22. Theá
Chapter twenty-two
Theá
I learnt very early in my life that men will always use you for what they can get out of you. At first, it was painful, but the more it occurred, the more desensitised I became to it all. That was what I thought would be the most painful lesson to learn, but somehow, looking a man dead in the eye as he rejects you seems to hurt far worse.
To have taken my innocence and offered it to him on a silver platter, just for him to say no and run off.
In the few minutes of silence where I sat and waited for Antonio to come out of the bathroom again, hope flooded me. That just this once, a man would come and take exactly what he wanted from me because, for the first time, it’s what I wanted, too.
But when the shower turned on and I realised that he wouldn’t be coming back, it was as if clarity washed over me. Suddenly, the entire room stank of my desperation.
I grabbed my dress and dug out my panties from the drawer I saw him toss them in, then bolted to my room.
How could I have been so stupid? So high off euphoria that I was willing to risk it all on a man I barely knew. That I was willing to just give it all up for him.
I should be counting my lucky stars that, for whatever reason, he decided to say no. Because any normal man would’ve probably jumped at the chance to take my virginity without me even having to offer it. Much like I had originally thought Antonio would based on his threats.
His mother’s words flood through my head. “ Antonio is actually the softest of them all. He cares so much about other people that he’s often harder on himself if it means protecting someone else.”
The look in his eyes flashed between pure lust and intense worry, all in a matter of seconds. Especially the way he looked at me when I offered to beg like he had originally requested.
For a man who was full of ego at the beginning of the week, he truly did dissolve into a softer, more palatable version by the time we got home after the dinner.
Alas, whatever his reasoning was, how it all occurred has left me feeling hollow and empty till this morning. No amount of time in the shower drowning myself with vanilla shower gel helped erase the feeling.
If anything, the more time I spent alone, the more the clarity turned to rage as embarrassment set in. I wouldn’t be able to face him again after this. To look him in the eye and know he rejected me without any reason.
Dread has my stomach gurgling. To be fair, it may just be hunger, but knowing I have to go downstairs into a shared space makes the dread flare up nonetheless.
Vibration reverberates through my bed, and I furrow my brows as I flip the covers around looking for my phone.
Eventually, I find it hidden underneath my pillow. I pick it up and stare at Eleanor’s name, which lights up the screen.
I have no energy for her bright and bubbly energy this morning, especially not after last night. Too many things are running through my head, so I trust my gut and don’t answer it, allowing it to ring until it goes through to voicemail.
Once the screen goes black again, I unlock it to send a text to my sister, checking in on her before tossing my phone on the bed again.
I swing my legs off the bed, but before my feet even meet the ground, my phone starts vibrating again.
I glare at the device in annoyance and contemplate turning it off entirely, but then the little voice in the back of my head whispers:
What if it’s an emergency or something wrong?
I sigh and grab the phone. “Hello?” I answer, hoping my tone will give away the fact that I’m not really in the mood to talk right now.
“You’re alive! Oh my God, thank the heavens,” Eleanor says in the most exaggerated tone I’ve ever heard.
Like I said, bright and bubbly. I just clearly forgot to add dramatic to the list.
“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” I stand and head to the bathroom, placing the call on speaker as I get my skincare together to wash my face. Eleanor and I have been friends for so many years and have seen each other in so many compromising situations, that neither of us cares anymore about pleasantries.
“Firstly you ignored my call—”
“No, I missed your call,” I correct her before this turns into some sob story about how I’m a bad friend.
“Whatever, and then on top of it, I had to hear from Kylian that you ran out of dinner last night, sick with food poisoning?”
My mind flashes back to last night. The high before the immense low. The excuse felt like honey the way it dripped from my tongue. In the moment, I would’ve fed Kylian whatever it took to get him to let me leave. I’m just grateful it didn’t take that much energy, after all.
“Yeah, I think it was something I ate,” I say, adding a slight groan to my voice to emulate the aftermath of a stomach bug.
“That’s insane, because you sounded fine when you called me in the bathroom where you were supposedly throwing up, and I distinctly heard a male voice before you hung up.”
Her voice holds no trace of judgement or malice, but rather humour, proud that she’s caught me in a lie.
I remain silent, rinsing off my face wash as I try to find a sufficient answer. “We just wanted to get out of there, so I said I wasn’t feeling great.” It’s not a lie, per se, but it’s enough of an omission of the truth to keep the rest of the night a secret.
It’s more than enough to stop Eleanor from asking any question that could lead to any further embarrassment.
“We huh? What happened in the bathroom?”
“Nothing,” I say and flinch because it came out too quick and too nervy.
“Yeah right. C’mon, tell me.”
“Eleanor nothing happened.” I sigh. Reliving the exact night I want to forget is driving my irritation to new heights, and I’m worried if I don’t get off this call soon, I’m going to say something I might regret.
“Okay, if something sexual happened, then stay quiet.”
I contemplate talking, but if I just go along with this, maybe it’ll be over sooner.
“Oh my God, I knew it. Is he big? I mean he looks like he’s big. Actually, he looks like he’s huge . You know, major big dick energy.”
“Goodbye, Eleanor,” I say as a heat creeps up my chest.
“Give me something here, I’m living through you right now.”
“No, goodbye. I’ll call you tomorrow,” I say, and hang up the call.
Great. Now I’m hot, flustered, and hungry all at once, and the dread is still swirling in my stomach as I head down the stairs.
Maybe he’s not awake yet.
Of course, that’s just wishful thinking since I know Antonio is an early riser, and even more wishful thinking when I see him sitting at the kitchen island drinking his coffee.
Fuck.
I freeze in the doorway and contemplate my next move carefully. I could turn and run, but that would only buy me so much time. We will inevitably have to interact with each other.
So I suck it up, take a deep breath, and head to the coffee machine. I avoid looking in his direction and instead, go on a search for the cup I usually make my iced latte in.
“I made you a shot of espresso earlier in the cup and put it in the fridge.”
I freeze in my attempts to reach the top of the cupboard.
“Uhm, thank you,” I say softly, surprised he even wants to speak to me when he could barely look at me last night.
I walk over to the fridge, and sure enough, my usual mug is sitting on the middle shelf with a shot and a half of espresso. Which happens to be the exact amount I usually use with just enough space for my milk.
The asshole has clearly been paying more attention than I thought. To be fair, he does have the peculiar habit of always being around me when we are both at home. Except when I’m in my library—that’s the one place he never comes in. I mentally curse myself for not going there to make my morning coffee.
I retrieve both the mug and the milk, and head to the counter with my back facing him. Something catches my eye on the counter—a large bottle of vanilla syrup.
I turn and face him, only to find him already observing me. “You got me syrup?”
“I did,” he says softly, his eyes observing me as if he’s not quite sure how I’ll react.
“Even after you told me it’s a sin against coffee and Italians?”
“Yes, even after that. There are a few more flavours in the cupboard above it, but you’ve been ordering vanilla this week from the restaurant downstairs.”
My mouth opens and closes like some dying fish gasping for air, unsure of what to say or even feel, especially after last night. “Thank you.” My voice cracks, but I clear my throat and face the counter again to avoid him seeing my face if I happen to burst into tears. Right now, the lump in my throat feels almost impossible to swallow down. I have to stand still to just breathe, to prevent a sound from leaving my lips.
Suddenly, my skin prickles and all my hair feels as if it’s standing on edge. He’s directly behind me, and it takes everything in me to not flinch away as he places a hand on my forearm. “Theá, about last night—"
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But I do.” He stands next to me, trying to meet my gaze, but I keep my eyes locked on the coffee in front of me.
“Why? You made it crystal clear we don’t need to rehash it. I was stupid, and desperate, and you weren’t interested. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“I am interested,” he counters quickly.
“Sure as hell didn’t look like it by the end of the night.”
He sighs and hangs his head slightly. “I know what it looked like, but that’s why I want to speak about it. I never intended to hurt you or make it seem like I was uninterested, it’s just…” he trails off.
“That I’m a virgin and you don’t want the baggage that comes with that?” I raise a brow, now finally facing him. “I know there’s always that stupid narrative that a girl becomes obsessed with whoever she loses her virginity to, but that’s honestly just idiotic. The whole concept of virginity is just something stupid conjured up by men to make a woman feel even more inferior when it happens.”
He opens his mouth to reply, but the sound of the elevator doors opening and footsteps on the marble tiles shuts it right up as he turns to see who our visitor could be.
“Wow, this place is huge,” a familiar voice echoes from where the elevator doors are.
Valerie waltzes into the room in a light pink sundress, her fingers interlocked with Ambrose’s as he stalks in after her.
You’ve gotta be kidding me.
My brows furrow at our unwelcomed guests, and I can hear Antonio groan before he turns to face them fully.
“Good morning, newlyweds,” Valerie sings as she lets go of Ambrose’s hand and walks over. She wraps her arms around Antonio before turning to do the same to me. I can’t help but feel slightly awkward as I watch their exchange, especially now after hearing the extent of what they all went through as a direct result of my family.
“Hi, Ambrose,” I say and wave awkwardly, evidently very intimidated by him.
“Theá,” he responds along with a head nod. His eyes are almost boring into mine.
I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that I’m in this stupid, flimsy chemise again. “I’m going to head upstairs and change.”
“I’ll go with you, if that’s okay?” Valerie asks. I look up at Antonio who looks like a deer caught in headlights.
“Uh, yeah. Sure,” I say, awkwardly.
I am slightly apprehensive about leaving Ambrose and Antonio alone, especially after how I found them arguing at the wedding, but I think better of it and head upstairs with Valerie hot on my heels.
“Sorry for just dropping in unannounced like this, Ambrose insisted on seeing Antonio.”
“It’s okay, your entrance was perfectly timed,” I scoff.
“Why? Did we interrupt something?” she asks worriedly.
“Only an argument, so don’t worry about it. It could’ve been worse.” I chuckle, but she doesn’t join in. This may be the epitome of the world’s most awkward morning.
“Argument? Is everything okay?” she asks once my laughter dies down. She seems so genuinely concerned that I almost want to tell her what’s going on.
I stay silent. Is everything okay? I don’t know how to answer that question.
“You don’t have to answer if it makes you feel uncomfortable,” she quickly follows up on her previous statement.
“It was just some miscommunication that we need to hash out,” I call it what it is without elaborating too much, especially since I don’t know what their relationship is like now.
“Okay well, if I know anything about Nino, he is usually pretty good at communicating as long as it’s not with Ambrose, so it should resolve very quickly. You should give me your number so that I can text you and give you a heads up next time,” She extends her phone to me as we enter my room.
I haven’t had many friends aside from Eleanor, so the interaction feels slightly strange. But her advances seem genuine, so I choose to welcome it instead of fighting it. I punch my number in and save it before handing the phone back to her.
“Oh, another reason we stopped by is that Nat is performing tonight at State Louis . It’s her last show of the European leg of her tour before she takes a short break, and she asked if you’d be keen to come. By you, I do mean you and Antonio, since I need him to come and keep Ambrose company.”
A part of me is unsure of how to respond. After years of constantly having someone else decide things for me, it feels strange to be given a choice.
“That sounds like fun, but you’ll have to run it past Antonio, too.”
“Trust me, I know Nino. I’m sure he’ll say yes,” she beams.
I however can’t help but feel awkward. There’s an unspoken bond between them, and I don’t know how to feel about it.