17. Chapter 17 Staley
Chapter 17 Staley
T he campus is overcome with vibrant reds, yellows, and oranges coating the trees. Crisp air fills my lungs; it’s beautiful, and I’d love to sit on the grass with a warm latte to take it all in. Call it a potential strategic encounter with Theo on his way out of the classroom. Maybe he’ll be free to hang on the grass together outside of cuddling.
The minute I exit the building, Gabby snatches me by the arm and yanks me into the shade by the side of the building.
“Is this a shakedown? Because I swear, I don’t have any drugs.” I laugh because I don’t have much left of my breakthrough medication. Frivolous expenses went out the window the minute I opted to try this new medication for dad. Making iced lattes at home isn’t so bad.
Gabby and I have spent only a little time together, but I can tell she’s the person you can’t keep secrets from. She oozes trustworthiness and best-friend energy.
She leans in and whispers. “What’s happening between you and the hot-ass teaching assistant we all call Mr. Sullivan?”
Gabby stares, unblinking, waiting for my reply. She digs into the depths of her front pocket to retrieve her lip balm, never taking her eyes from mine. Client confidentiality is a rule I take very seriously, but I’m desperate for a friend to discuss this with.
“Gabby, I can’t confirm.” And as cheesy as sparkling eyes are, I can feel mine light up. This is as much as I can give her.
I want to tell Gabby how I went a little crazy and listened to, then deleted, Theo’s message from his not-girlfriend. Because there’s an enormous relief knowing Maeve, a Paris runway model with legs for days and killer style, is not his girlfriend. Gabby paints her lips, amazed by my coded non-response, waiting for me to spill more tea.
“I don’t know how good you are at deciphering the meaning of ninjas ballroom dancing to Willie Nelson in the middle of a snowstorm, but I know a twinkly eye message when I see one. Say no more.”
“Willie Nelson?”
“Yeah, he’s always in my dreams, and I can’t figure out why!”
Gabby throws her hands up, playing off her specific dream sequence. I haven’t laughed in ages. A lingering ache pries my chest open. Grief for all of the things I will get to experience and not as a college student with an ailing parent. Grief for all of the things my dad will miss out on.
“What are your dreams usually about, Staley?”
Mine are always about the future that will never be. How Dad might see me graduate but won’t remember why he’s sitting in the audience. I picture him wearing a World’s Best Grandpa shirt or bouncing my child on his knee. From today and all the days moving forward, I will be one of the few who will have known my dad as who he was before . If I have kids, Dad won’t get to hold them, and they’ll never get to put their tiny gummy hands on his face for kisses or give him silly grandparent nicknames. He’ll never get to carry them on his shoulders at concerts, and they’ll only know about the love of their grandfather through the stories I will tell them.
These aren’t dreams. These are very real, intrusive thoughts.
I hiccup a small cry to the back of my throat when the sound of a throat clearing interrupts my intrusive thought spiral. Gabby looks over my shoulder and smiles. Placing her hands on my upper arms, she gives me a soft squeeze and models a deep cleansing breath, which I parrot, and thank goodness I do because as I turn around, I’m greeted by Theo.
God, he is gorgeous. The way his forest-green cardigan shapes his thick torso shows off how damn cuddly I know he will be once we try out new positions. I wipe at my eyes, hoping Theo is oblivious to my teeny tiny breakdown, and give him my best-dimpled smile.
“Hey, Mr. Sullivan, Staley and I were finishing up. Great class today, by the way. I’ll call you later, Staley.” Gabby walks off backward, giving me ohmygod eyes while mouthing fuck me , and it takes everything within me not to snort a laugh.
“St-staley, are you okay? I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” I could fall asleep right here listening to the softness of his voice.
“Um, yeah. I was having a little moment, but I’m okay now that you’re here.” Embarrassed, I clench my teeth at my omission and suck air through my lips and change the subject immediately. “You were incredible today in class.”
Theo looks at his shoes and tucks his hands boyishly into his front pockets. A quad espresso would quiet my nerves because I am without pockets today and have nowhere to hide my nervous hands.
“Something came over you. You let Jack and Alex have it. Pulling poetry out of your back pocket like it was nothing. Is that a party trick of yours?”
Theo laughs, smiling at me with fixed eyes. I might catch on fire under his gaze, but now isn’t the time to try out a Stop-Drop-and-Roll cuddle when there’s an audience.
“Not a party t-trick. I had a lot of time alone as a kid and I’ve got a good m-memory.” He taps the side of his temple, making me wonder what else he has locked up in his head, what else he’s holding back. “And you weren’t so b-bad yourself.”
Silence follows his compliment, and all worry that I need to fill the space with too much talking leaves my body. I’ve lost the will to flirt better because Theo, for whatever reason, elicits ease in me, quelling anxious feelings. Warmth swims through my belly, and I wish I didn’t have to get to my next cuddle appointment, but the bills are calling my name.
“Yes,” he says.
“Yes?”
“I’d love t-to get coffee with you. Are you free now?” I’m convinced he’s the shyest man in the world because he works so hard not to be heard. Or perhaps this is his other party trick, whispering until I lean in. It’s clever. And hot.
I close the gap between us and let the quietness swallow us both up.
“I wish I could, but I have an appointment in fifteen minutes.”
I can’t bear to see him like this, so I reach for his hand to reassure him that I’m disappointed too. Theo sidesteps the hand holding and wraps me in a hug instead. I let myself be held because it is one way to let go of everything I carry. Theo’s hugs are as I imagined—safe and comforting. A rumble crawls through Theo’s chest before I hear it leave his perfect mouth.
His cardigan bunches up in my hands, demanding he not let me go any time soon.
“I hope this is okay. I know you’re a h-hugger.”
At this remark, I lose all my cool, drop my forehead into his chest, and laugh, replacing any history of crying a few minutes ago. I breathe him in and pretend we can stay here forever.
“Theo, I have to go. I’m going to be late.”
His hands leave a permanent impression on my lower back, and I feel their absence as soon as he slides them away.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
So this is what an undoing feels like. Anxiety attempts to re-enter my body, but before she does, I flirt a little as I walk away.
“Rain check on coffee ... and more hugging?”
The image of Theo wrestling with the state of his hands is enough to leave me with a delicious humming coursing through my body.