32. JULES #3
‘Sure, and my nose is real. Loving yours, by the way. This is why I prefer hiking to sports like tennis. I come out in one piece.’ Her gaze swivels to me, and I wonder if there’s anything Tiago keeps to himself.
‘She has a boyfriend,’ he hisses.
‘Well then, Tiago, you need to make her a better offer.’
‘What are we talking about?’ Phew, it’s Trey. Someone I know. A semi-credible voice who can set the record straight.
‘Aren’t you glad Tiago’s found Jules? He was such a manwhore,’ says Espy.
‘?Dígame! I remember when he took the entire Melbourne Women’s Football Club to the Chinese Grand Prix. They barely fit on our plane!’
I can feel Tiago’s heated gaze on me, watching cautiously. It takes everything in me not to burst out laughing.
‘Don’t freak her out!’ Espy cries, smacking Trey’s arm.
‘I’m not freaked out,’ I say, swallowing the most delicious bite of patacone. ‘Tell me more.’
‘No,’ Tiago butts in, ‘we don’t have to—’
‘What about the summer break where he disappeared on the boat for Labour Day, and washed up a week later with three swimsuit models,’ Trey chips in.
‘That’s not…’ Tiago falters. ‘That was a long time ago.’
‘Yo.’ Another brother slings his arm around Trey. ‘What about that club in Vegas—’
Tiago turns to me as the others pile on. ‘Pure embellishment.’
‘I hope you used protection all those times,’ I say, only half joking. ‘You could be a father of thirty by now.’
‘Shut up.’ He pushes me and I can’t stifle a laugh.
‘Someone has commitment issues,’ I sing.
‘Do not. I just get… distracted.’
‘I think it’s more that all your relational needs are met,’ I hypothesise to the sound of another brother excitedly regaling a story about a boys’ weekend in Atlantic City.
Tiago tilts his head at me in silent encouragement to go on.
‘Your family give you love, friendship, security, support, advice, problem-solving… If you were in a bind, there’s no end of people you could call. All you’re missing is sex.’
Tiago pauses for a few seconds. ‘You should be a therapist.’
‘A good marketer understands psychology.’
I notice JC in my periphery, scrutinising me from within the group.
People have been watching me all afternoon, but this feels different.
Wary. What Tiago does and doesn’t tell his manager is none of my business, but I do wish he’d hurry the fuck up.
JC’s looking at me like I said his youngest brother is in fact taller than him.
‘Tiago!’ one guy hollers. ‘What was that stripper called?’
A cross between exasperation and amusement passes over Tiago’s face. ‘Fuck you guys! Stop talking out of your asses!’ He launches at him, and the boys crowd around, laughing and cheering.
‘They’re such apes.’ Espy shakes her luxurious curls, giving me a waft of strawberry. ‘He really likes you, you know.’
My stomach flips and contracts. ‘He’s a good friend, but that’s all we are. He’s free to manwhore until his heart’s content.’
She purses her lips, eyes wide. ‘Eh? He hasn’t slept with anyone else since February. You’re special, chica.’
I can’t hear the boys jeering or feel the music pulsing anymore. ‘What?’
‘He made this decision to cut out everything contributing to his reputation decline – parties, drinking, girls, etcetera. As far as I know, that ended in Monaco with you.’
Is ANYTHING private? Did he tell them my bra size? My passport number? If he’s told them about Tom, and it gets out, I’m going to tear that boy to shreds.
‘I’m surprised he lasted five whole months,’ Espy goes on, scooping the crema up with her finger. ‘Isa was keeping a close eye, too. He didn’t so much as dance with a girl until he met you.’ She makes a face like that’s significant, and I don’t know what to do with it.
I look at Tiago, obliviously dancing with his little nephew, and despite rising questions and better judgement, my ovaries clench.
Why did he end his clean run with me? It was meant to be a one-night stand, nothing special. We didn’t even like each other then. This doesn’t make sense. We’re not lovers, we’re not courting, we’re not anything. Unless…
Unless he feels differently.
I can’t do differently. What we have right now is all we’ll ever have. As much as I love being here, part of this family, and as much as I like him – and fancy him like no one else – this isn’t me. This isn’t my life. It can’t be.
I need a life I can fit in neat boxes. I’m rigorous schedules, timed workouts, organised wardrobes, tracked sleep, monitored nutrition.
I can’t entertain being with someone like Tiago.
Sure, he’s sexy and fun; I’ve never laughed so much with someone; he didn’t ridicule me for staying with Damian, and he understands my mum dying isn’t something I need to just get over.
But I know myself, and I know what happens when I let chaos take over.
Why in the world am I panicking? No one said anything about being more. He’s never once mentioned he feels differently, or brought up his abstinence, or posed dating. He even snapped at his sister for suggesting it earlier. Maybe I’m panicking because…
Or maybe I’m dehydrated. Brits aren’t built to sweat this much.