14. Chapter 14 #2
He approaches me, towel firm over his shoulder and phone in hand. Wearing only shorts, of course. I allow myself a single look at his chest. His new ink is a black and white, detailed… butterfly? Moth? I'm not sure, and I won't ask.
I take a deep breath. Chlorine fills my lungs. He gazes at me like he couldn't give a shit about any of it.
"It's not only about that one night," I explain. "My mom is going for dinner with Selena… and Selena is inviting my parents to the gala. I think she's inviting them to a game as well. The boss and I had a meeting about it earlier."
I'm wringing my hands. He wraps them with one large palm to make it stop. It only works to make my heart race.
Our eyes lock. I stop breathing.
"You're anxious," he says.
Years ago, this is the time when he would hold my hands to let me ramble, or bring me close to hold me and help me calm me down. This time, he takes away his hand and crosses his arms to keep away from me. His voice came out monotone, rather than full of tenderness like it used to.
And, yes. His tell is there. An eyebrow is arched in the exact right way. This affects him, too.
Uh oh.
"I'll manage," I chew the inside of my mouth.
"It's just… my parents. You know. The thing is, what about this hockey game?
The more inconspicuous we are, the better.
But does that mean you're going to the game?
If we didn't care about each other, we wouldn't mind spending time together.
My mom will see right through everything as soon as she asks me about you, and then one of your friends might overhear, and what then? "
"I shouldn't go if the goal is for me to be detached. We tried being aloof. It didn't work. I've made many mistakes in my life, Mariana, but never twice."
It hurts to be called a mistake, but I feel the same way about him, so I can't complain. Well, not him, just what we did a couple of weeks ago. Except no, not that either. It was great. I just can't go there again.
"You're getting it wrong." I cross my arms. "The problem was that we didn't manage to be detached. We were angry."
"I'm still angry."
"That's fine. Just… bite it back, please."
"Next you're going to tell me to journal about it."
I give him a look. He purses his lips not to smile.
"Journal about it," I say, grateful he can make a joke, even if he hides some of it. "Vent about me to your psychologist. I still have the same number, so go ahead and text me why you're so upset with me. I won't see it."
"I gather you still have me blocked." He snorts. "Wow. You'll have me fuck you in a random study room, but you won't read my texts."
I press my lips into a thin line. "That was a mutual agreement."
"I never agreed for you to block me."
"You know I'm talking about— about the other day— we were both into it—"
"That's why being blocked bothers me more. How is it going to help me to text you if you won't see it?"
"Fine. I'm unblocking you right now." I take my phone and tap away. "Will you come to the game now?"
"So I can be pleasant to your mom, and to you, except via text where I can let out all my irritation? Just so your mom doesn't suspect anything about us?"
I nod. "You'll have to see her at the Partners' Party and the gala anyway.
Maybe other hockey games. Or Selena might have them tour the arena when they come to a game and have them meet you all.
My dad could be tagging along. It's going to be unavoidable!
Better to set the foundations today for how things will be, when we have to interact so often.
When we'll be constantly surrounded by people who are tracking our every move. "
"That sounds exhausting."
"But it's going to happen." I keep working on my phone, figuring out the unblocking function.
"I thought we agreed. We don't want people thinking we're getting back together, right?
You're angry at me and don't want to deal with your friends' assumptions.
I want to prove to my parents that I'm not the naive girl they thought I was, and I am in fact capable of amazing things. We can fix this."
He takes a deep breath. "Mari, we won't get to right our wrongs."
I stare at my phone screen. His name shows unblocked now. No new messages appear, with everything he sent post-call lost to the ether. All I can see is the last text he sent me, right at the time my flight was about to depart for London.
Dom: I will miss you forever. Maybe I'll get to tell you if our paths cross again one day.
Fuck. My throat tightens. Tears build behind my eyes, but I blink them away.
I put my phone in my pocket. "That's not what I'm going for here.
Just… let's find a way to be at peace around each other.
That way we can move on and pursue our goals.
Now that my parents are hovering and might end up being besties with the owner, I need to impress everyone even more. It's about our careers, Dom."
"Cleary." The word is monotone again, but his eyes study me closely.
"Now, if you want to take the opportunity to prove to my parents you're living and thriving, hey, right behind you."
"I want your parents to see me not caring about them. But, Mariana— do you realize this is all for you? So you can deal with your parents? This isn't about what I can get out of it at all."
It gets a little harder to breathe. I gaze down at the tile beneath my feet, gulping through my embarrassment.
"You're right," I admit. "This is about trying to cope with my parents the only way I know how. It's a lot to ask of you."
"They look down on me."
"I promise they don't. They always said you were a nice guy, just…"
Remember this isn't what you want, they used to tell me. You said you wanted the charity, so go for it, Mariana.
His nostrils flare. "I don't need you to say it, thanks."
I never heard them say anything mean about Dom. But he believes they didn't like him for me, and to this day I fear it proves his point.
"I'm sorry." I gaze at him from under the ridge of my brows. "I know they're not easy to have around. They're critical and opinionated. And they influenced what happened between us. I know it affected you a lot. I hate that you ever felt judged, too."
"I don't want them to affect me anymore," he says. "Watching a hockey game with my friends could be a fun night. And maybe it's petty, but I want them to see I'm successful and got everything I wanted, even if it's not as much as they would ask of you or your siblings."
"Does that mean…"
He smirks. "I'll go to your brothers’ game."
I let out a sigh of relief.
"This time only." His voice comes out firmer now. "I make no promises for any other events. And I reserve the right to remain angry."
"Absolutely. Thank you. And if you need to get something off your chest, text me. I may not respond, but I'll read."
"Same goes."
I look at him with suspicion.
"What?" he chuckles. "I'm willing to try your way, this time."
We don't do more than nod an agreement, before he leads me out of the pool area.
He walks past me as we approach the locker room.
I get to look at his back properly, and I find the design I zoomed on in the video I recorded during the photoshoot.
Among newer ones, there it is— the tattoo of carnations on his back.
He got it when I told them I loved the flower's resilience, its simplicity, and how common it was…
as well as its meaning of fascination, love, and devotion.
He still has it.
"Bye, Dom." I slow down on my way back to my office. "I'll let you know what the plans are for Cam and Luke's game."
"You do that," he says.
I leave, crossing my fingers this new plan serves us better than the last.