39. MAGDALEN
39
MAGDALEN
After our fifth time around il budello , I’m obligated to speak up. Anika has already changed my bathing suit top, bought us matching beaded sarongs and purchased a professional ear-piercing gun.
‘You like books, right? Let’s go into the bookstore,’ she chirps as we approach a quiet side street. There’s a single lamppost at the end of the alley. We start walking down further and I see a wooden sign hanging on top of a bright green door. It swings in the breeze and the rusty hinges squeak with the movement. LIbrI USATI.
‘Anika, we’re not wearing shirts. They’re never going to let us in,’ I whisper harshly before she opens the door.
She rolls her eyes and grabs my wrist with the hand not occupied with her dozen shopping bags. ‘It’s Alassio, not the Vatican, you idiot. Everyone is in their bathing suits.’
The doorbell chimes as we enter and instantly the smell of old books floods through. It’s a heady and nostalgic scent, so peaceful that my eyes almost close. When the door shuts behind us, the noises of Alassio’s busy streets disappear, the store suddenly hushed. Like finding a damp cave during a rainfall, I’m overcome with calm from such a noiseless space.
‘ Buonasera ,’ says an old woman sitting behind the counter. Only the top of her head pokes out from over the desk; when she speaks, I see that the front row of her teeth is missing.
I nod hello and walk further down into the aisles of books. Anika and I split up, and I begin to make my way down to the nineteenth-century literature section. The store is dark and cool, the lack of windows in the back keeps sunlight from heating up the place, and I sigh happily.
The floor creaks behind me in the Russian literature section and I flinch, momentarily startled. I turn right and walk down the aisle when I hear footsteps behind me again. The footsteps are too loud and far-apart to be Anika’s. Alright, don’t get ahead of yourself, Magdalen. I casually continue down the aisle and turn left this time. When I’m halfway down the next aisle, the footsteps halt.
I look up to check what section I’m in and catch a scribbled MYTHOLOGY AND FOLKLORE note on the top shelf. Turning around to track my way back to the nineteenth-century literature aisle, I suddenly slam into something hard and lose my balance when two hands grip my shoulders, keeping me from falling over.
‘Mhm,’ a deep voice says, close to my ear. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were running away from me.’
I know before I look, by the hard planes of his chest.
‘Stalking me again?’ My eyes can’t seem to meet his. I think of Anika’s confession. Of his eyes red and swollen. I think of his words: The only reason you’re kissing me is because you’re too afraid to fucking talk to anyone else. I flinch unwillingly and take a step back. Theo must notice my change because he instantly drops his hands from my shoulders.
‘Sorry.’ He rubs the back of his neck. ‘I wasn’t trying to scare you but I couldn’t think of anything to say when I saw you come in the bookstore.’
‘It’s okay.’
He tries to smile, but only one side of his mouth raises and he gives up instantly.
‘This feels awkward,’ I manage to say. ‘ I feel awkward.’
‘Magdalen, you don’t have to feel—’ He takes a step forward and I flinch again, retreating further down the aisle.
‘I want to forgive you,’ I whisper. ‘I want to be fun and flirty.’ My throat is oddly tight and the tears from earlier pool in the corner of my eyes. I try to blink a few times but everything is just blurrier.
He opens his mouth but I cut him off before he can say anything, feeling brave in the mythology section of this bookstore. I speak slowly, saying the words as if I’m reciting from one of the books off the shelves.
‘ The only reason you’re kissing me is because you’re too afraid to fucking talk to anyone else. ’ I repeat the words that have haunted me since that night and it’s the first time I’ve said them out loud. It’s Theo’s turn to flinch, his face falling. But instead of stepping back, of pushing me further away, he pushes towards me.
‘You have to know...’ His hands hover over my shoulders again but at the last second he drops them. ‘Shit. I’m so sorry. You have to know that I only said that because I—’ He cuts himself off and it’s my turn to step closer.
‘Because you didn’t want Anika to find out?’
‘Magdalen, I couldn’t give a fuck about Anika knowing.’
‘Then what?’ I search his face for any clue but his eyes are closed off, careful to not give anything away. ‘If not Anika, then Dante?’
He sighs and shakes his head. I step closer and brush my pinkie against his wrist. It’s the most I can offer, but his eyes immediately look down at where we’re touching. He turns his hand so that his fingers brush against mine slowly and, taking his own pinkie finger, he curls it so that it’s holding mine.
‘You think I’d let Dante stop me from having you?’ His voice is strained, sounding utterly distraught.
‘Then what was it, Theo? What did I do wrong?’
His eyes shoot up to mine, brows furrowed in confusion, in anger. He blinks. ‘You think you did something wrong?’
‘How could I not when you basically said as much?’
‘Magdalen, I haven’t stopped thinking about your body in my hands since that night,’ he says, voice low. His eyes are dark as he releases my little finger and snakes his hands around my hips and up my sides, squeezing for a moment before settling them on my neck, his thumb absentmindedly brushing against my throat. ‘I think about your lips; about how delicious you taste.’ He lets out a small, almost involuntary groan and presses his forehead against mine. ‘My god, I have thought about being inside of you every morning since, amore .’
My body flushes at the thought of Theo thinking about me by himself and, for a second, I let myself believe him. To leave my hurt in Torino. But as much as I want this, as much as I want him, I think of how dirty I felt the morning after. Stained.
‘What was it, then?’ I repeat, refusing to let this go.
He stills, lost in his own words, the memory flush between us. I watch reality settle in his eyes again and he grimaces. ‘I can’t.’ He steps back. ‘I know that’s not what you want to hear but I can’t, I can’t—’ He swallows hard, releasing his hands from my neck but still almost pressed against me.
‘Please,’ I beg, reaching for his hand. ‘I need to know why.’
Theo winces. ‘If it meant I could have you to myself, believe me, I would tell you in a heartbeat. But you have to trust me, Magdalen. I know, I know, you shouldn’t, but just promise you’ll be with me this summer. I won’t let you down.’
You’ll be with me this summer.
‘Okay,’ I sigh. ‘I’ll give you the weekend.’ I don’t know why I agree. Emily screams in my subconscious, furious I’d let someone seduce me with blatant secrets on the table.
‘Summer,’ he corrects.
‘We’ll see if you want me that long.’
‘I want you for as long as you’ll have me.’
I roll my eyes, unable to help myself, looking off to the side to get a respite from his intensity.
‘I’m quite serious. I think about you more than I fucking should.’ He raises his hand and grazes his knuckles against my cheek gently. My eyes flutter closed at his hands on my skin.
‘How much?’ I nuzzle further into his touch.
‘Fuck off.’ I hear him smile. ‘Don’t make me say it out loud.’
‘I think about you, too.’ I open my eyes. ‘More than I fucking should.’
His knuckles still for a moment, soaking in my words. And then Theo’s face erupts in the most blinding smile I’ve ever seen. It’s so intense that I lose my breath, so taken by his utter beauty.
‘You’re warm,’ he muses, resuming his gentle strokes against my cheek.
‘It’s summer,’ I reply. ‘That tends to happen.’
‘No.’ His voice is gruff. Unsteady. ‘It’s this hair. There’s so much of it. Turn around for me.’ I look at him a second, confused before turning around so that I’m facing the rows of book spines. His chest brushes against my back with each breath.
‘When I saw you the first night I got back to Chivasso, I couldn’t see your face properly in the dark because of all this hair. Couldn’t see that cute freckle above your eyebrow.’ His breath fans the side of my face, making me shiver while his hands continue exploring, fingers combing through the strands before splitting it into three sections.
‘I’ve been meaning to get it cut.’ I feel him overlapping the pieces in a continuous pattern until he tugs on the end. Is he braiding my hair?
‘Your hair is beautiful.’ His voice is deliciously deep as he pulls on the braid, tilting my head until my neck is exposed to him. ‘But I’ve thought about doing this since the moment I saw you.’ He lowers his lips to my neck and kisses me lightly at first. I stifle a moan, lost in his scent of clean laundry and sunscreen.
‘Anika is in the store somewhere.’
‘Baby, she left almost the minute she walked in.’
‘What?’ He continues kissing down my neck and, when I go to bend my head forward, he pulls the braid again, kissing me until he reaches my shoulder.
‘The second you were far enough into the store, she walked right out.’
I laugh loudly and he covers my mouth with his large hand, muffling me. Then, without warning, he bites down on my shoulder.
‘Mhm,’ I moan into his hand, feeling the bite all the way down my spine. My body heats deliciously, and I squirm, needing more of him. Needing all of him. But he keeps himself at a distance so the only parts of us that touch are his hand on my mouth and my back pressed against his chest.
‘Magdalen, you should know better than to yell in a bookstore.’
‘That rule only applies to libraries.’ My voice is still slightly muted from his hand over my mouth, so I tentatively graze my teeth across his palm and bite down, mumbling into his skin. ‘You’re not the only one who can bite.’
‘Fuck,’ he growls and drops his hand to my throat, loosely holding it there, running that thumb over my neck again. ‘Do you have a hair tie?’ he asks. It takes a moment for my brain to remember he had braided my hair. That we weren’t just biting each other in a bookstore. My mind is whirling between the heat of his body and hearing him curse in my ear to now being asked to speak.
‘On my wrist,’ I swallow.
‘My good girl.’ He dips his finger underneath the hair tie on my wrist and slides it off.
As he ties the ends together, I tentatively ask, ‘So where did you learn to braid?’
Pausing a moment, he doesn’t say anything right away. When I’m about to tell him it’s okay, that I don’t need to know, he whispers, ‘Had to do Anika’s hair some mornings.’ I mull over his words as I feel him securing the band in place.
‘Why? Where was Cinzia?’ It feels like a dangerous question, but my curiosity gets the better of me. Desperate for anything he’ll give me.
‘She had a hard time for a while,’ he says softly, twirling his finger around the loose strands at the end of the braid. ‘Mornings were the hardest. Something about having hours of darkness to then facing the daylight, she couldn’t always do it right away.’
‘She was depressed?’ I press.
‘Probably still is. I don’t talk to her enough to know.’
‘Why don’t you? Talk to her, that is.’
He plants a soft kiss on my shoulder, then leans his forehead on me, letting the weight of his head push down on me. ‘Because I’m afraid she’ll tell me I’m right. I don’t like thinking about her sad.’
‘I understand,’ I say, and I do. I’ve missed a lot about the Sinclairs.
‘It was either learn how to braid or let Anika go to school with a bird’s nest growing in her hair.’
‘You’re a good brother.’ I say it without thinking.
He tenses behind me, dropping the braid. ‘I could be better.’
‘We all could. But you’re better than most.’
He sighs loudly and I turn around to look at him again. ‘Why can’t we ever just be young and flirty together?’ He tilts his head, moving a piece of escaped hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear.
‘That’s Anika and Dante’s job,’ I reply. ‘We are obligated to maintain an air of misery and hopelessness.’
‘That seems bloody unfair.’
‘Can’t choose the cards we’re dealt.’ I shrug my shoulders. ‘I’m afraid we’re stuck with it.’
‘I reject that. I’m going to be so fun you won’t even remember how to brood.’
My eyes go wide and I inhale with a smirk. ‘Impossible. I’ve been brooding since before I could walk.’
He takes my hands in his and squeezes them reassuringly, pausing a moment before the words rush out, eyes ablaze. ‘That first night back, you were lying in the grass. When I saw you, I couldn’t move. I had to look down at my hands to make sure there were ten fingers.’ My heart beats faster at his unprompted confession. ‘I still think I’ve dreamt you into my summer.’ I stare at him, breathless and surprised. ‘I keep waiting to wake up.’
‘Stay asleep.’ My eyelashes flutter, feeling flush from his words. ‘I’ll wake you up when summer’s over.’
A brief flash of an unknown emotion flickers over Theo’s face. ‘Deal,’ he says softly, his warm breath fanning over my face, causing me to shiver again.
‘Was that your version of fun and flirty?’ I ask teasingly, but my insides feel deliciously heavy from his words.
Hand relaxing in mine, Theo lazily grins. ‘Sorry, should I have said I’ve thought about fucking you since that little pink dress?’
‘Theo!’ I screech, covering his mouth without thinking. ‘You can’t say things like that in public.’
Dragging my hand to his mouth, his tongue traces the centre of my palm, and he moans into my hand. ‘And how much I want to see you come?’
‘Oh my god.’ My insides melt, stomach tensing with desire, and I drop my hand. Needing space from his carefree sex-talk. Who is this man? ‘You definitely can’t say that.’
‘No?’ he muses, smile devilish. ‘You don’t want me to make you come, Maggie ?’
‘We’re going to get arrested if anyone hears you.’ But my voice trembles; there’s no conviction in my tone. Imagining how Theo would touch me leaves me frozen with need. If he asked, I’m certain I’d let him undress me in the middle of this aisle.
‘They can listen.’ He dips his head so that his lips brush mine and he gives me a light kiss. ‘I don’t mind.’
‘Can we go now?’ I say against his lips, feeling flushed and uncomfortable with how much I want him, unsure where to put all these feelings. ‘I think I need some air.’
He chuckles, pressing a kiss to my forehead. ‘Fine. Let’s go back to brooding.’
Theo drags me down the aisles back to the entrance, where the old woman still sits happy and toothless at the front desk. Theo salutes her and then opens the door for me, bowing as I pass him. Outside, the sun has started to set, casting the whole city in a golden hue. Theo holds my hand, my stomach flips, and I resist rolling my eyes at my own happiness.
He turns to face me, backlit by the dimming summer light. ‘I wasn’t going to come back here. Ever. But I felt something.’ He drags both our hands to the space underneath his heart, outlining the rib, pushing with emphasis. ‘I felt something here. Pulling me.’ He winks. I think I die again. ‘Maybe it was you. Tugging on that telephone wire.’
‘You remember that?’ Two tin cans held together by a string between our houses. Weaving between rose bushes and tall cypress trees dividing us. Looking back, we were obviously mimicking our mother’s kitchen phone calls, curious to see what it was like to talk aimlessly for hours, to speak through silences, breaths through the microphone.
‘It’s hard to forget anything about this place.’ We walk across the cobblestones together towards the beach. Theo’s fingers are still entwined with mine, swinging evenly with the pace of our footsteps. I mull over his words and can’t help but think he didn’t mean it as a good thing.