Chapter 34
Chapter 3 4
Theodore
It’s after dinner now, and for the whole evening, after getting cleaned up and trying to muster as much innocence as possible, I find that we can’t keep our eyes off each other to save our lives. It’s like an unspoken fear between the two of us–that the other could disappear or turn into someone else if we got distracted for too long. Ollie and Devon immediately figure us out, of course, which leads to more than one embarrassing comment and results in just as many glares from Dafne.
Ms. Patterson suggests the whole group walks to a clearing which the village’s people have assured her is the best place in a twenty-mile radius to look at the stars. The cast gathers in the keep’s parking space before making our way towards the designated area. There are already a few people there, sitting on cloths, gazes up at the night sky.
Dafne and I sit side by side, but we haven’t been touching, or holding hands, or whatever it is that couples do. Which is sort of ridiculous considering what we did barely a few hours ago.
She elbows me gently, probably sensing I’m lost in thoughts, but doesn’t comment on it. I give her a small smile, and she winks.
“I’ve always wanted to know more about constellations,” she says then, eyes roaming above.
“What do you want to know?”
“Well, it would be fun to be able to name them, for one. I know it’s not that hard, but it’s just one of those things I never got around to learning,” she explains.
“That,” I say, pointing upwards to our left, “is the Ursa Major.” I trace my fingers in the air so that she can hopefully see the little chariot pattern. “Also called the Big Dipper, although to be precise, the stars that make it aren’t a constellation, but something called an asterism–what?”
She’s looking at me, her chin resting on her knees. “You’re such a know-it-all,” she smiles. “Keep going.”
I clear my throat, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by me how many times she’s called me that before, but in a completely different way.
“That’s, uhm, Venus, the planet, of course.”
“Of course.”
“And, oh, over there,” I point, “that’s Sirius. One of my favorites.”
“What did Sirius do to be deemed worthy of such hon-our?” she asks, her eyes so bright they reflect the stars.
“It’s one, if not the, most luminous stars visible from Earth,” I tell her. It’s nearly pitch black, the landscape illuminated by a few lanterns planted in the ground, but I can see her looking intently at the patch of sky I pointed to.
“That’s you,” I add so quietly I’m not sure she’s heard me.
She takes her gaze off the sky, and her eyes are wide when she looks at me again. Her lips part on an exhale, then the right corner of her mouth goes up.
“You know you can’t tell me that and expect me to not want to kiss you, right?” she breaks our eye contact by taking a look around us, none of our friends seemingly having noticed our closeness. She closes her eyes.
“It was worth the risk,” I laugh softly.
“You’re not allowed to change your mind in a week, Price,” she says half-heartedly, but I know better now. I know now that behind the snark and the wit and the strength with which she carries herself, she’s also been hurt and she doesn’t want to again.
And I’m transported back to reality.
The blasted bet.
My stomach turns upside down. I’ve been so caught up in her today, and I just …
I need to come clean about it before she has the chance to learn it elsewhere. I just have to . And maybe she’ll understand.
I mean, the conversations we had set the record straight on the fact that I’m not actively trying to hurt her. I realise that’s the bare minimum, but given everything that’s happened, it has to count for something, right?
I might end up hurting her worse than ever after all, and the thought makes me want to be sick. I’m in too deep, in every possible way.
I tilt her head towards me again by gently pushing under her chin with one finger.
“I won’t,” I promise. That much she can count on.
I can’t remember if there was ever a time I felt like I do now, in this specific moment in time. Completely, perfectly happy. It’s such a foreign feeling, off a stage, that I briefly think I might not be equipped for it; but Dafne’s back is against my stomach, my arm draped around her, and she begins to stir, drowning out my thoughts.
Last night she essentially collapsed in bed, and I figured I’d let her get a good night’s sleep before talking to her.
“Morning,” she mumbles, and I press a kiss to her shoulder.
“How’d you know I was awake?” I ask, resting my chin in the crook of her neck. I smell peaches.
“You think too loudly,” she yawns, which makes me snort. I’m about to tell her I want to talk when she tries to wiggle free of my grasp. I hold on tighter. “Are you trying to run away already?” I joke.
“This is not a film, Price,” she says, prying my hands away from her stomach. “I’m not kissing you until we both brush our teeth,” she says, padding toward the bathroom.
“Point taken,” I sigh. Might as well go for it now.
“Also, I need to talk to you about something,” I add over the sound of the water running in the sink and get up. Each passing second she doesn’t know threatens to draw an impassable line between us for good. She makes a noncommittal sound as she finishes up in the tiny bathroom, then walks back to the bed with a grin. I take my turn at the sink, taking a moment to collect myself. When I get back to the bed, she pushes me down with one hand and falls next to me.
I swallow, and I’m about to speak again when she asks, “How’d you get this?” She touches the side of my chin with her pointer finger.
“Uh, the scar?”
She nods as she looks at it intently, fingers caressing my jaw.
“I fell from the table I was using as a stage,” I explain. “I was six.”
“Really? Poor thing.”
“Yeah. My parents never paid attention,” I fail miserably at keeping harshness out of the words. You could say I’ve never really forgiven them for essentially preten-ding I don’t exist .
“If you ever want to talk about them, I’ll listen, you know.”
“There’s not much to say. They hadn’t planned for me, I … happened to them, I guess. So at some point they decided I’d be better off with my grandparents. They were right.”
“They’re the ones missing out,” she says confidently, like it’s an irrefutable truth.
“You never speak about your parents. I hope it’s not because they suck,” I say to shift the topic. She gives me a look that means she knows that, and smiles.
“No, they do not suck. They’re really fun. They keep a copy of the speech I wrote at nine when I announced I was going to win an Academy Award in their wallets. Always said I was ‘ born for great things ,” she licks her lips.
“They’re not wrong, you know.”
She looks at me like she can see inside my brain. I hope that’s not the case.
“I really do need to ta–”
She gets up and plants a palm firmly on my chest as she straddles me.
“Daf–”
“Yeah?” she lowers herself to press a kiss between my pecs. Then another lower. And lower. Christ.
“I really–”
“I have another idea,” she says against my stomach.
“We also have to meet the others in–hmm–fifteen…”
I can’t seem to formulate a full sentence when her tongue and her teeth are doing that . She stops to look at me through thick lashes, and smiles coyly. I want her so much, but I can’t let her go on. I don’t want her to regret it, although at this point, there is already too much to possibly regret.
“I only need eight,” she whispers, and before she can slip under the covers, I gather any remnant of willpower I have left and pull her up by her forearms. “Please, it’s–important.” I say roughly.
“Fine,” she sighs, clearly annoyed at the interruption. “You want to pass up on a perfectly nice blowjob, suit yourself. What is it?” she asks, sitting back on her knees.
“It’s about, well, you and me, and–”
Three sharp knocks on the door suspend my almost confession.
For fuck’s sake.
Ms. Patterson’s shrill voice lets us know we need to be in the courtyard with everyone else right about now.
“Sounds like it’ll have to wait some more?” she chuckles, completely oblivious to how unfunny this whole situation is. I roll off the bed after her to get dressed.