37. Thea
Thea
If Only Being a Complete Ass Wasn’t My Best Feature
Saturday morning arrives, cool and bright.
I’d dreamed of Lazlo again. They’re becoming rarer.
I stretch and add the thirty-fourth tally.
Nine weeks left to find him and I’m starting to get concerned that I haven’t yet.
Every day I become more and more convinced that Mavrik is him, but I won’t stop looking till I confirm it.
I walk out of the building and spot Zair waiting.
His hair’s a little messy, like he ran a hand through it instead of brushing. Which he probably did.
“Ready to go?” I ask, stopping the irrational urge to fix his hair.
He nods and leads me to his car and opens the door for me with a slight smile.
“Coffee?” he offers, then laughs at his joke. Of course I want coffee.
We talk about everything and nothing on the drive to the mall and I find myself enjoying the simplicity of it.
Our conversation flows naturally, bouncing between topics with no pressure, like we’ve known each other far longer than we have.
Still, every so often, there are moments of silence that don’t feel awkward. They’re just… comfortable.
After about an hour of driving, we pull into the parking lot of a large mall in the city. It’s one of those places that has everything: big-name stores, little boutiques, and a few places that feel like hidden gems. The mall’s busy today, the parking lot crowded with people.
We make our way inside and I lead the way to the first jewelry store. Zair stays close as I sift through display cases and shelves, pulling out different bracelets and necklaces, searching for something close to what I had.
Nothing matches the one Anita gave me. Zair watches me silently, his presence grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed. After a few minutes, he steps closer.
“Want me to help?” he offers.
I hesitate, then pull up my sleeve slightly to show him the illusion of the bracelet I appear to be wearing. His brows knit together in confusion.
“You already have one. Why do you need a second?” he asks.
I glance around to make sure no one is too close, then drop the illusion for a second. The shimmer breaks, and his eyes widen slightly.
He leans a little closer. “Has that bracelet been fake the whole time I’ve known you?”
I tug the sleeve down and meet his eyes. “No questions asked, remember?”
He stares at me for a second, like he’s dying to ask more, but finally he exhales and gives me a crooked smile. “Right. No questions.”
He doesn’t push me, doesn’t even frown, just starts looking for one. It’s the kind of quiet loyalty that makes my chest ache a little. We spend a while looking before heading to the next store, where I almost immediately locate an exact duplicate of the necklace.
The bracelets, though, are a different story. They all feel wrong. Too fancy, too cheap, too… obvious.
Finally, after what feels like hours, I find it: a bracelet that’s nearly identical to the one Anita gave me.
It’s subtle but elegant, and it will blend in perfectly.
It’s not a cure, but it’s a temporary solution.
I quickly pull out the broken bracelet and see Zair’s eyes widen in alarm as he watches me double-check size and width before tucking it away.
“Can I ask questions about that?” he asks.
“Nope,” I tell him with a smile.
He shakes his head as I make my way to the register.
Afterwards, we head to the food court, where Zair buys me lunch from a Chinese stand. As soon as we sit down a girl walks over and boldly asks for Zair’s number. He politely turns her down.
“Normally, I hate shopping in the mall,” he says, taking a bite. “But I have to admit that with the added mystery of not knowing why we needed to find a matching bracelet, it’s a bit more interesting.”
“So, you’re saying the next time I need a guy to take me shopping, I just need to layer it in mystery?” I tease.
“Exactly. Dress shopping? Boring. A scavenger hunt for an elusive outfit? Exciting.”
“Well, on that note, can we spend some time treasure hunting?” I joke. “I need to track down a new jacket. Anita spilled paint on my old one, and I’ve been stuck in this hoodie ever since.”
“What’s her problem, seriously?” Zair frowns. “I thought she was obnoxious before I met you. Now she’s, what’s a word that’s worse?”
“Repugnant? Vexing? Exasperating?” I offer.
He gives me a look. “Remind me to never play Scrabble with you.”
I make a mental note to use one of those words if we ever do.
“The way she talks is just so slimy,” he goes on. “Like everything she says is engineered to hit your insecurities. How did you grow up with her? No wonder you have no idea how amazing you are.”
He says it so simply, like it’s a fact. Like it doesn’t make my heart do backflips. Only Lazlo has ever said something like that to me. But Zair keeps going, like it’s common knowledge.
“She hasn’t let up either. Keeps inviting me to every party. Even after I rejected her in front of everyone. I thought that would be the end of it.”
“You don’t have to turn down easy ass on my account,” I joke, because what else can I do.
“Please. The only ass I care about is the complete ass sitting across from me.” His tone is light, but his eyes meet mine with an intensity that isn’t friendly.
“Well, this complete ass needs to find a pair of jeans to stuff it into.” I laugh, standing and trying to brush it off. And with that, we head into a few stores.
I hadn’t noticed it before. But after the girl at lunch, I notice a lot of girls are in whatever store we’re in. We’re trying to shop and have a pleasant conversation and keep getting interrupted. We’re discussing why he chose Thornfell when another girl walks up.
“Seriously,” he says as soon as she starts flirting. “Do I need to put my hand on her ass or something to make it obvious that I’m on a date.”
“Oh, well.” The girl shrinks.
Zair reaches out and links our fingers together. “My girlfriend and I are trying to shop and have a conversation.” He pulls me from the store.
“Sorry,” he mumbles after we’re in a new store that’s still empty of followers. “You’re not getting that hand back.”
I shop one handed and I buy enough to bury the jewelry receipts in my credit card statement, hoping Vivien won’t look close enough to get suspicious.
As we walk out of the last store, I find myself glancing at Zair’s wrists. He hasn’t checked them once today. We’ve been holding hands for at least an hour. I could have cursed him with anything. He doesn’t let go till he opens the door for me.
He always checks. I watch as he walks around, waiting.
He didn’t check.
I told him I’m good at curses. I try not to think about what that means. About the kind of trust that takes.