14. THEO
14
THEO
I leave the house before my father wakes up. Too early for disappointment. The bald pig from last night managed to get a few punches in, leaving a slight bruise beneath my right eye and a cut along my nose. Not wanting to think about it, I shrug on a clean white T-shirt and jeans, careful to stay silent among the morning birds, and sneak downstairs. Passing through the kitchen to see slices of half-eaten toast and day-old fried eggs tells me Anika came home last night. I relax, annoyed with how preoccupied I was with Dante that I forgot check up on her. But it wasn’t just Dante that was distracting me, was it?
Anika’s car sits in the driveway where I parked it last night so I get inside, shivering with the morning breeze. Deciding to drive to the museum before it opens, wanting to see what they’ve done to it since I left. The windows are fogged with the morning dew and the sun appears behind the terracotta buildings, creating a glow of amber around the neighbourhood.
The museum has been the centre of my life for as long as I can remember. It was my home before my house ever was. I’d always fought my want of studying Egyptology, not wanting to follow my father’s footsteps so closely. But it was useless. It was first love. My only love.
I’m halfway down the steep hill that our neighbourhood is set at the top of when I see someone walking down, rotating her shoulder and kicking a pebble every so often. Ponytail swinging with each step. Despite me being fifty metres back, I can feel it’s Magdalen. She wears a silk lavender top and a small white skirt, the light colours making her olive skin glow. Even at a distance she’s fucking beautiful.
I slow the car when I get close enough and tap the horn a few times, hoping she recognizes Anika’s car.
She doesn’t, stumbling over the pebble she was kicking as her head turns to the car. Eyes wide and alarmed, she shoots a hand to her chest, panting in shock before she realizes it’s me.
‘ Cazzo , Theo!’ Bending forward, she rests her hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. I supress a groan as her skirt hikes up even further. ‘What happened to your face?’ she gasps, coming closer to the window.
‘Morning, Magdalen,’ I grin.
‘Jealous I was the only one with an injury?’
I squint from the sunlight through the window shield. ‘Something like that.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘How is it that in the thirteen years of living next door to you, I barely see you, and now within two days you’re everywhere?’ Her breathing is still uneven, but she snorts with laughter, shaking her head.
‘Maybe it’s fate.’ I smile but it quickly fades when I really take her in. The injuries from last night are brutal in the morning light. Bruises line the nape of her neck to the collar of her shirt; an abstract array of deep purples and greens creates a gradient across her skin. Lower down, I see another dark blue bruise covering the back of her forearm. My hands squeeze the steering wheel, trying to keep my temper in check. I should have smashed his nose off his fucking face.
Magdalen places her hands on her hips, tilting her head. Oblivious to my anger. ‘And where are you headed off to so early in the morning, Rocky Balboa?’
Without meaning to, my eyes trace her legs, long and tanned, covered only by the small tennis skirt that skims her upper thigh. God, those thighs are something. I swallow hard, focusing past her, on a dandelion growing between the cracks in the pavement. Not picturing my hands on her. Not at all.
‘Running errands,’ I smirk.
‘Do most of your errands involve physical altercations, or was that just a one-time sort of thing?’
‘Depends on whether someone hurts you again.’ Her pretty smile fades and I internally cringe. Why do I have to keep making things so intense?
‘You didn’t have to—’
‘You shouldn’t be walking on your own in your condition,’ I cut her off, shutting down the engine.
‘In my condition?’ Magdalen scoffs. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Her hands rest on the open window and I look down at her nails, still painted that deep shade of red. Even her fucking fingers are pretty.
I have to roll my eyes. ‘Do you not have a mirror? You’re covered in bruises.’
‘Do bruises mean I can’t walk?’ She pauses. ‘Should I be scolding you for driving with a black eye?’ She bites her lip to conceal her laugh, drawing my eyes to her full lips.
‘Are you laughing at me, Magdalen?’ My voice sinks deeper – enjoying this playful side of her. Wanting to see that smile more.
She releases her bottom lip, her eyes still bright with humour. My hands grip the steering wheel again, but this time to stop myself from running my thumb over her knuckles, over those cherry-red nails.
‘I think I might be, yes.’ She nods her head, pretending to think about it. ‘I’ll catch you later, Theodore.’
And then she’s off, leaving me staring at her ass as she saunters downhill. I blink and press my foot on the gas only to remain in place, forgetting I turned the car off. ‘Fuck,’ I whisper, clumsily finding the key in the ignition and following her like a bloody stalker. But I can’t let it go.
‘Let me give you a ride,’ I say in the moving car. She looks straight ahead, pretending I’m not there.
‘I’m okay.’ She shrugs her shoulders but stops the action midway, her face scrunching with pain, revealing she’s very much not okay. My stomach drops. I should’ve killed him. I should’ve beat him to a bloody pulp. ‘I like to walk.’ Her voice is strained and I almost stop the car; the need to make sure she’s alright is so strong I feel myself tremble.
‘There’s time for walking when you’re not in this much pain,’ I say cautiously, not wanting to spook her but also not taking no for an answer. ‘Those cuts are still fresh, Magdalen.’
‘Look, I appreciate the concern, I really do. Last night was a big help. Sorry you had to see my tits. But I’m a big girl. If I say I can walk down a hill, I mean it.’
I blanche, her words automatically making me remember her cupping herself. ‘At least tell me where you’re going,’ I croak, fighting off the image of her half naked and on display for me. There’s no fucking way she’s not getting in this car.
She huffs in annoyance and I have to hide my smile.
‘No.’
‘Yes.’
‘Theo,’ she warns, and I feel giddy when she says my name.
‘Maggie,’ I whisper back, enjoying this frustrated side of her. ‘I’ve got all day. I’m more than happy to follow you around if that’s what you want.’
‘That is most certainly not what I want.’
‘Okay, so tell me where you’re going and I’ll be out of your pretty hair.’
Magdalen stumbles a little, cheeks burning as she clears her throat and whips her head towards me again.
‘Alright, fine. But just because I’m telling you doesn’t mean I want a ride. You’re just annoying.’
‘Yeah, I know, I’m just curious.’ I tap my finger on the gear shift.
‘I’m going to the train station.’
My jaw almost drops. That’s a three-kilometre walk along the highway. If her bruises are this bad, I can’t even imagine the shape of her back. Fucking hell, how is this girl even standing up right now? Her mother should have tied her to the bed.
‘Magdalen—’
‘What did we talk about?’
‘Get in the car,’ I push and then cringe at my tone. There’s no way she’ll listen if I force her. I try to soften my approach. ‘Please? I’m headed in that direction anyway,’ I add, hoping this will help. Not understanding why I need to have her near me. Picturing her walking along the highway in pain sends a flicker of concern down my spine. There’s no way I’m leaving without her.
She sighs again, looking back up the hill and then down again, as if judging whether it’s worth the fight I’m willing to have.
‘Fine. Jesus, you’re worse than Jo.’ As she walks around the front of the car to get into the passenger seat, I find myself mumbling.
‘Just for you, Magdalen. I’m only this bad for you.’