6. Indie
The voice of the man I’d steadfastly avoided for six years rang out behind me.
I had exactly 2.4 seconds to school my face into a cool, impassive mask after Theo Yao-Miller shocked me into turning around.
The term of endearment exclusive to him was still echoing in my ears.
My arms still overloaded with pet supplies and my huge tote for the office, I slowly turned to face my former teenage crush.
“Theo?” I put some confusion into my tone, despite knowing exactly who was standing in front of me.
I’d recognize Theo anywhere, anytime. Aside from being a media darling, every bit of his essence was burned into my brain.
Theo, however, didn’t need to know that.
At one point, I’d been so obsessed with him that if I were given the right magical powers, I could conjure him from thin air. It seemed too much to hope that he was a figment of my overworked brain.
I wanted to blink and wish him back into my now smothered daydreams. But he really stood in front of me after all these years.
“Merry Christmas, Rocky. What are you doing up?” Theo stood in their family kitchen after an early gym workout.
I made myself answer him, trying to come off casual, but my voice betrayed a slight tremor.
“Dunno. Just couldn’t sleep.” I shrugged, as if I hadn’t planned the next few minutes for years.
“Yeah, strange bed and all that. I know how hard it is for me to sleep during away games in all those hotels. I don’t blame you.”
That was Theo, always trying to make others feel at ease around him. He turned his back to me to get the coffee maker started. I took the opportunity to silently erase the distance between us.
I laid my trembling hand in the middle of his back. And he swung around, his eyes widening at the physical closeness between us. I’d avoided the hello and goodbye hugs over the years, finding that touching him in even a platonic way made my heart hurt.
“Indigo? What are you doing?” There was a hesitation in his tone that I couldn’t heed.
I quickly opened the palm of my left hand and revealed the beat-up sprig of mistletoe that had left sharp imprints on my hand from my strangling grip. Before I lost my nerve, I closed the distance between our mouths, brushing my lips lightly over his before immediately kissing him more firmly.
My brain must have short-circuited in those few short seconds as I felt his soft lips on mine. When his hands came up to gently grip my hips, my first thought was “Yes! He wants me too.”
It took another few seconds to realize that his lips were not moving under mine, and his light hold on me was to hold me back from pressing into him further.
Horrified, I took a big step back, dropped the sad little sprig on the floor, and covered my mouth with both hands.
His expression looked shocked. I had seen that kind of expression on people’s faces before. It was the kind that meant bad news was coming and the person was sorry to have to say it out loud.
“Oh my god,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.” I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I couldn’t ever look at him ever again.
I had experienced my share of painful moments in my life, but the excruciating pain of his rejection coupled with a feeling of humiliation so acute I thought I might pass out if I didn’t get out of there.
“Indie. I… ugh, we… can’t. You’re way too young for me. I’m flattered. You’re a great girl.” His voice got quieter as I bolted out of the room, needing to get out of that house as fast as possible.
I cataloged the changes in him since that fateful Christmas morning in his family’s kitchen while I attempted to offer a bland but not rude smile.
If the years of dread at facing this moment turned my efforts into a grimace, then so be it. It was the best I could do being caught so off guard running into him this way.
He was just as handsome as the last time I saw him. His height and frame still commanded notice. His hair was a little longer, still so dark brown it was almost black. Now, its waves flopped down over his forehead, covering the side of one of his espresso-colored brown eyes.
At twenty-five, his face had been clean-shaven. Now, at thirty-one, his sharp cheekbones and jaw were accented by enough dark scruff that it was nearing beard qualification status. I could see a few tiny laugh lines creasing his eyes and near his full lips. His olive skin was deeply tanned after the summer months. He wore a plain white T-shirt under a gray hoodie, neither of which hid the work he put into his arms and chest. I didn’t let myself think about the abs that were hiding under that shirt. His look was rounded out by a pair of worn jeans that hugged his powerful thighs. Thank god I hadn’t seen him from behind.
My heart, which I had locked away the exact moment I’d realized Theo didn’t want me back, thumped pathetically in my chest. Though I’d tried dating in college, not one person had ever caught a glimpse of my heart since I’d offered it to Theo like a hastily wrapped Christmas gift.
All those feelings I’d built around my one-sided love for Theo ached to come back to life.
Instead, I imagined a hydraulic press crushing them back into the back of my brain where they belonged.
The last thing I was going to do was let Theo have any power over my feelings ever again. To do that, I had to get away from him now.
He stared back at me intently. I was so caught up in my swirling emotions I couldn’t decipher the look on his face.
Nor was I going to stick around to find out. He seemed at a loss for what to say next. I was going to take advantage of his inaction and make my escape.
I got my key unstuck and knocked the door open with my hip.
“Hope you’re doing well, Theo. I’ll see you around.”
There had been some talk among the senior team members about a new starting goalie. Since it hadn’t come across my desk yet, I’d put it to the back of my mind.
Why did it have to be Theo?
I shut and locked the door behind me, gently setting all the bags in my arms on the ground. Before I could do something like peek out the peephole to check if he was still in the hall, I kicked off my boots and headed for my bedroom.
I wasn’t going to feel bad about avoiding him. I’d just learn his schedule and adjust my own accordingly. There was no way I was going to erase this distance between us just to make him feel better.
I didn’t owe Theo Yao-Miller anything.