6 | First Weekend Trashing History
Charles.
He stood there, drink in hand, jaw tight. Tie loosened. He looked at me. Only me. Like Theo wasn’t even there.
“Tessa.” His voice was controlled. Too controlled. “I see you weren’t joking about bringing him.”
I straightened in my chair. “Charles—”
“Though I have to say, this looks pretty desperate.” His gaze flicked to Theo for half a second—dismissive—then back to me, like he’d already decided he didn’t matter.
“You barely even talk. What, you paid him? Or is he just here for the free drinks?”
The words hit like a slap.
My face burned.
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“Save it.” He took a sip of his drink, and I saw the slight unsteadiness in his hand. He’d been drinking. More than one. “You think I don’t know what this is? You’re trying to make me jealous. It’s pathetic, Tess.”
“Watch your mouth.” Theo’s voice cut through—quiet, controlled, but with steel underneath.
I put my hand on his arm. “I can handle this.”
He looked at me. Something fierce crossed his expression—protective, angry—but then he nodded once. Sat back. His hand found mine under the table, squeezed once, then let go.
Charles’s mouth opened. Closed.
My mouth stayed shut, but I held his gaze. Didn’t give him anything.
Charles’s eyes dropped.
To the table.
To the floor beneath it.
To my bare feet.
His expression hardened into that look I recognized. The one that made my stomach turn.
“Seriously?” His voice took on that patronizing tone I knew too well. “No shoes? That’s not very ladylike.”
The air went cold.
Theo went very, very still beside me.
My hands curled into fists under the table, and I could feel my nails digging into my palms.
“I think you should leave,” I said quietly.
Charles’s jaw tightened. “I’m just trying to—”
“Now.”
He stared at me for a long moment. Surprise flickered in his eyes, then anger trying to decide if it was worth the scene. Then his expression settled into indifference.
“Fine. Enjoy your… whatever this is.”
He turned and walked away.
I sat there, my hands still unsteady under the table, staring at the champagne glass in front of me. My palms hurt. I uncurled my fingers and saw small crescent marks where my nails had been.
Theo’s hand covered mine. Warm. Steady.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
“Yeah. I just—” I took a breath. “I think I’m done here.”
“Okay.”
I looked at my shoes, still abandoned under the table. Charles had been with me when I bought them. Had picked them out, actually. These, he’d said, holding them up like a prize. They make your legs look incredible.
“I really hate these shoes,” I said quietly.
Theo followed my gaze. “Then get rid of them.”
“They were expensive.”
“You hate them.”
I looked at him. At the simple logic in his expression. At the complete absence of judgment.
“Oh my god.” A laugh bubbled up in my chest—surprised, almost manic. “I think I’m gonna throw them away.”
“Do it.”
I bent down and grabbed the shoes. Stood up. Looked around the reception hall until I spotted what I was looking for—a large decorative trash can near the exit, wrapped in champagne-colored fabric to match the tables.
Across the room. Past at least thirty people.
I looked down at my bare feet. At the polished floor stretching between here and there.
“Take me there,” I said.
Theo’s eyebrows rose. “What?”
“Take me there.” I gestured with the shoes toward the trash can. Smiling. “Please.”
A grin spread across his face. Not his careful, adult smile. The one I remembered from when we were kids—bright, conspiratorial, the one that meant he was about to do anything I asked for.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He stood without another word.
In one smooth motion, he bent and lifted me—one arm under my knees, the other around my back. His grip tightened slightly as I shifted against him.
“Oh my god—” I grabbed his shoulder, already laughing. The shoes dangled from my other hand.
“Hold on tight.”
My fingers curled into his shoulder, closer than necessary.
He carried me through the reception hall. Past the tables. Past the dance floor and the band. Past couples swaying to a slow song.
I could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing against my side. Too close. Too easy to notice.
People turned to look. A few laughed. Someone whistled.
I was laughing too hard to care. Laughing like I hadn’t in months. Like I was allowed to take up space and be ridiculous and not worry about being ladylike or appropriate or any of the things I’d been trying so hard to be.
And suddenly we were kids again. Him carrying me piggyback through his backyard after I’d stepped on a bee. Both of us laughing so hard his mom had to come outside to see what the fuss was about.
When we reached the trash can, Theo stopped but didn’t put me down.
“Ready?” he asked.
I looked at the shoes in my hand. Two hundred and forty dollars of black patent leather and bad memories.
“So ready.”
I dropped them in.
The sound they made hitting the bottom was incredibly satisfying.
“Yes!” I threw my arms up like I’d just scored a goal.
Theo was laughing now too—really laughing, his shoulders shaking with it. The kind of laugh I remembered. Unguarded. Free.
Emma appeared beside us, eyes bright with delight.
“Now that’s an upgrade!” she called out. “Good to see you happy for once, Tess!”
Then she was gone again, swallowed by the crowd.
“Feel better?” Theo asked, still holding me.
“So much better,” I said, breath still uneven.
Then I looked down. At my bare feet dangling in the air. At the polished floor below. At the glass doors leading to the parking lot—asphalt, gravel, God knows what else.
Reality check.
“Oh,” I said. “Wait. How the hell am I supposed to get to your car?”
Theo’s arms tightened around me. That grin still playing at his mouth.
“I’ll carry you, of course.”
“Theo—”
“You already threw away your shoes, Tessa. Bit late to reconsider.”
I laughed—genuine. “This is ridiculous.”
“Completely ridiculous,” he agreed.
But he didn’t put me down.
He adjusted his grip, shifted my weight, and started walking toward the exit.
“You know,” I said as we moved through the hall, “you used to carry me like this all the time.”
“You were lighter then.”
I smacked his shoulder. “Rude.”
“Just saying.”
“I was ten!”
“I’m not complaining.”
I laughed again, and realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this light. This easy.
We left that reception hall together—me barefoot in his arms, him steady and sure. Through the doors. Across the parking lot. Past a few lingering guests.
He didn’t set me down until we reached the car.
Even then, he held me steady while he opened the passenger door with one hand, then lowered me carefully onto the seat.
I pulled the door shut and sat there for a moment, breathing.
Then I reached up and started pulling pins from my hair.
One. Two. Three.
My hair tumbled down around my shoulders—messy, probably tangled, free.
“Much better,” I said, running my fingers through it.
Theo slid into the driver’s seat. Looked over at me.
His expression softened. His eyes tracked over my face, my red hair falling loose, and he smiled—that real one again.
“Much better,” he said quietly.
He started the engine, and we drove.
The music played softly. The city lights blurred past the windows. My hair was a mess. My feet were bare. And somehow I felt completely relaxed.
“I needed that,” I said.
Theo glanced over. “With you, it somehow always is, Tess.”
I turned to look out the window before he could see my face.
“See you next weekend?” I asked.
“Of course. My company party.” He paused. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Is that okay?”
“Sure.” I looked down at my bare feet and laughed. “I’ll need to pick up some fancy new shoes first.”
“Since I made you throw away the old ones—” He hesitated. “Can I buy the new ones for you?”
I turned to look at him. “Isn’t that a little weird?”
“Maybe.” His mouth curved. “But let me anyway. I have this friend who owes me a favor.”
I studied his profile—the way the streetlights caught his features, the quiet certainty in his expression.
“Fine,” I said.
We pulled up in front of my building. The porch light was flickering like always, casting uneven shadows across the steps.
Theo turned off the engine. Looked at the pavement between the car and my door.
“Do you need me to carry you?” he asked. “The sidewalk’s probably—”
“No.” I smiled. “I think I need to feel the ground under my feet for a bit.”
He nodded, understanding in his eyes. “Yeah. I get that.”
I opened the door. Stepped out onto the cool pavement. The concrete was rough against my bare soles, real and solid.
I turned back.
“Theo?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For tonight. For… all of it.”
He smiled. “Anytime.”
I watched him drive away, standing barefoot on the sidewalk until his taillights disappeared around the corner.
Then I went inside, climbed the stairs to my apartment.
I caught myself smiling and couldn’t quite stop.
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He carried her through an entire wedding reception without hesitating. Still think this is just a deal between friends?
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