Chapter 13
Theo
“
F lowers again?” Marcela looks stunned as she takes in the bouquet of lilies, roses, and daisies.
“Yes. Deal with it, woman,” I chuckle as I punch her parents’ address into my phone. When I look back up at her, I notice the sadness on her face and it guts me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask softly, turning down the music in my truck.
“We’ve been fake dating for over a week, and you’ve gifted me more flowers than Hunter ever did.”
“Celly,” I say her name on breath. “I want to be respectful of that time period in your life, but what the hell were you thinking?”
She chuckles softly. “That’s okay. I get it. I’ve been asking myself that since the breakup. It’s like the rose-colored glasses finally came off. I didn’t realize how murky things were between us before that.”
“Understandable. So, if he never opened the door or bought you flowers, what did he do?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me.
“Um,” she pauses, then starts again. “In the beginning, he was very sweet. He would do all the right things. He’d text me a lot, he made me laugh and told me I was pretty, and he would take me out on dates to the movies or bowling. Then after a while, he just stopped trying, maybe because he thought he had me, so why keep trying? But I needed that, wanted it. I wanted someone to buy me flowers, even if we’ve been together for ten years, because they know it makes me smile. I wanted someone who’s going to open my damn door, or bring me my favorite soup when I’m sick without me having to ask. I wanted someone who’s never going to stop showing me their love, instead of merely saying it without the actions to back it up.”
With my eyes on the road in front of me, I tell her “You deserve to be loved exactly how you want to be loved.”
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “How was your game today? I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. I had a bunch of stuff I needed to get done for my classes.”
“All good, Celly. Always take care of yourself first,” I tell her, not wanting her to end up like me, overworked and overtired from trying to please everyone. “We won though, 28-12 against the University of California.”
“That’s awesome. How did you play?”
“I threw a touchdown and had some great passes. All in all, a good game for me.”
Which made my dad very happy, as reported in his usual post-game phone call.
But of course, he had a long list of things I could do better and how he would’ve acted in certain plays. It was exhausting to listen to, and I’ve been tired of it since I started playing. I wonder how long it’ll take him to realize I’m human and not perfect. I’m going to make mistakes. Hell, who doesn’t?
“Did you have fun?” her voice trails off, letting me read between the lines.
We haven’t talked about me hating football since I first told her, and now that we’ve grown closer, I don’t blame her for checking in.
“Nope,” I say bluntly. “I act hype with the guys. And yeah, it feels good to make a good play, but more than anything I’m anxious and annoyed the entire time, because I feel like I’m wasting my time.”
“I’m guessing quitting isn’t an option for you?” she infers.
“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner,” I attempt some humor, but Marcela has none of it.
“Don’t do that,” she mocks the words I once said to her. “Don’t cover up something serious with a joke. You can talk to me about it. If you want to, that is.”
I inhale and exhale, then clear my throat.
“No, it’s not. My dad’s already lost so much, I can’t take this away from him too.”
Marcela nods, not prying for more information. We continue our drive in silence, other than the soft melodies coming from the radio.
It leaves me to think about the life I wish I could have, but never will.
Marcela’s childhood home is massive.
The three-level home has a white-and-grey brick exterior that screams money. Even their lawn is perfectly manicured.
So far, her parents have been courteous, but her mom wins the award for being the sweetest person I’ve ever met. I can so easily see the love she and Marcela have for one another. It’s refreshing despite the little twinge of jealousy I feel.
It’s what I wish I had with my dad, and will never get with my mom.
The moment we arrived and her stepdad greeted us at the door, I noticed a shift in Marcela. Her voice was quieter than normal, and each word was said carefully, as if she was scared of saying the wrong thing. And throughout the evening, I noticed Marcela would tense every time her stepdad spoke to her or put his hand on her shoulder in passing. I also didn’t miss how the guy was never without a small glass of whiskey in hand.
It has me on edge, unsure of what exactly she meant when she said he was abrasive.
We’re currently sitting around the grand, oakwood dining room table with a large spread of various foods between us.
“Mrs. Bass, these tamales are to die for,” I tell Marcela’s mother, cleaning my plate after my third helping. The tamales are wrapped in banana leaves and stuffed with chicken, potatoes, rice, and a mix of spices. Her mom made special ones for me without meat, and I’m grateful that she was so kind to do that. They’re delicious, and I don’t think I’ve eaten so well since … well, I can’t even remember. I’m on a pretty strict meal plan, and even when I go home, my dad never cooks anything he deems unhealthy.
“Theo, please call me Alana. But I’m happy you like it.” She smiles at me, plating some of the ceviche into her bowl.
“She’s an amazing cook. It’s what made me fall for her,” Chris, her stepdad, says.
“He’s the sweetest, isn’t he?” Her mom giggles, sipping on water.
I smile and look at Marcela, who gives the most unconvincing smile I’ve ever seen. Now I’m really getting concerned. Something has to have happened … because Marcela does not seem to like him much.
Chris drains his glass of whiskey, then sets his eyes on me. “What made you fall for Marcela?”
“Don’t feel like you have to answer,” Marcela whispers to me.
I wink at her with a goofy grin, letting her know I’ve got this. It’s not like it’s a hard question to answer, so I go with the truth.
“Other than the fact that she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve laid eyes on,” I start, placing my hand on top of Marcela’s on the table. “She’s kind, caring, smart and funny. That last one took me by surprise, because usually, I’m the funniest person in the room. It’s nice having someone put a smile on my face instead of the other way around for once. Simply put, she’s my peace in this crazy life.”
“Oh, Marcie, I think you got a good one.” Alana smiles at her daughter.
Marcela’s eyes are fixed on me, lips parted slightly as if she’s shocked by my response.
“Yeah, I do,” she says softly.
Chris clears his throat. “That’s nice and all, but if you distract her away from school during her most important year, I will not be happy.”
“ Mi amor ,” Alana chides. “Marcela is a smart girl, she knows how to prioritize. School was never a problem for her when she was with Hunter.”
I like her mom. I like her a lot for sticking up for Marcela the way she did just now.
“School is a big focus for me too. As much as I enjoy being with Marcela, we know our education comes first,” I reassure him.
“Speaking of Hunter,” Chris says, ignoring me. “I heard he’s at RLU this year. Is there no chance of you guys getting back together?”
Marcela’s spoon clatters against her plate, and the table goes silent for a beat. I’ve gone from being uneasy about the guy, to wanting to shove my fist into his jaw.
“No, Dad, there’s not. He cheated on me with my best friend, and they’re happily together now. And even if they weren’t, I’m happy with Theo,” Marcela says, treading carefully with her words, as if she’s trying to not upset him.
Chris sighs loudly as another glass is placed in front of him. Of course, they have a wait staff. “All I’m saying is people make mistakes, and I liked him a lot. We come from a similar background.”
“I don’t want to date someone similar,” Marcela says under her breath, causing Chris to pause his drink halfway to his mouth.
“What was that?” he scoffs, making the tension in the air more taut than before.
“Nothing,” she says louder this time.
Chris takes a swig of his drink, slamming it back on the table. “Now are you going to answer me? Why can’t you give him a second chance?”
“That wasn’t a mistake, that was a choice. One he can never take back, and one I’ll never forgive. I’m sorry,” Marcela replies.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“And you have no reason to be speaking,” Chris fires back, his eyes full of venom. With every drink, he transforms into someone entirely different from the person we met when we first showed up. It’s scary to witness up close the effects alcohol can truly have on a person.
“Why don’t we get the dessert out? I made tres leches,” Alana tries to ease the growing tension.
Chris downs his drink in record time.
I feel Marcela tense beside me. I’m about to tell her we should leave when he opens his mouth. “She can apologize for being a lazy little shit. All her life she’s never had to work for a dime. It all came from my paycheck.”
“Chris,” her mom cuts in, her tone placating.
“It’s the truth,” he signals to the staff for another drink.
“Maybe you should slow down,” Alana says softly. “We have a guest for dinner.”
Chris slams his fist down on the table, making the glass plates shake. “Don’t tell me what to fucking do. This is my house that I pay for, and all of you live in for free. I’ll do what I fucking please in it.”
I’m about to intervene when Marcela’s hand lands on my thigh, squeezing. I focus on taking a deep breath instead, before I say or do something to make matters worse.
“All she and her fucking sister did growing up was sit around and take from me. Not once did they have to lift a finger,” he remarks, getting angrier with each word.
“You wanted us to focus on our studies …” Marcela’s voice trembles.
“Are you talking back to me?” he growls, the vein in his head throbbing. “You know better than to interrupt people, and I wasn’t finished.”
“No,” she shakes her head adamantly.
“That’s what I fucking thought,” he raises his voice, just as another drink is placed in front of him.
I’ve had enough of his verbal abuse towards her. We need to get out of here before I do something I shouldn’t.
“It’s a long drive back, so we better go,” I push my chair back and stand while pulling Marcela up with me. “It was so nice to meet you, Alana.”
I purposely ignore her stepdad, and so does Marcela as she says a quick goodbye to her mother.
Alana attempts to follow us out, but Chris calls for her. “Alana, dear, come look at this house for our trip next month,” his tone is a complete one-eighty from the way he was just talking. It’s staggering how fast he can change.
“I’m sorry,” she mouths, giving us a small smile before turning back to her husband.
We make our way down the hallway and grab our jackets from the foyer, not bothering to put them on to get out of here as quickly as possible.
Once we’re inside my truck, I notice Marcela’s teeth chattering from how hard she’s shaking. With the truck being old, the entire front seat is a connected bench, it allows me to scoot right over to her.
My fingers gently brush a brown wave out of her face. “Talk to me,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
I’m surprised when she rests her head on my chest, nestling herself there. I stroke her hair, trying to bring her any semblance of comfort as she stays silent.
“I-I hate leaving her when he’s like this,” she finally says.
“We can go back in there if you want,” I offer even though it’ll kill me to keep quiet. It’s never been my forte.
“I can’t be in there. I want to crawl out of my skin when he’s like that. He won’t physically harm her, but he’ll say really mean things and pass out soon. Like he always does.” She sighs in defeat, which tells me that this has happened multiple times.
The thought makes my stomach churn, knowing she’s grown up like this.
“I still don’t like it.”
“Neither do I,” she sighs. “I wish she would leave him. How can she stay when he hurts us all like this? I know there was love there once … but I don’t know.”
“Not everything is as easy as we think it is.”
“I mean, she’s never left him or even talked about it. There must be something holding her back. I’m just hoping that whatever it is, we’ll be able to overcome it.”
I don’t say anything, and instead, I kiss her forehead.
I expect her to tell me not to do that again, but when her honey-brown eyes look up to mine, a small smile on her lips, I know she didn’t mind it.
“Thank you for being here with me,” she says.
“Always,” I tell her, sliding back into the driver’s seat. I turn the radio on, and we settle into a comfortable silence as I drive back to campus.
“I think we need to go on another fake date,” Marcela blurts suddenly.
“You want to take me out, huh? I don’t blame you. I’m quite the catch,” I tease her.
Marcela groans, but I don’t miss her tiny smile. “So cocky.”
“What brought this idea on?” I ask as I switch lanes.
“Hunter and I started dating when we were in high school. Dating as an adult seems so different from those days, and I guess I want to practice being out with you in public. So it looks natural between us. Does that make sense?”
“It does.” I nod, resting one hand on the wheel. “I mean, dating is pretty much like being friends. I would like to think our friendship is already natural.”
“Please don’t say all relationships are like friendships. I may never be able to trust a guy with a girl for a friend again, after what happened between Ruby and Hunter. Especially considering they told me they were just friends.”
“I get where you’re coming from, Celly, but there needs to be an aspect of friendship in every relationship for it to work. That’s all I meant. I’m friends with Aurora, Jasmine, and Camille, but that doesn’t mean I want to be with them.”
She’s silent for a few moments, as if she’s processing what I just said.
“Friendships with the opposite sex can be tough to navigate when you’re in a relationship. It requires honesty, boundaries, and trust,” I add, in aim that this gives her the reassurance she needs. I hope she can grow to be okay with it if things work out between us in the future, because I couldn’t imagine my life without the girls in it. Hell, Aurora was my first real friend here, besides Ryker of course.
“You’re right, it’ll take me time to adjust. That’s all,” she says quietly.
“It will, and that’s okay. The right partner will never make you doubt that, and will reassure you when you need it.”
“I hope so,” she murmurs, her tone sad.
“Since we didn’t have dessert, where do you wanna go to get some?” I ask her, desperate to put a smile back on her face.
“Theo, we don’t have to pretend anymore. You don’t need to do that,” she shakes her head.
“Pffft, this isn’t because you’re my fake girlfriend. This is because my dessert belly is starving, and you’re my friend. Put those two things together and it means we must get dessert.”
She chuckles at that, making my heart feel lighter than it was when we left her mom’s house. Seeing her happy is my favorite fucking thing.
“Is Wendy’s okay? I could really go for a Frosty.”
“Why wouldn’t it be okay?”
“Hunter was always on a diet. If he did let himself have a treat, he always thought Wendy’s was below him,’” she says, her tone full of disdain.
“God, he is more of an idiot than I thought,” I groan, not sure how I’ll ever look at him again without wanting to punch him. “But yes, we can get them as long as we split some fries for dipping.”
Marcela sighs with relief. “Thank goodness you do that too. I didn’t want to be weird.”
“That is a childhood staple. If anyone says it’s weird, they’re just jealous because they never got to try it.”
“Exactly,” she chuckles, warming up the truck with her aura.
Nothing feels as good as being around her, it makes a part of me light up that’s been dark before this. It stays that way as we get our two chocolate Frostys and fries, eat them in my truck in the parking lot of Wendy’s, and when I drop her off back at her apartment.
It’s not until I’m tucked into bed that I’m hit with the anxiety of my fucking to do list for tomorrow. As I try to fall asleep, I realize that I need to figure out what’s more important to me.
Finding a passion that makes me feel as good as Marcela does, or continue to suffer just to please my father.