CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Alma is driving us to town in fifteen minutes, and I’m not ready. I haven’t had to care much about how I looked for so long, but now that I’m standing in the bathroom staring at myself in the mirror it’s painfully obvious how fast everything falls apart without my normal routine.
The bags under my eyes are more noticeable, my skin is more uneven, and my poor brows are unkempt.
I frown at myself, unable to ignore the memories of the past rushing in.
Back when I used to stare at myself in every mirror I came across, wondering why I had to look the way I did.
Running a hand through my hair doesn’t help. It’s longer, I think. More wild.
I’m dressed in a pair of Alma’s jeans since they fit me, and a loose fitting sweatshirt with a cat on it that Lucio offered up. It’s hard to imagine a guy like him wearing it, but I guess I don’t know that much about Lucio. None of it makes me feel better, though.
When was the last time I worked out? The last time I actually put effort into my appearance so that I’d never be the fat kid everyone made fun of again. It makes me feel like an outsider in my own body, and that hurts.
The worst part is I don’t think anyone would even understand around here. I doubt they care about looks as much as I do, which is funny when I don’t actually care about looks. Not for other people. I just care about how I look, because I was made to be painfully aware of it at a young age.
I’m probably overthinking things. I always do. But I hate what I see. I hate the person staring back at me. I almost want to call off the whole date, but the bathroom door swings open and Toro peers in.
“Hi,” he says. He loves that word, I think. He says it whenever he can, and I find that adorable. He saunters up behind me, wrapping his arms around me. He must have some sort of built-in tracker to sense when I feel off.
My reflection isn’t alone anymore. My boyfriend is standing behind me, holding me tight like I belong—like I’m okay. Then he’s kissing me from the top of my head to the base of my neck, smiling all the while.
“Cute,” Toro murmurs even though his eyes are closed and he can’t even see me. “Mine. Cute.”
All those negative thoughts feel further away, now. I push him away playfully, blushing. “Don’t.” My tone is anything but convincing, and it doesn’t help that I fall into his chest and giggle.
Toro kisses my head one last time before pulling away, looking at himself now. His expression is hard to read, but he doesn’t look all that thrilled. He pulls at the bottom of his red and black flannel that I picked out for him, before bringing a hand up to stroke his chin.
“Prickly,” he says under his breath. Sneaking a glance over at me, and I quickly realize that this is his way of asking for something.
“Do you want me to help you shave, sweetheart?” The way his face lights up while he nods eagerly just melts my heart. His stubble is thick, but I’ve never seen him shave it before. “Okay. Sit.” I point to the closed toilet, and he listens without hesitation.
His razor is some old red electric one. I plug it into the wall and half expect it to explode, but it doesn’t. When I switch it on it vibrates in my hand, whirring like an angry little thing. I search the counter and cabinet for shaving cream, but find nothing.
So I opt to just wet his face with my hand, which of course he doesn’t question at all. Just smiling up at me all wide eyed while I smear water on his face, which makes me want to squeal and smother him with affection.
But I don’t, because I need to get this done.
Since there’s no shaving cream I take my time to shave him, trimming down the dark hairs that cover his face until there’s only a thin shadow-like layer of stubble left.
He’s practically smooth faced, and something about that is deeply unsettling to me.
Somehow he’s de-aged ten years, glancing up at me with the expression of an actual puppy now.
“Uh… How old are you, Toro?” It’s almost alarming that this hasn’t come up until now. I guess considering how we met we sort of skipped all the awkward small talk that comes normally.
Toro thinks for a second, before his smile comes back. “Twenty… three. Twenty-three.” He says simply, and I nearly lose my mind.
“You’re younger than me?”
He laughs, taking the razor from my grasp and setting it down on the counter so he can scoop me into his arms.
“Old.” Toro is teasing me. I’m sitting there sputtering and he’s teasing me. “Nico old.”
“D-Don’t make fun of me!” I shriek, whimpering before hiding my face in his chest. “I thought… You… Oh my god…”
“Like it,” Toro purrs. Of course that makes me instantly pull back, eyeing him curiously. “Sexy…”
My jaw drops. I didn’t even think that word was in his vocabulary, although I guess that was ignorant of me.
Toro isn’t stupid. He’s far from it. His family might call him simple and all that other bullshit, but I know that he’s smart.
Being able to read or write isn’t a measure of intelligence, especially not for him.
But I’m also not gonna let him just get away with that.
“Yeah?” I put on my best internet porn ad voice, hands resting flat on his chest. I arch my back not-so-seductively, and I probably look really stupid but that’s okay because I know it’s gonna work on him regardless. “Do you really think I’m sexy, Toro?”
That’s enough to shut him up. He goes still underneath me, face turning as red as his shirt. “U-Uh…” He stammers, pushing his thighs together. I just giggle, kissing his nose before climbing off him like nothing happened.
“Come on, Alma’s waiting for us.”