27. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN #2
Effie huffed. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be able to hide my hatred. ‘Invisible String’ is a great song and only improves my opinion of your queen.”
“It makes me think of you now,” he said. It was true. Something cosmic was at work bringing him and Effie closer.
“That makes it even better.”
He played with her fingers that were intertwined with his.
She rested beside him, her head at the foot of the bed while Theo leaned against the pillows at his headboard.
Her knees were tucked, so her bare feet could shelter beneath his thigh to keep warm.
With their arms stretched, their fingers barely touched.
“You’re too far away,” he said, trying his best not to whine, despite the need for her to be nearer.
Effie rolled her eyes before crawling onto her knees beside him, then scooting into his waiting arm and leaning into his shoulder.
“So,” Theo said, not sure how to test the waters without diving full in. He’d had a question on his mind ever since that first craft night. “What does Effie taste like to you? ”
Effie sucked in a breath, before letting it loose. “Farro,” she whispered. Theo couldn’t understand the disappointment that clung to the word. He rested his chin on her head. “Care to explain why that’s so frustrating?”
Effie squirmed a little before she continued.
“Most of my deepest associations with words were formed when I was little with a very limited palate. And as I got older I realized that a person’s name is usually a base note, but once I get to know them better it gets more layered.
Brayden, for example tastes like butter.
But as I’ve gotten to know him more there’s hints of citrus and dill—bright flavors. ”
“Okay?” Theo wondered how salted chocolate caramels would evolve as they grew closer, but he didn’t ask.
“My mom has made farro my whole life—early association. But it was bland.”
“I think farro is a superior grain—nutty, elevated.”
“Sure, but bland on its own.”
Theo traced circles on her back where his hand rested. She nuzzled farther into his shoulder. He waited for her to say more, but her lips were zippered. “You’re not bland, Effie.”
“You sound like my therapist,” she huffed.
“What else does your therapist say about it?” Curiosity baited him, but he treaded carefully. He hadn’t realized that asking about her name was such a minefield, and he didn’t want to send her running.
“That feeling like the flavor of my name is missing something—toppings or dressings, a zest or a salt or a spice—probably means I’m not seeing myself fully.”
“I’d agree to that,” Theo suggested.
“You thought my name sounded like eggplant. Who likes eggplants?”
“I do!”
“Yeah, breaded with cheese and marinara. Toppings. Even you agree I’m a bland base note.” She tried to wriggle free of his grasp, but he held tight.
His lips found the soft waves of her hair again as he mumbled, “You’re not.
Maybe you’re just not a finished recipe yet.
You haven’t found the special sauce . . .
or maybe , being a bland base note means you get to move through life trying on new identities and always ending up with something mouth-watering. ”
Theo felt her muscles relax as she sank back into his shoulder. “That’s better than my perception.”
“And what’s your perception?”
“That I’m not interesting enough for a more delicious name.”
“That couldn’t be further from the truth.” He hoped the sincerity translated in the huskiness of his voice.
“You don’t know me well enough to know that.” A rebuttal rushed to his lips, but he clamped it down. No use arguing if that’s what she believed.
The crickets sang to them from the green space of the apartment building, a steady calm as Theo curled his fingers into the flesh of Effie’s hip and tried to redirect the ship of their conversation.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Theo asked, his desire to uncover all her facets as present as ever.
She was quiet for a long moment before saying, “Sometimes I’m afraid I will die young . . . like my dad . . . I also think pistachio ice cream has to be the most disgusting flavor ever invented.”
While both things seemed true, Theo wondered why she felt the need to counter the heavy with the light. Why she didn’t let herself live in that first moment. But maybe that was how she kept her balance.
“Your turn,” she whispered.
“I worry I won’t like myself when I’m older, that I’ll always miss being twenty-seven.
” It was a symptom of enjoying the way Effie looked at him, with admiration and desire.
He wondered how long it would last if his jaw gave way to jowls and his hair thinned.
Not that he was manifesting any of that .
“I don’t think that will happen. You’re far too self-aware to not keep embracing who you are.” Theo snuggled her a little harder. “Something you hate that everyone thinks you should love?” she asked.
“Fireworks. They’re loud. They’re barely impressive, and they smell terrible. Something you love that you’re supposed to hate?”
“Doing my taxes.” Theo pulled away and gave her a quizzical look. “It’s like a puzzle! Okay, mine are pretty straightforward, but Hope’s? I love finding her deductions.”
“That’s got to be the only left-brained thing about you.”
“Probably.”
He looked to Effie, every possibility of their future dancing over her impossibly beautiful face. Theo didn’t want her believing that eggplant or farro or her personhood lacked flavor and meaning, so he said, “Did I ever tell you about the eggplant?”
“No?” Effie sat a little straighter, crossing her legs in front of her to face Theo. “I assume there’s some cosmic message there?”
“You assume correctly.”
“Ah, my handsome spiritualist.” She said it with such affection, and a hint of self-consciousness like she was taste-testing my, as she cupped his cheek then ran her fingers through his hair without a beat of hesitation. He leaned into the touch and almost forgot what he’d wanted to tell her.
“The day I asked you out, I pulled an eggplant card. Fate was telling me to find you.”
“Naturally,” Effie teased, but he knew she believed in fate as much as he did. He didn’t call her on it.
“I looked into it and in European folklore, it is associated with love and romance. They believed placing an eggplant under the pillow of an unmarried woman would make her dream of her future husband.” Theo suddenly felt self-conscious about sharing this.
Insinuating that he saw himself as fit for that role in her life.
If she thought it presumptuous, she didn’t let on.
She gave Theo one of her wistful smiles and reclaimed her spot against his shoulder.
“I better not find an eggplant under my pillow.”
“Never. Wouldn’t want to run the risk of you dreaming of anyone but me.”
“It’s not a very big risk,” she mumbled, almost like she wasn’t sure she wanted him to hear. “But thanks for making eggplant mean something.”
“It wasn’t me, it was fate,” Theo countered and Effie laughed.
They settled into a comfortable quiet and Theo found himself wanting to freeze time. Effie gauged the darkness at his window. “It’s late,” she said.
Damn. “I hoped you wouldn’t notice.” It had recently felt like any amount of time with Effie wasn’t enough. She’d been there since long before he’d made them dinner, but he still wanted more. More conversation. More flirting. More of her .
Effie traced her finger over Theo’s chest and the sparks that radiated from her touch had him hugging her closer. He dropped his lips to hers. “You could stay,” he suggested.
Schilling no longer occupied his couch, despite Theo’s insistence that he didn’t have to trade his place in Theo’s apartment for an air mattress in a room that likely still smelled of paint fumes. But Schilling’s spirits had lifted after making some big decisions and he wanted to move forward.
But it meant that Theo’s home was his again, and he and Effie could canoodle carefree. Not that he had any specific intentions for the rest of the night, but he did desperately want her to stay. He already imagined her waking up beside him and it did wondrous things to his heart.
“I could,” Effie murmured like perhaps the thought hadn’t actually occurred to her. “Do you really want me to?”
Theo pulled back and let the shock of her inquiry color his features.
“Do I want you to?” He scoffed then sighed dramatically before tumbling her over onto her back, nuzzling into her neck with a flurry of playful kisses as she squealed with laughter.
Theo pressed himself onto his forearms that rested on either side of Effie’s head.
The weight of his chest pressed into hers and he could feel her every breath.
Theo brushed his thumb across her cheek.
“I really want you to stay,” he said, his voice serious, if not trembling with his desire.
Effie gripped him at the nape of his neck. The electricity that her closeness ignited would never grow tiresome. “Okay, I’ll stay.” She pulled him into one of her taunting, deep kisses. He could drown in them and die happy. She pulled away, pushing her hand to his chest. “Give me a minute?”
Apprehension was a blow to the gut. Why did she need a minute?
Did he push too far? Was the eggplant too much?
He rolled over so he no longer smothered Effie.
She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and hurried toward the door.
She eyed his phone that sat charging on the dresser across the room. “Can I borrow that?”
“I’m still amazed you don’t have a cell phone.”
“I have one, I just don’t see the point in using it unless I’m traveling.”
Effie shrugged like it was totally sound logic. He gave her the okay and she scooped the phone up, puzzling when it didn’t open for her face.