Chapter eight Thiago
Chapter eight
Thiago
Seeing her there—in my space, with my things—it did something to me.
I wasn’t proud of how that moment had finally come about, and I knew I had no right to expect anything.
But I did. And whatever I was hoping for, it already had a bitter edge, because I knew it would hurt someone I loved more than myself.
But we’re all weak. Like I told Kami a few minutes before—we’re only human.
I couldn’t control what was going on in my body—or my head—every time I caught sight of her.
I never could. Not when I was a kid and all I wanted was to get under her skin.
And definitely not now, when just looking at her made me think about kissing her, holding her, having her beside me.
Being her friend, her confidant, her lover.
In my head, she’d always been mine—since that first, dumb kiss, back when I thought I knew what love was.
There was a problem, though. She may have belonged to me in my mind—not like an object; I knew you could never possess another person.
No, she belonged to me in a way that went beyond my own principles and prejudices.
My soul cried out for her, my heart needed her, my body longed for her every single day.
I was in love.
A person knows these things, and if you aren’t sure, it means something is wrong. And that was what got to me: I was scared of taking a wrong step. Kam had feelings for my brother. She had to. She was crying over him. Missing him.
Is it true that you can love more than one person? I couldn’t wrap my head around that, but maybe that was me, maybe I was too uptight, too old-fashioned, maybe I didn’t understand those kinds of feelings because I couldn’t imagine loving anyone but her.
I couldn’t judge her—human minds are too complicated for that—but still, every tear she shed for my brother broke my heart.
Was I jealous?
I didn’t know, but what I felt when I saw her with him or imagined them together was an ugly feeling, one I wasn’t proud of and didn’t want to harbor.
It was difficult—all of it—because I understood how she could love Taylor. He was incredible. Who the hell wouldn’t love him?
What I didn’t understand was why she was in love with me.
Did that even matter? Did I need to understand it? Did I care? Because she was there, right? And the way her body reacted when I was near had to mean something—something serious, something important. Didn’t it?
“Who picked out those cushions?” she asked.
Like always, she caught me off guard. I blinked, confused at first, until I realized what she was talking about.
“Those? They were in here when I bought it,” I answered, studying her profile, her little nose.
I’d always liked the shape of it. Especially because it was so expressive.
You’re probably wondering how a person can use their nose to express anything.
Kamila Hamilton could. It would wrinkle when something grossed her out, and twist slightly when she was deep in thought.
When she smiled, it would turn upward, and when she got impatient, her nostrils would flare.
And then there were her eyes: rich brown and expressive, framed by a precious halo of eyelashes.
I was always struck by her combination of light skin, blond hair, and heavy dark lashes.
When she looked at me, it transported me elsewhere.
She could drive me crazy, and she could reel me back in.
One look and I was willing to do anything, anything, just to be the center of her universe.
“I figured,” she remarked, making her way farther inside.
She stopped close to my bed—too close. Not on purpose, and it’s not like there was anywhere else to go, the place was pretty small, but once I saw her there, my mind flooded with the possibilities.
How many times had I imagined undressing her—slowly, carefully, taking my time to kiss every inch of skin, all the spots no one else would think to touch?
Or just the opposite—rushed, rough, desperate, like I couldn’t get close to her fast enough.
People say we’re just animals, all instinct.
And maybe that’s true. I was trying to keep mine in check. But some days, it felt impossible.
Did she feel the same thing when she saw me? Did she want to tear my clothes off and kiss me all over?
I turned away with the excuse of switching the heater on, hoping to give myself a moment to calm down.
“I like it,” Kam said, and I looked back at her. That smile, those eyes still red from crying, that blond hair tousled from the motorcycle ride. Every bit of her moved me in a way I still couldn’t express in words.
She was gorgeous, magnificent, the sweetest person in the world. She was the girl of my dreams.
“I like you,” I couldn’t help but respond, and I watched her absorb those words.
“I don’t understand why,” she said.
Shaking my head, I replied, “If only you could be in my head right now. Because I promise you every one of your doubts would vanish.” I took a step toward her.
She looked out the window and remarked that it was snowing. I looked to see the flakes gently falling. And that made me realize something.
“It would be dangerous to drive you home,” I said, taking a step closer.
“Because of the snow?” she asked.
“The motorcycle could skid, especially if the road’s iced over. I wouldn’t want to put you in danger.”
“I’ll call my mom and tell her…” The way she hesitated made me even crazier about her.
“That you won’t be coming home tonight?” I could tell her heart was beating faster. I could feel mine doing the same. Was she frightened?
“But you’ll take me if it stops, right?” she asked.
“I’ll take you wherever you want, whenever you want. Just say the word.”
I had to remember she was younger than me… Maybe she didn’t want to spend the night. Maybe it didn’t feel as urgent to her as it did to me now, as I could feel myself getting hard.
But my words seemed to relax her. I couldn’t help but try to remind myself: Relax, Thiago! Don’t fuck this up. “You want some macaroni and cheese?” I asked, turning on my tiny stove.
“Sure,” she responded, flopping down on the couch. As I started taking ingredients out of the fridge, she asked, “Do you know how to cook?”
Offended, I replied, “I’ve been cooking since I was thirteen.” I put on water to boil.
“If you think you can cook, then I should be on Top Chef,” she replied, standing and rolling up her sleeves. “I can promise you, you’ve never tasted macaroni and cheese like mine.”
Resting my hips against the counter, I said, “Don’t underestimate my culinary abilities.”
“Don’t underestimate mine.”
She was so much shorter than me that I had to look down, and it was hard to resist the urge to grab the back of her neck and pull her in for a kiss.
She must have known that’s what I wanted, but I could tell it wasn’t the right time, so I smiled at her, and we got to work.
It was amazing to be together like that, alone, at ease, without having to worry someone might interrupt us, knowing we were doing nothing wrong.
After all, my brother now knew about us, so we weren’t lying anymore.
I didn’t have anything to feel bad about, right?
I was kidding myself. I knew that. Making excuses to keep from feeling like an asshole. But I needed this. I needed this moment of intimacy with Kam. As for the guilt, the consequences—I’d deal with them tomorrow.
I put on some music, and we had dinner at the little table beside the sofa. I wasn’t ashamed of the place, but I was anxious to know what she thought of it, to see how she’d feel in that small space and to find out if our lives were really as incompatible as I’d always feared.
But they weren’t. Not at all. Kam even slipped off her boots and sat on her knees on the sofa, spooning big bites of macaroni and cheese as she told me all about her interview at Yale in a few months.
Another thorn in my side, because it reminded me that she would be leaving. She’d be gone, dammit. And there I’d be living in a piece-of-shit caravan. It wasn’t much, but it gave me my own private space.
There was one thing, though: I hadn’t told Mom yet. Taylor didn’t know anything, either. And I had the feeling that I should keep it a secret for now.
“Since when are you into campers?” Kam asked, finishing her plate and setting it on the counter.
“I’ve always kind of wanted one,” I said, cleaning up what little there was—just the dishes, one glass, and one empty bottle of beer. “I’d been considering getting one for a while; rent costs a fortune, and it’s not like the school pays me that well…”
“I love it!” she exclaimed, interrupting me. “It’s so homey, and it’s so…you!”
“Yeah. Wait till the first time you get up in the morning and you find a field mouse in the toilet.”
Kam hugged her legs and squirmed, looking all around, which made me laugh.
“Relax,” I said, “I’ve got the situation under control.” That was true. But the first night I’d spent here, I wouldn’t have wished on anyone.
“What does your mom think? And…” I knew she was going to say Tay, but she stopped herself.
“They don’t know,” I replied, sitting back on the sofa.
She had made a little hollow there for herself, settling in against the wall.
I wanted to get close and kiss her. But I went on, “With Taylor going to college next year, I’m kind of worried about leaving her alone.
I might just kind of come and go and maybe not fully move out. ”
“Wow,” Kam said. “That’s so sweet of you. A lot of guys would just move out, period.” She looked almost proud of me.
“Well, I’ll probably spend some more time out here for now, since things between Taylor and me are so tense, and I know Mom has been worried about that.”
Kam looked down, realizing my not-so-subtle way of bringing up the topic we really needed to talk about.
“Your brother will never forgive me for this,” she said.
“What do you mean by this?” I asked.
“What I feel for you…”
“He’s going to have to learn to live with it, Kam. I’ve had to live with knowing you love him. Knowing you’ve kissed him, that you’ve had sex with him.”
She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. Then she said, “Can I confess something to you?”
I nodded and waited.
“It never felt right.”
“What didn’t?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“The sex…” Her cheeks blushed a beautiful pink as she said this. “It felt like…like…”
“Like what?”
Her hesitation told me that she knew what she was about to say would mark our destinies.
“Like I was doing something wrong,” she said.
I shook my head. I’m not sure why, but I think it was because I’d been hoping she’d say something else—something about me. I tried to push that feeling aside with a joke: “Don’t tell me you felt like you were doing something sinful!”
She grinned briefly and said, “No. I felt like I was cheating on you.”
I held my breath. She covered her face with her hands and squealed, “I know! It’s ridiculous!”
Feeling an inner peace I hadn’t experienced for a long time, I grabbed her by the hands and told her, “No. No, it isn’t.
It can’t be. Because I’ve felt the same way…
with every girl I’ve slept with, Kam. You left your mark on me.
It’s just that I was too young to know back then that I had already met the love of my life. ”
“But, Thiago, that’s crazy, that’s…”
“It’s my truth,” I interrupted her, bringing her hands to my lips and kissing her knuckles. “And it can be yours, too, if you want.”
The seconds before she spoke were some of the most uncertain I’d ever felt.