21. Chapter 21
Dom
Mariana: Did Evie talk to you?
Dom: Yeah. I don't think it's a big deal.
Mariana: Wait. What do you think we're talking about?
Dom: None of it is a big deal.
Mariana: We must not be talking about the same things because at least the social media stuff is an issue.
Dom: The stuff around you being at the game?
Two seconds after the message shows as delivered, her call comes through. It's video, and I press the green button with some suspicion.
My kitchen has a nook with a small table, where I'm having dinner, but I lean back against the cushions while I inspect the screen.
Most of the view is her face, with anxious eyes and a tense line to her mouth.
Her hair is half-pulled up for once, letting me see a window behind her.
There's not a lot of light around her, just enough to see details in a soft yellow glow.
I have no idea where she is, but I'm aware this may be the first look into her place here in Seattle.
"Why video?" Is the first thing I ask.
"I need to see your face because I can't believe you really don't care."
"Why would I care? It's just speculation."
I sip from my water bottle. Only a day after the game, some fans online got in the comment section to say she was there for either Rafa or me. They argued that, considering the fact I date a lot but Rafa never does, they think she was there as my guest.
The main point of discussion was that I haven't been seen with anyone for a while…
but Mariana wasn't wearing my jersey. She could be there as someone working for the Strike, but then, why not be with the GM?
And in the process, they learned about Mariana's divorce.
Fans have been arguing for a few days, but I've been happy to let Evie monitor everything.
She frowns. "If the social media detectives Evie told me about are that immediately obsessed, they could connect the dots and see we went to college at the same time for a few months. That we dated back then. They'll take it as evidence of… something."
"So what?"
"I bet there are pictures of us together somewhere. We had friends who had social media, didn't we? Any good sleuth would find that."
My eyebrows go up my forehead. I return to my food, a delicious meal of chiles en nogada my mom dropped off earlier today. It buys me time. I hadn't realized there could still be pictures of us back then. I archived the ones I posted of us a long time ago, and I'm curious if I could find any.
Not that I mean to look. There's no point. For what, to remind myself how good things used to be? Feel that old pain that tastes too much like longing? I worked very hard to look away and live my life, to put myself through that again with Mariana nearby for a while wasn’t the plan.
I shrug, though I'm not sure she can see it.
"I'm still not sure what the problem is.
Let's say they make the connection. It's still speculation.
It's not like we're going to be seen together alone, out and about, smiling at each other or whatever. It’s not like you're going to start cheering for me with my name on your back. "
"Let me guess." Her lips purse. "You don't care because your brand on social media is this hot guy with big dick energy. I saw that clip of you with your shirt riding a little high. That wasn't an accidental crop top, Dom."
"Someone did a deep dive." I chuckle.
I eat another bite of chile, trying to hide the smile wanting to show up on my face.
First, I learn she looked me up while in England. Now, it turns out she still looks me up sometimes. Even when she had good reasons for it, I can't deny it pleases me. I just don't want her to know it does. And I most definitely don't want it to get into my head.
"What do you mean a deep dive?" she asks. "I got like three videos in a row, just by looking up your name."
"It gets hot, okay?"
"Honestly? I think you just love the attention. I read some of the comments."
"Jealous? Maybe you get hot, too."
"Oh, please. Those people are thirsty, and they're even saying you're doing it on purpose."
"Okay, yeah. Sue me. They like it when I lift my shirt and show my body? Then let me give them a morsel. What does that have to do with the group of people who think you and I are dating just because you showed up to a game?"
She purses her lips and leans back, and I imagine her in her living room, drinking a calming tea before sleep and deciding to call me on a whim.
I want to ask her what she's wearing, just to complete the picture, but I don't let myself.
I just wait and see her struggling, watching me eat like we were having dinner together, and she was making up her mind about something.
"I don't want my family to know," she finally says.
I swallow my food and chase it down with my drink. It settles heavy in my stomach. Unfair, if you ask me, as this dish is one of my favorites. The pomegranate seeds? An amazing burst of sweetness on my tongue. But I still hate that she cares so much about her family's opinion.
"Cora will probably know about the gossip at some point," I argue. "The rest of your family? Nothing I can do about it."
"Cora won't tell them, but I don't know how far my mom is willing to go to keep an eye on me."
"Fuck’s sake, Mariana. You're an adult."
"Yes, and if she ever makes a comment about us that way, I will tell her not to jump to conclusions and let me do my thing.
But I want to minimize the chances of having to do that— I'm just being proactive.
Clever. I thought you'd understand, considering how much you care about your friends starting to meddle. "
"Starting? Is that the correct verb?"
I shovel more food into my mouth, smirking when she rolls her eyes.
"Continuing to meddle," she says.
"There we go. Still in agreement, then."
"Perfect. We're still a team on this. We're not giving anyone anything to latch on. We want to make it very clear we're well in the past. Bar a couple of exceptions no one knows about…"
She lets the sentence hang in the air. She licks her lips, and I can practically hear the question forming on her tongue.
I'm the one rolling my eyes this time. "I have not told anyone of our… encounters. What else is there? Nothing. You can relax."
"Okay. Great. As long as no one knows…"
"I can be your dirty little secret."
"Like I'm not yours!"
"Maybe we need to re-think the term. That's too sexy to have hanging over our heads. Like we're sneaking around jumping each other because we can't help it. Some kind of deep-seated need we can't fight…"
The realization hits and it squeezes my throat. Sneaking around and jumping each other is exactly what we've done twice since her return. I snort, but it comes out strangled.
I can't call it a need. That would make it too powerful.
The kind of thing that could lead me straight back to heartbreak and more yearning that I know what to do with.
I remember too well what that was like. All the pain I carried with me for so long after she left, wrapped around my ribcage for months after that phone call.
The one no one but my mom saw, perhaps because it echoed her own story, after my dad left. I can't do that to her— us— again.
I study the screen, and the way she frowns and stares right back. Thinking hard, if the tiny twin wrinkles on her brow still mean the same.
The fork makes subtle clinking noises as I set it down. I was careful, but the silence has grown heavy and it hides nothing.
She smirks. "Maybe we should make more of an effort to start dating."
"You mean people. Other people."
"Of course that's what I mean. I think it's time we give it a real try, despite our work and goals. If we're smart about it and plan our time carefully—"
I shake my head. "I'm sorry, but I'm not going to start dating just to deflect the internet sleuths and throw your mom off the scent. I'll date when I'm ready. When I want to."
I pick up my fork and finish my meal. There's a chance I'm chewing with too much force, but I'm annoyed and don't care.
I can't believe she's encouraging me to date.
As if it's up to her. As if she doesn't have to work as hard as me at keeping everything in place, lest the next few months upend the hard-earned stability of recent years.
It took my mom nearly as long to find her footing after my dad left as it did me when Mariana went to England. She learned from it and with her pride intact, made a wonderful life for herself and us. I've never seen her falter. I can't falter either.
The last few bites could crack a molar, but I manage to swallow and finish it off with the rest of my drink.
Mariana scrunches her face. "Fair. I don't want to be told what to do about anything, either."
"As long as that's settled."
"I'm sorry. Let's just be careful, okay?"
Meal done and water consumed, I push my plate away and lean my phone on my bottle, so I can stay on the call hands-free. I sit back on the cushions again.
I raise an eyebrow. "Careful how? Taking turns to go to the club with everyone, so we never share a space?
Are you going to decline going to Evie and Logan's wedding?
Mariana, random people are going to think whatever they want.
People close to us won't see anything if we don't give them anything.
No one will worry if we prove we're fine. And we're fine."
"Right. Okay." She settles further on the sofa. "We can work through this. We can keep our career goals and pause hookup plans if we need to. We'll hold the line if anyone questions us. You and I are not dating and anyone who thinks otherwise can stuff it."
"Exactly. It will only be a few months. Eventually, you'll leave again."
Her eyes widen— my words impact her more than I thought they would. She gulps.
I purse my lips. "We can't forget you're leaving, Mariana."