16. Theo
SIXTEEN
THEO
“This looks great, Theo!”
I smile sheepishly, tipping my head at Noreen as she gushes. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”
The Fall Festival is in full swing. After getting everything set up, it’s finally here. All the booths are set up behind the church, big round string lights tying them all together. There are food trucks parked by the far patch of grass, and Earl’s over by the lake barbecuing. It feels like every family in Smallville is here, enjoying what’s been put together.
“Of course it’s a big deal, honey,” Clara tells me, wrapping her arm around my elbow. “It’s beautiful.”
I look down at Clara, a lingering apology on my tongue. She and I have been far from okay since I rejected her. The fight didn’t do anything to clear our systems. If anything, it just made the chasm between us wider. Now, instead of fighting, we’ve been floating around each other, afraid to say anything. The worst part is that night didn’t impact just us either.
I crane my neck up and look around the crowd, searching for Matteo. I haven’t seen him at all this past week. I’ve gone to the back of the church every day at lunch, but he hasn’t been there waiting for me. I’ve texted, but he hasn’t responded. If I hadn’t just seen him during Sunday Mass, I’d think he disappeared from the face of the Earth.
I think I know why he’s keeping his distance. Fuck that, I do know. The tension between us that night was something I didn’t expect, but I hadn’t rejected it either. I looked to him for comfort and found so much more.
Found something I didn’t even know I was looking for.
I can admit that I’ve touched myself to the memories of that night. The images of Matteo on his knees with his ass in the air, someone’s hands spreading his cheeks, and sinking into him. I envisioned him crying out, that throaty hoarse cry that only comes when you’re being fucked so good. Would they be deeper and huskier than a woman’s? He’d be dominant, wouldn’t he? Maybe he’d just throw me onto my back and climb on top of me, slide down on my cock until?—
I flush, feeling guilty that this is what I’m thinking about when I’m here with my family. These wayward sexual thoughts about him have just been growing stronger and stronger, especially since we almost?—
I shake my head. No, we didn’t almost anything. The fact that we got close enough to kiss has to be a trick of my memory, nothing more.
I finally spot Matteo in the crowd and it’s almost as if the people part by divine intervention. I can see him clearly now, standing just at the entrance of the festival, shaking hands with people as they come through the gate.
He looks so good .
He does. He’s beaming. His handsome face is nothing but smiles as he welcomes people in. After so many days without seeing him, I’m drawn to him. The need to be near him is blistering, festering under my skin until I’m looking down at Clara and kissing her cheek. “I’ll be back.”
She eyes me warily before glancing in the direction I was looking. When she sees Matteo, she smiles. “Oh, of course. You two probably have a lot to go through.”
Noreen nods, ushering me away. “Yes, go. Make sure this stays a success.”
I take their dismissal easily and walk toward Matteo. He doesn’t see me until I’m a few feet away from him, and when he does, his face transforms. I wonder if that happens to me when I look at him. Do I light up? Do the corners of my eyes crinkle with happiness? Do I take involuntary steps toward him like I just can’t help it? Do I smile so beautifully that it puts every other smile to shame?
But that expression gets wiped from his face a moment later. Stoicism takes its place when I reach him, and he clears his throat. “Theo.”
“Matteo,” I breathe expectantly, wanting to hear more than just my name. I rock on my heels, looking around to ensure no one’s there to eavesdrop before I drop my voice. “I—Um—I haven’t seen you lately.”
He nods, not looking at me as he smiles at a passing patron. “I’ve been busy.”
“Of course,” I blurt out, trying to meet his eyes. “I texted.”
“Like I said. I’ve been busy.”
I hate this. What happened to us? Did that night affect us more than I thought? It was just a stupid conversation about sex for fuck’s sake. “Can we talk?”
“Who’s that?”
I turn to see what Matteo is looking at and catch a young boy meandering around the apple cider stand. “Um, Billy?”
“Billy,” he repeats, completely avoiding my question. “Do you know why he dresses like that?”
I glance at what Billy’s wearing, and it doesn’t seem out of place. Sure, his clothes are a bit torn and he’s a little dirty, but he always looks like that. “I don’t think Merv has much money.”
That catches his attention. “Merv?”
“Yeah, have you met?”
His jaw clenches. “I haven’t heard the best things.”
Yeah, anyone who’s heard about Merv has that same reaction. “He’s been in and out of prison the last few years.”
He nods, still looking at Billy who’s currently picking through his cents to buy some cider. I almost suggest we give him some change when Don approaches him and hands him a dollar bill. “Who does Billy stay with when Merv is in prison?”
I shrug. “Not sure. Marcy would know the whole story. Matteo, please. Can we talk?” I ask, trying to bring us back to the subject at hand.
“I told you I’m busy right now,” he snaps, features hardening with displeasure as he finally looks at me. I must flinch or do something because his brown eyes soften after a minute. “Please, Theo, go enjoy the night with your family.”
I open my mouth to speak but am cut off when Marcy barrels her way between us. “Nope! You two are goin’ to have some fun.”
“Marcy,” Matteo says, blinking down at her. “Where did you come from?”
I have to laugh when I take her in and see what Matteo’s talking about. She’s covered in straw from head to toe and smells… “Did Old Man Crafter bring his goats?”
“Sure did,” she huffs, picking at the straw in her hair. “And one of his lovely little kids took a shit right on my shoe.”
“Marcy!”
“You’d curse too, Father, if you smelled like goat crap,” she argues. She grabs us, pushing us away from the entrance. “You two boys planned out this entire event and you deserve to have some fun. Go play balloon darts.”
Matteo shakes his head. “Marcy, I really am too busy?—”
“One game with Theo isn’t goin’ to hurt anythin’,” she insists. “Now, go and have fun while I go home and change.” She points a finger between us. “If I find out that you didn’t enjoy at least one game together after all your hard work, I won’t be happy.”
She leaves us with that threat, and Matteo and I stand dumbfounded. I chuckle weakly, nudging him with my shoulder. “So? Balloon darts.”
“One game,” he mutters, marching toward the booth before I can say anything else.
I follow behind him as we make our way to the game. There’s no one manning this station, so Matteo reaches behind the counter and takes a few darts out. He places them between us and takes one, almost breaking the wood behind the balloons with the force of his throw.
“You know it’s more about aim than sheer force of will,” I tease, taking my dart and tossing it at a balloon. It hits one but doesn’t pop it. “Well, I guess that’s not true.”
He’s still silent, not enjoying this at all like Marcy demanded. I can’t stand this. I don’t want this separation between us. “Matteo, we should talk.”
“Talk then,” he says, jaw clenching as he lets another dart fly.
I have a feeling I only have until this game is over to say what I need to say, so I rush through my words, not mincing the truth. “I miss you.” He stiffens, hand clenched around a dart. I can see him take a deep breath, not knowing the purpose, but knowing that he’s holding something back. “I… You miss me too, right?”
It’s so pathetic. Why am I searching for this kind of validation from a friend?
You know better, Theo.
Oh, just fucking shut up.
“I…” He gulps, sighing with something akin to defeat. “I do.”
“So why haven’t we seen each other? Why haven’t you texted me?” I ask, throwing another dart, frowning when it veers too far to the left. I set my next dart down, turning to him fully. “If it’s because I brought up sex?—”
“We crossed a line, Theo,” he rushes out, eyes fixed on the balloon. “I think it’s best if we return our relationship to what it used to be.”
I raise my brow “And what did it used to be?”
“A priest and his parishioner.” He says it so easily, too easily, and I find that I’m offended
Did what we have mean nothing to him? Is our friendship so fickle that he can just throw it away? I don’t know how they work, but people use the term “ride or die,” right? People have best friends, so why can’t I be his?
You know that’s not what you want.
“I don’t want that,” I say honestly, fingers itching to reach out and touch him. “I don’t think you want that either.”
He shakes his head. “I do.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Matteo, this is ridiculous?—”
A balloon pops. Matteo managed to hit one dead center, and the water falls down the wood, marking his triumph. “It’s Father Matteo.” He takes a stuffed giraffe from behind the counter, placing it in my trembling hands. “For Clara.”
And then he fucking walks away.
He just leaves me standing in the middle of the festival with a stupid giraffe in my hands, feeling like an idiot. No, not an idiot. Feeling like a used toy he no longer wants to play with. I’ve been tossed aside like I’m nothing. Pushed away just because of one uncomfortable talk.
I don’t get it but at the same time, I do. He’s my priest and I’m his parishioner. I thought we could have a friendship, he made it so easy too, but maybe that was just a pipe dream. I hate to think that because it just felt so real . We connected in a way I’ve never connected with anybody else. But he’s made his point clear. We’re no longer friends and I'm just another member of his church.
Tears prickle in the corner of my eyes. The loss I feel… it’s deafening. It’s like it becomes hard to breathe, and I clutch the giraffe to my chest as a way to keep myself in check.
“Theo, there you are.”
Clara appears beside me, smiling happily as she glances down at the giraffe. “What’s this?”
I pull myself together and smile down at her. “For you.”
“You’re too sweet,” she gushes, reaching up to kiss my cheek. “Did you beat Father Matteo?”
No, he beat me, and it’s a loss no toy giraffe can soothe.