Chapter 6
Words are like toothpaste
Connor
I shouldn’t be watching her. But I am. I can’t help myself.
After years of pining, convincing myself that I could never be more to Tilly than her best friend’s teasing brother, she’s sleeping in my house. And we’re friends.
The thought of finally being allowed to be myself around Tilly, being there to support her, to make her smile, makes me giddy in a way I’m not proud of.
Would I prefer that we could be more to each other?
Absolutely. But friendship with the woman I’ve loved since we were teenagers is more than I ever thought I’d get.
And if that’s all it is, all that it can be, I’ll take it.
I want to step inside her room, crawl into her bed and hold her until all her worries melt away.
But I won’t. Not until she invites me. Tilly’s been through too much for me to throw myself at her now.
She needs a friend, not some creep confessing their undying love for her just hours after leaving her husband.
Which means I should probably close her door – friends don’t watch friends sleep.
One last lingering glance at her sleeping form cocooned in a duvet, and I close the door and head back to the kitchen to grab a drink.
Between a busy shift at the restaurant and helping Tilly move in, I need something to take the edge off.
But as I open the fridge, I notice that none of the food has been touched while I’ve been out.
Granted, there’s not much in there to choose from, seeing as how I haven’t been to the supermarket for days, opting instead for bringing food home from work.
I make a mental note to do a supply run in the morning.
I check the whole kitchen – fridge, cupboards, even the bin.
Nothing. She hasn’t eaten since lunch, and even that felt forced.
It’s obvious that she’s not looking after herself properly, but what isn’t obvious is why.
Tilly’s stunning in a natural, effortless kind of way, but she’s oblivious to her beauty. Always has been. And it infuriates me.
Of course, I noticed it a long time ago, just like I notice everything about her.
I remember the first time I saw her differently, as more than Ivy’s friend.
I was fourteen, Tilly a little younger, maybe nine or ten, so my feelings weren’t the romantic kind per se, but my perception of the scrappy, slightly awkward, freckly girl changed completely in a moment.
Tilly had come to our house after school and, seeing me tease Ivy, as older brothers do, she tore a strip off me.
“My mum says words are like toothpaste,” she’d said, waving her finger in my face. “You can’t put them back once they’re out. So learn to keep some thoughts inside your head.”
It was her audacity and fierce protectiveness, I think, that drew me to her after that. I haven’t seen her show that kind of confidence for a devastatingly long time.
Anyway, it hasn’t been my place to set her straight over the years, to tell her how incredible she is, no matter how much I’ve wanted to.
But things are different now. We’re friends, and I finally have my chance to show her her worth.
And not just in the hope that she’ll finally see me as something more, but for herself.
So she can finally look in the mirror and stop seeing herself through Rhys-tinted glasses, seeing instead the woman who’s always been right there.
She won’t see the unruly, mousey hair she’s always complaining to Ivy about; she’ll see the gentle mocha waves so soft I have to resist the urge to stroke them.
Her smiles won’t be kept inside because she’s afraid of drawing attention to her mouth; they’ll be a permanent fixture, so bright and radiant that looking directly at her full lips will be impossible.
And the body she hides behind baggy clothes and folded arms?
The soft curves I long to touch? She’ll display them proudly, viewing them with love and kindness.
The truth is, Tilly’s always been conscious of how she looks, and Ivy’s even hinted at Tilly having body dysmorphia before now.
Tilly’s convinced herself, and been encouraged by someone, that she’s overweight, but she couldn’t be more wrong.
She’s not supermodel thin, and neither would I want her to be, but she’s soft in all the right places – healthy, beautiful and normal, in a world that’s forgotten what that even looks like.
And if she ever gives me the opportunity, I will worship every part of her until she not only knows she is but feels attractive and sexy.
Her prick of a husband should have been the one to do that years ago, and knowing that he didn’t, knowing that he fed her insecurities, brings out a rage in me that very rarely reaches the surface.
I’m always the calm friend. The dependable one.
The one who always thinks before speaking or acting.
But when I saw him speak to Tilly like shit this morning, something inside me snapped and my instincts screamed at me to drop him to his knees and force him to apologise.
But that wouldn’t have helped, so I restrained myself for her sake. Barely.
So I’m taking out my anger on a video game instead, vowing to help Tilly build a life she actually wants. Whether that includes me, or not.