11. Teala
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Teala
I’m dripping sweat, pacing the lobby of the studio, a watering can in the shape of a flamingo in one hand and a spray bottle in the other.
I love my plants. I keep them alive. I’m not an animal person yet.
Give me a complicated houseplant, and I’ll crush that shit every single time.
I spray one large flowering plant and water the soil of the one next to it.
Charlotte rushes in and halts when she sees my appearance. “I knew where I was picking you up from, but I didn’t think you’d be fresh from a class, Teala,” she scolds.
I look down and shrug. It’ll dry fast.
I stow my watering items once I splash the orchid on a low shelf. “I’ll throw on my sweater and I’ll be good. It’s lunch. Not tea with the queen,” I reply.
She blows me off and makes a beeline to my computer behind the counter.
My friends have been my friends for so long that a lot of the normal lines are blurred when it comes to boundaries.
Most of the time I don’t care, but since my new relationship sham, I’m finding that I notice things I never did before.
“I have to see if the package is delivered yet. I’m trying to intercept before Tim comes over,” she explains. She knows the password to unlock the computer.
“Your cell phone not working?”
She doesn’t respond right away. “It’s in the car, and I just thought about it. Why?” She leans to the left to peek at me from behind the large Mac screen. “You don’t want me on the computer?”
I lick my lips. “I don’t care what you do. It was just a question.”
My mom rounds the corner. She’s fresh from the shower and has on a cute maxi dress. She hands me my sweater with a megawatt smile. Charlotte beams at my mother and hops off the stool to give her a hug.
“Oh, sweetie, you look amazing! Teala told me about your promotion. Congratulations!” My mother coos at my friend. “You couldn’t make the class? It was so good. Teala really did a fantastic job!”
Ah, my mother. She compliments my friend, but then feels guilty, so she works in a compliment for me, too. It stems from my self-conscious teenage days. I like hearing nice things about myself too much to tell her she doesn’t have to do it anymore.
Charlotte brushes down the sides of her sundress. “Thank you, Viola,” she says, looking down at the floor. My mother’s beauty makes most people uncomfortable. “You look just as beautiful as ever. Teala always runs great practices. I’m hoping to catch one next week.”
My mother and Charlotte dive into a full-on conversation, so I disappear to straighten myself using the makeup bag I leave under the counter for times like these.
A little powder, some mascara, a brush pulled through my hair a few times, and I’m ready.
I wonder if people view me like they view my mother.
I know I don’t affect people in the same manner she does.
The truth of the matter is I would have attracted a different man, a good man by now, if I did.
It reminds me how absurdly stupid my father is, and a rush of rage enters my system.
He’s a man who doesn’t place value on things that matter, one who doesn’t appreciate what he has until it’s gone.
Macs hasn’t called or texted in a couple of days.
Not since he’d sent the skydiving photo.
It’s taken everything in me not to send him a random photo.
My stomach turns when I think what he must be doing while on his work trip.
I wonder how many women he’s been with, how many lips he’s kissed like he kissed mine.
Not that a kiss can change anything. That type of fairy tale doesn’t exist in my world, but kissing Macs was a devastating blow to my ego.
His lips on mine cause a palpable weakness.
I would have bought anything he was selling. I get angry thinking about it.
He’s a forbidden fruit. As soon as I have sex with him, I’ll be able to leave him and never look back.
That’s what I tell myself anyway. I know he’s getting back from his trip sometime today, but I didn’t tell my mom in case him showing up to meet her didn’t work out.
I’m glad I didn’t count my damn chickens before they hatched.
The blush and lip gloss is applied, and I look halfway decent.
Prettier than most women, I’d fathom a guess.
It’s not conceit if you know it as a truth .
From the locker room in the back of the studio, I hear the rumble of a male voice in the lobby. My heart skips a beat and then another. Charlotte laughs. My mother isn’t as obvious as my friend, so I can’t hear her voice. She’s too ladylike.
Laying a hand over my chest, I gather my wits. It has to be him. If it’s not, I will not be upset. I will not be upset. If it is him, why wouldn’t he text me? What type of man shows up at a woman’s work without a complimentary call or message? It’s plain rude.
I grab my bag and swing the door open in an exaggerated huff. I play at nonchalance as I round the corner. It’s twenty degrees cooler up here where the heaters aren’t pumping. My skin prickles at the cool blast, and I stop short when I see Macs Newstead.
He’s talking animatedly to my mother while Charlotte stands off to the side biting her lip, ravaging his body with her gaze.
I stay still, undetected for the moment.
The man takes my breath away. In jeans and a T-shirt, he does casual better than any man I’ve ever met.
I smell his cologne—a mellow musk with a hint of sweetness…
like brown sugar. His gaze finds mine over the top of my mother’s head.
I swallow down the lump of hesitance and smile.
“What are you doing here?” I try for annoyance, but it comes out more Elle Woods than anything else.
Macs presses his lips into a firm line as he lets his gaze dip to my body.
He doesn’t even hide it in front of my mother.
She turns to look at me but immediately looks back at Macs.
She’s deciphering body language, my face.
She’s picking apart this moment so fully I know I’ll hear an earful later.
I can’t care, or take my eyes off him. He’s looking through the surface—it’s as if he’s seeing inside,my every thought entering his own.
“I wanted to surprise you,” he says.
My mother faces me again. That draws my focus, and I clear my throat.
“I invited him to lunch with us. I hope you don’t mind, honey,” Mom says.
She already knows I don’t mind. Viola Sebrof just planned our wedding.
She blinks, her smile widening. She just picked out my wedding dress.
Another smile. She clamps her hand over her mouth, like that has the ability to hide her excitement.
“Are you ready to go?” she asks, finally gaining the good sense to live in the now instead of in her dream world.
I nod at her and roll my eyes. She smiles again, the grin melting all annoyance.
“Macs, I see you’ve met my mother.”
“Did I ever,” he replies, waggling his eyebrows.
She didn’t catch it, but Charlotte did, and my friend laughs.
“What’s funny?” Mom asks. “Charlotte introduced me to your friend. Why didn’t you tell me he was so—” she stutters.
This is going downhill fast. I have to nip it in the bud.
“Out of contact?” I supply for her.
Macs steps out of the circle they’ve made around him and approaches me. He’s doing it again. Moving like he owns the world. I close my eyes for a second or two.
He lays a hand on my shoulder. The warmth sends shockwaves to every part of my body. The butterflies in my belly turn to vultures, with long wings and big, pecking beaks .
“I’m sorry. I got busy at work,” Macs whispers.
I know they heard.
“Do you want me to come to lunch with you?” At the sincerity of his voice, I glance up at his face. Dimples greet me.
“Don’t use those things to get what you want. Of course I don’t mind if you have lunch with us. I mean, you might regret it in the end, but this is what we’re doing, right?” I ask, speaking so he is the only one who hears. “I wasn’t sure what was going on. You kind of dropped off the map there.”
The smile falls off his face. He has this stoic supermodel face. Blue Steel without trying and no duck lips. I make a mental note to use this as a teasing arsenal for later. He knows how good-looking he is, but I’m not sure he knows how everyone else sees his beauty.
“I apologized already,” he says. It’s the only explanation I’ll receive.
I nod. He doesn’t even owe me that. The lines with this thing are blurring too. The lines of my whole life are one big fuzzy mindfuck. “I’m starving. Let’s go,” I remark, grasping for control.
He takes my hand in his, and I don’t miss how tightly he’s holding on.
Charlotte and my mom ask Macs a million questions.
He answers some, is cheeky with others that he can’t answer, but he’s completely disarming.
I find myself smiling at him while he talks, and my mother notices.
She is beaming like a lighthouse after lunch is finished.
She tells Macs stories about me from when I was small.
This is when I realize she’s planned more than my wedding today.
She might have her grandkids named as well.
It’s my fault for not giving her anything of substance all of these years.
No boyfriends. No reason to believe I was ever ready to take the next step with a man.
She sees a man like Macs and my interest in such a man, and it’s all over.
Maybe that’s my problem too. Even if it’s fake, for the first time I’m letting myself wonder what is normal in a relationship.
What I realize is that it’s not that bad.
Other than my heart being on the line and the severity of what that could lead to.