Chapter 8
Note to self:
Do not get distracted by Theo’s hands…
You know what? Don’t look directly at Theo at all.
“Your mom doesn’t do anything halfway, does she?” Theo asked as we pulled onto the freeway.
Grinning, I slid on my sunglasses. “You know her motto. Why keep it simple when we can make it as complicated as possible.”
When she used her powers for good, the results were pretty damn amazing. I think my mom could solve the world food shortage, advise the president on any number of issues, and still have a full-course dinner on the table. However, when you were the object of her obsession, she was a downright menace. Her intentions were good though. I’d give her that.
“Is she still doing the needlepoint?” he asked, amusement laced in his voice.
Mom had discovered needlepoint a year ago and it had consumed her. She talked about needlepoint, watched needlepoint videos, joined online needlepoint groups, made her own needlepoint designs. Last year, all of us had received framed needlepoint pictures on our birthdays and Christmas. I hung one of mine, a scene of a dog dressed as a bumble bee with the words BEE HAPPY underneath it, in the bathroom.
But she hadn’t stopped there. Convinced she could make a business out of it, she became a needlepoint machine, cranking out one after the other, and then peddling them at craft shows. While she’d often leave with several boxes of projects to sell, she’d return with even more things she’d purchased. Dad would huff and growl over the money she was spending. But it seemed to make Mom happy.
Like the sewing phase had. The interior design phase. The pottery phase. The pastry chef phase. The knitting. Oh, the knitting. So many hats and mittens and scarves, and we lived in Texas.
“She’s moved on to candle making. The last one she showed me were candles in the shapes of hedgehogs and squirrels.”
“Squirrels?”
“Yep, and chipmunks, bunnies, birds, trees. She’s in her woodland creatures era.” I leaned forward and fiddled with the radio.
“Nope.” He swatted my hand away. “Driver picks the music.”
“That’s not fair. You know I don’t drive. That’s how you got into this mess.”
“What mess?”
I snorted. “Me. I’m the mess. You have to cart me halfway across the country. I bet you were looking forward to a quiet, solo trip and you managed to get stuck with me.”
“I don’t mind. I don’t get you all to myself that often,” he said in a low, quiet voice.
Oh, that voice sent a shiver through me. He didn’t mean anything by that, of course. Stare out the window like a good friend and ignore it, Ramos.
But I couldn’t help myself. I snuck a peek at him and studied his profile. The scruffy jaw, the straight nose, the golden hue of his skin. His hat covered his eyes, which was a shame. But I could picture them anyway. He was better-than-model handsome. The sort of guy who grew more handsome every time he made me laugh or feel special without even realizing it.
Like saying stuff like that.
That was not good. Stay alert, Ramos.
But still I kept looking.
His left hand curled around the steering wheel, his right resting on his knee. The sun touched the silver ring he wore on his right ring finger—a gift from his mom years ago. I’m not sure he ever took it off.
One of my (numerous and detailed) Theo fantasies began to form before I could stop it. I’d slide my hand across the console between us and cover his hand. It would be warm from the sun, larger than mine, a little rougher too. I’d trace the veins I found there, reveling in the strength and solidness.
He’d shoot me one of his devastating half-smiles and my breath would catch. He’d turn his hand over and link our fingers, resting it on his thigh. We’d spend the next eight and a half hours like this, my hand nestled in his. In this fantasy, we’d never have to pee, nor did we run out of gas.
The dragon wings fluttered in my stomach, enjoying this fantasy very much. Then again, they’d been ever-present since he’d picked me up this morning because that meant I was within ten feet of him.
“What do you think?” he asked.
I blinked. “What?”
“About what I said.”
Crap. What had he said? I’d been too busy obsessing over a hand-holding fantasy. Who even does that? A. Hand-holding. Fantasy. That was like a dog fantasizing about half a tennis ball, or a toddler getting excited over a baby doll without a head.
This is why I limited my Theo time. It had taken years, and I do mean years, to live down the “Stalker Ali” reputation I’d earned for my Theo-Induced Antics as a teenager. My brothers hadn’t let me forget any of the embarrassing things I’d done to get his attention. I know it was all jokes and laughs for them. I played along even, but deep down, it hurt—my heart had been more bruised than I’d let on.
But it had also taken just as many years for me to set boundaries. I saw him regularly at family meals and holidays. We’d get together for game nights, a hike, to see a movie or catch a meal, but I always made sure someone else was joining us. These were the rules I’d made for myself. If he realized it, he never said a thing. It was easier since he’d moved to Houston a few years ago. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that.
Besides, I’d just been a kid when I’d been in my deepest Theo feels. We’d grown up, dated other people, shared laughs and tragedies, even a family vacation or two. As an adult, I proved I was able to handle a friendship without all these…invasive thoughts.
Theo was too important to me. If keeping him in my life meant only as a friend, then that’s exactly where he would stay. In the friend zone.
If only he wasn’t so adorable.
Also, I needed to up my fantasy game.
Theo shot me a confused look. “Did you say something about fantasies?”
My cheeks heated. Please tell me I didn’t say that out loud. When I spoke, I sounded like a mouse after a shot of helium. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”
“Are you okay?” He shot a quick glance in my direction.
I cleared my throat and grinned. “I’m good.”
His hand, the hand, rose and hovered in the air. Was he going to touch me?
He pointed at the radio. “So, you’re okay with this?”
“Sure. Sounds good.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, of course,” I said with confidence although I had no idea what I was agreeing with. He could have asked if, at the next rest stop, we both stripped naked and ran around the parking lot.
Theo made a sound of disbelief. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight.”
“Who, me? I’m like the queen of agreeability. Practically my middle name.”
He scoffed, and with reason. “I wasn’t aware of that, especially after our last road trip.”
I grinned. The last time I’d been on a road trip with Theo was a few years ago when I’d hitched a ride to Dallas to see Alec. Theo’d “surprised” me by bringing along a date. Her name was Terra. It wasn’t that I minded he brought her; it was that I would have liked to be prepared. See, the thing was, Theo had terrible taste in women. Or at least, I thought he did.
For example:
Angel Miller, his first real girlfriend, in high school. Although her given name was Angela, she insisted on answering only to Angel. With her bouncy hair, sultry smile, and love of being the center of attention, she’d naturally been a cheerleader. I hated her on principle. It made matters worse that I was deep into my Theo obsession, and she’d picked up on it. Oh, yes, she figured it out three minutes after meeting me and took the first chance she could to tell me to back off. Like I’d even been a threat. I often thought fondly of that one time when she received her new team cheerleading outfit only to find out her name had been misspelled. There’d been some mix-up, you see. Poor Angle had to wear the thing for weeks before the mistake could be corrected.
Carly Whitman: Theo had met her in college, and they’d become an item almost immediately. They dated for three years and everyone, me included, was sure they’d eventually get married. Carly wasn’t horrible at first. But her campaign to change pretty much everything about Theo started within a few months of their relationship—from his clothes, to his hair, to the personal trainer sessions she gave him for Christmas. When she insisted he change his college major to accounting so he could work for her father one day, Theo finally saw the light.
Most recently, Maddison with the Double Ds, and those Double Ds referred to more than the spelling of her name. Maddison of the hourglass figure and long legs, the pretty blue eyes, and the long blonde hair. Was I a little jealous? She was the exact opposite of me in almost every way and I guess that stung more than a little. Not that it mattered though. I was dating Alec anyway. Plus, I had zero say in who Theo spent his time with. Except she was so uninterested in doing all the things Theo liked to do—hiking or game night. But she did like to take selfies pretending to do those things. Thankfully, the relationship didn’t last as long as the other two. As a dedicated friend, I was relieved when they broke up.
So that afternoon over two years ago, I hadn’t been excited to see Terra in the car. “This is a surprise. Theo didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“Oh, it was last-minute,” Terra had said, her dark eyes watching me carefully. “I had to meet the woman Theo talks about all the time.”
Sure, my heart beat a little faster hearing that. But just as quickly, I’d reminded myself that maybe he’d told her some of the stories about our growing up days. The five of us had gotten into some pretty epic adventures.
Theo, dumbly, gave me control of the music, probably as an apology for bringing Terra along. I made him pay for it, too. For the entire four-and-a-half-hour drive. Two boy bands’ songs. On repeat.
I fidgeted in my seat. “I don’t like surprises.”
“You love surprises.”
Which was true. “I?—”
“You just didn’t like Terra.”
“There was nothing wrong with Terra,” I said. Very maturely, I might add.
“You told me she pronounced her Ts too much.”
“Nobody pronounces the T in exactly. That’s weird.” So much for mature. “As your friend, I need to have your back. Did you really want all those hard Ts in your life?”
He laughed. “Sure.”
“Anyway.” I patted my phone. “I have my boy band playlist all ready to go.”
“No. Driver picks.”
I groaned. “It’s Rush, isn’t it? It’s always Rush.”
“Hey, there’s some Dream Theater and Porcupine Tree mixed in. For variety.”
“Oh. Goody.” I slumped in resignation. “Only two thousand long, long miles to go.” He grinned. And dang it, I found I didn’t care about the music as long as I got to see that see grin.