, my voice raspy. I’m generally comfortable around Theo, which makes talking to him easier. But this week has been hard, with losing the fight, working extra shifts and the sad state of my bank account. Anxiety, shame, guilt, and a host of other emotions often lock my voice away.
“All I said was that if he stopped having so many options on the menu, it would make the lines move quicker, and he snapped at me! Seriously, there is no reason to have so many coffee choices.” Theo continues rambling on, filling the silence between us as he often does. It’s one of the things I love about him. He rolls onto his back and opens his mouth. “Feed me, I’m hungry.”
I chuckle at my best friend and his puppy dog eyes, then wind some noodles onto my fork and deliver them into his open mouth. He sits up, coughing and choking on the food before finally swallowing it all. His face is pinched as he wipes at his mouth.
“Jesus, Holden. Those are disgusting.”
I shrug, because yeah, they are, but they were cheap and came in bulk.
Theo leans forward on the bed and takes the offending noodles out of my hand.
“I got a really generous tip today. Let’s get pizza. My treat.” He smiles softly, his eyes pleading with me not to argue with him on this. I hate it. I hate taking things from him. I hate that I let us both down by losing that fight. He wouldn’t need to spend his tip money on me if I had won.
My gut reaction is to blame Remington, but at the end of the day, the fault was on me. I wasn’t strong enough. Again.
“Thanks,” I say quietly, my tongue feeling heavy in my mouth. I can sense the barrier that keeps my words locked away, slowly coming up. My heart races and I feel a little queasy, so I stand from the bed and turn my back to Theo. I make a show ofcollecting my towel and toiletries before turning around and lifting the towel for him to see.
“Yeah, good idea. Take a shower and then we’ll go out for pizza.” He flops back onto the bed, one hand on his naked stomach while the other holds his phone up in front of his face.
I take my time in the shower, keeping my eyes on the yellowing tiles in front of me. I don’t let them drift to my chest, to the marks I try so hard not to think about, but that I have no choice but to wear. One day, when I have the money, I’ll cover them with tattoos. I’ll make them go away and the last bits of the person I used to be will no longer exist.
Theo and I walk from our apartment, two blocks over to our town's bustling main street. There are pizza places closer to home, but Theo has a favourite and since he’s paying, I follow along with no complaint. The evening is cool and I tighten my coat around my waist. A gentle breeze whips off the ocean, bringing the scent of salt and sea with it.
We pass a few other people on the way over, but the streets, including those that house most of the stores and restaurants in town, are mostly quiet. Early May in Marina Cove, Maine, is not popular with tourists and the cooler evenings tend to keep people indoors. In a few months' time it’ll be a totally different story. The warmer days will bring the tourists to our picturesque seaside town and those university students that don’t leave for some or other holiday – like Theo and I – will spend more time outdoors.
When we reach Theo’s favourite Italian restaurant, I look through the large glass window at the front of the place and mymovements come to an abrupt halt. Grabbing Theo’s arm, I tug him back and he looks at me, his brow raised in question. I nod towards the window and he curses when he sees what’s caught my attention.
“Of fucking course they’re here.”
Inside the restaurant, taking up one large table, is none other than Remington and his posse of merry fuckheads.
“We can go some place else, Hold.” He touches my arm, then gestures down the street.
I shake my head, the word ‘no’ on the tip of my tongue, but refusing to pass my lips. Theo wants to eat here, so we’ll eat here. We close the distance between the sidewalk and the restaurant, and push open the door. It’s a small place, with maybe eight or nine tables covered with red and white chequered tablecloths, fake potted plants hanging from the ceilings and huge chalkboards with the day’s specials displayed on the tiled walls.
Inside, a server shows us to a table to the left of the large group. Thankfully, they’re all too preoccupied with their food, drink and each other to notice us. Seated in the centre of the table, like their king, is Remington. A brunette girl, dressed in a skinny red dress not suitable for the cooler evening, is seated on his lap, his hand resting on her thigh where her dress has ridden up. He’s laughing loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear as she whispers something in his ear.
She’s beautiful. I appreciate her short cropped, shiny hair and her round breasts pressing against the sheer fabric of her dress. But it’s the two of them together – his big hand on her slender leg, her pink lips brushing the skin on his flushed cheek – that stirs something inside me.
I’m not all that clued up on sex and attraction. I've had one intimate experience with a girl, which was mildly enjoyable and is the basis on which I label myself straight. But apart from that,sex, lust, desire, attraction? It’s not on my radar. It’s very hard to build any kind of relationship – romantic, sexual or otherwise – when you don’t trust anyone's motives.
Someone else in the group throws a bread roll at Finn and he retaliates by launching one back and my attention is snapped away from the couple. Every one of them is loud and disruptive, but no one would dare say a thing about it, because collectively, the people at that table own this town. Or at least, their families do.
“Fucking idiots,” Theo grumbles as he picks up his menu. “Must be nice to not have to give a shit about anyone but yourself. No respect or decency in any of them.”
I don’t respond, instead, I turn away from the raucous lot and scan my own menu. I start at the top and work my way down, eyeing out the cheapest thing here. Knowing Theo won’t stand for me settling on a side of fries, I opt for the cheapest pizza - margarita.
Theo is still perusing the menu, the cardboard obstructing his face, when an elbow knocks my shoulder, seconds before cold liquid pours down my arm, soaking into my baby blue sweater.
