by Celeste, B.
My brows raised, waiting for her to finish the sentence. When her painted lips remained closed, I was tempted to text Ren and see if he could pick me up like he had at Theo’s. Then again, I was still a little upset with him over what happened at his frat. It wasn’t his fault, but he could have told me where he was going before ditching me that way I knew where to look. Plus, he’d admitted that Evan had a bad reputation around the house but wouldn’t go into further detail. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see whatever rep wasn’t just some bad boy thing based on the way Ren had gripped the steering wheel of his Jeep.
It didn’t help matters either when I felt Theo’s anger like radiation being absorbed into my skin. It wasn’t like I thought his agitation was unprecedented, I just didn’t want him thinking ill of Ren because of one night. There wasn’t even proof that I’d been drugged because nobody had taken me to the hospital, not that I would have wanted them to. The only alcohol I’d drank was from the game I’d played, and anybody could have drunk it, and one and a half beers that Ren himself had given me after I sobered a little. Had I set it down? It was possible, which meant I was at fault too.
“Because what?” I pressed lightly, curious as to what she’d say. It wasn’t like my condition was a secret. It certainly circulated around the people who Sophie hung out with. They wanted the details, the reasons I’d starved myself to the point my body was shutting down. Some of them were bold enough to ask why any young girl would want to look so frail and broken. That one still got to me. I wished she’d replied, “Maybe some of them want to reflect what they feel like on the inside” but I knew Sophie had kept quiet and pretended like I wasn’t sick and struggling. Did she even know that was how I’d felt inside? I doubted it.
While I also wasn’t nearly as physically strong, it was my mental and emotional health I’d be more concerned about with standing in front of the mirrors while stretched over the barre, being trained rigorously and told what to eat and what not to again. My diet was restrictive, the training during practice and off the floor intense, and the critique on the dancers’ bodies demeaning. I couldn’t put myself through that and believe I’d make it out without failing again. Only the next time might be harder to come out of.
I used to love dancing because it felt like flying and freedom and peace. I loved it even more because my mother’s face lit up every time she saw me glide across the floor. I’d been called graceful once upon a time. That was, until everything the trainers said got to my head, until the press told me I’d been too bulky to make it big.
The way I’d watch myself in the mirrors, the frailty of my skin, the amount of times I stumbled during practice because I hadn’t eaten enough for the amount I was burning, especially during recital season, was like a warning sign flashing. Nobody saw it. I ignored it. I was killing myself for everybody else’s approval. Sophie said I was fine, that all the girls had to change their lifestyles in order to be the top of the top and I doubted any of her friends believed her. Did they call her out? No. That wasn’t the way things were and we both knew it.
All that mattered now was that the love I’d grown for the sport my mother and I shared had dwindled as time went on and disappeared altogether when we laid her to rest. My passion had been buried in the coffin alongside her, never to be seen again. I’d forced myself to continue until I was nineteen, told myself she would have wanted me to, guilted myself into thinking it was the best option. It was Theo who told me I could find passion in other things, things that were safer and less triggering when I’d finally agreed to get help. Because of Theo, I’d found art.
I’d been saved.
Sophie’s voice pulled me from the potentially dangerous train of thought. “You know I love you, Adele. It’s just sad to see such talent wasted. But your health means more.”
My health means more because it causes less gossip for you to hide from.
My aunt loved to spread gossip but loathed being the center of it. Once my eating disorder came to light, she was swarmed by people who wanted to hear everything. Paired with the flare of my father’s incarceration? She didn’t know what to do besides lie to everybody, chastise me, and save face for her friends as if the Saint James’ were just that. Saintly.
Maybe people sympathized with me, but I was sure many more had judged. Theo refused to fill me in on the city gossip, and I knew he was always in-the-know even if he didn’t want to be. Like Sophie, he heard who cheated, who broke up, and who was in love. He just didn’t care, especially if talk involved me or my family.
I believe the words he always used were, “Why would I give a rat’s ass what people do with their lives?”
He had a point.
“Your concern for my talent is noted,” I told her calmly, a smile tilting my lips as I was trained. However, the following words were not in the social etiquette handbook I’d gotten lectured on time and time again. “However, what I do with my life is of no concern to you. Just be happy I’m still breathing.”
“I am happy you’re still breathing. What kind of comment is that?”
“One that’s justified,” a husky and low voice butted in. I couldn’t help but smile at Theo’s appearance in the doorway.
Sophie turned to him, surprise clear on her face. “What on earth are you doing here? You haven’t come to brunch in months.”
“Della and I have plans.” His eyes turned to me with an eyebrow quirked. “Unless you forgot? I know how much these brunches mean to you, spending quality time with your aunt.”
It took everything in me not to waver a smile, which would have given away his sarcasm. He delivered it so smoothly, so carefully, most people wouldn’t know it at all. It was how he got away with so much in conversation. Unlike those people, I knew better.
“Our plans.” I shook my head, dropping my napkin on the table. “I can’t believe I forgot about them.” My eyes turned to my aunt, who was frowning. “I’m sorry, Sophie. I need to go.”
She stood when I did, her palms flattening her typical Sunday best. The attire was flashy and bold but fitting for her personality. “Don’t think I don’t know what you two are up to. I’m not stupid.”
For a split second, my mind took me back to the night Theo stumbled into my flat and pressed me against the wall. Heat gathered between my thighs just remembering how hard he was everywhere, especially where he’d ground against me with his hips like he was trying to prove how much he needed an escape.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I managed, feigning innocence.
Sophie’s eyes rolled as a small sigh escaped her lips. “I know I’m not your favorite, but you didn’t need to plan an escape route. You could have simply said you didn’t want to come.”
She knew I’d never do that though without a good reason.
Theo appeared beside me, a palm going to my lower back. It wasn’t unusual, but the flutters in my stomach were a new occurrence since the night my mind liked taking me back to. Maybe he didn’t realize it, but Theo found ways to touch me every time we saw each other now. Our hands would brush, our shoulders, some part of him always needed that contact and I never shied away from it because I’d all but beckoned him to make those moves. “We really do have plans, Sophie. She goes back to school tomorrow.”
My aunt’s eyes widened. “I forgot all about that. Are you sure—”
“I’m sure.” I didn’t mean to cut her off, but I didn’t want to discuss this further. Whatever her opinion was, it was probably going to upset me more than I already was.
“Fine. Just think about what I said, okay? I spoke to Judith and she’d love to have you back. They’d be fools not to know you were the reason people came to the recitals before.”
I could feel Theo tense next to me, but he remained silent until we said our goodbyes. I promised Sophie nothing, knowing I wouldn’t break a vow or lead her astray. My mind was set.
When we were safely outside, Theo chose to speak. “She was trying to get you to dance.” It wasn’t a question, s
o I considered not answering. I knew Theo wouldn’t relent though.
“Yes. I told her no.”
There was a stretch of silence. “You’re smart, Della. You know your limits. She may not say it, but I will. I’m proud of you. Your father would be too.”
Tears burned the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I simply said, “Thank you” and climbed into the car that Dallas usually drove us around in.
Once we were both buckled, he turned to me with a small smirk gracing his sculpted face. I knew by the glint in his eyes he was up to something. “Want to go to Denny’s?”
Part of me wanted to tell him no. It was rare I told him that though. I loved spending time with him, especially one-on-one. But that nagging feeling cemented in the bottom of my stomach, the one that made me want to curl up in bed and not come out for days, resurfaced.
It told me not to eat my favorite pancakes or be with my favorite person or do anything other than sulk until every one of my defenses I’d custom built had fallen again.
I wanted to tell him no so bad.
But I didn’t. “I’d love that.”
The warehouse was musty, but it was my favorite place to go to think, which wasn’t often. Usually I avoided my thoughts, but sometimes they were unavoidable, and I had to accept that. That was why I was sitting on an old crate in the middle of the empty room with a sketch pad on my lap of a new project I’d been wanting to draw ever since it popped into my head one night when I’d been too restless to sleep.
A pencil outline of two faceless people took up most of the white sheet. Running a finger over the lines, I traced the larger hand that raised to the much smaller face. I’d pictured it a gentle touch, one of longing. That was what my mind conjured in the middle of the night on repeat. I figured if I could draw it, paint it, something, it’d free my conscious of the taunting memory of what it felt like that night.
Sighing, I looked up when a flutter came from the rafters. Birds got in all the time and hung out with me while I wallowed. Sometimes I drew, sometimes I’d just sit around and listen to the silence. This side of the city didn’t have a lot of traffic. It felt forgotten, almost like it was mine and mine alone now that my father was gone. I’d seen pictures of it in better shape when my parents were younger. It’d made sense why they liked sneaking away, having parties, breaking the rules like two people in love.
Part of me had been jealous of their tale, like I wouldn’t get that feeling. Not as easily as they did. Both my mother and father came from wealthy backgrounds. My father’s family was always in politics, and my mother’s from law. It made sense that they’d meet considering the mutual events held for the two groups of people. I’d been to my fair share of black-tie formals where I watched my father mingle among the best the city had to offer. When I was younger, I’d usually have somebody watch me while my parents went to them, but my father took me when I was fifteen and let me pick out a fancy silver dress that flitted to the floor gracefully and hung off one of my shoulders. I’d felt beautiful then and hadn’t hated the way people complimented me. I should have, but I’d been too distracted.
I wasn’t even sure what the event was for—some charity, I believed. What I knew for sure was that Theo West would be there because my father told me he’d donated a mass sum of money to the cause. He’d looked uncomfortable when I finally laid eyes on him, across from the large ballroom everybody mingled about in, until he saw us. My chest had warmed when he made his way over, greeting my father with a typical handshake and me with a kiss on the cheek.
“You look beautiful, Della.” Maybe it was those words that had cemented the thought I’d already made myself before being dropped off at the doors that night. The dress was gorgeous and fit my body perfectly, my hair was styled in a skillfully curled updo, and I’d put makeup on that made me look older. I realized the moment I’d captured Theo’s attention that I subconsciously did it on purpose. I wanted to catch his eye and see his reaction and wasn’t disappointed.
Lifting fingers to the cheek he often kissed, I found myself smiling. From somewhere in the distance, music thumped loudly. Nothing I knew, but the bass was evident from whatever place it traveled from. A car maybe? One of the rundown apartment buildings a block away? Whatever song it was shifted to something slower, and I found my head swinging in a slow melody, my feet moving to the new beat, muscle memory taking over.
I wasn’t sure when it happened, but my sketchpad was set on the crate and I was on my feet swaying. Eyes closed, I turned to the beat and found my feet gliding me across the floor as I hummed to myself.
Getting lost in the old me as my feet swept across the cement, I gasped when an arm hooked around me, and familiar spicy cologne took over my senses. Before I opened my eyes, the hardened body against mine pressed us closer together as he took lead. One rough palm held mine while the other rested on my waist as he led us in a slow dance.
Cracking my eyelids open, I saw the fitted light blue button down against a bulky body wrapped in earned muscle before drifting my gaze upward to light scruff, full pink lips, and up to dark blue eyes gazing down at me.
“You don’t smell like tobacco today,” was the brilliant greeting I gave him as he turned us. If I looked down, I’d see Tom Ford shoes, polished, stepping to the practically non-existent music.
He grumbled, “Trying to quit.”
My brows drew up. “Really?”
One head nod was all I got in return as he tightened his grip on my hand and waist. “You were dancing.”
Swallowing, I rested my cheek against his chest and listened to the thrum of his heartbeat as my body eased into him. “Not really. Just…playing more than anything.”
He hummed.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, changing the topic to something lighter.
“Dallas called.”
Pressing my eyes closed, I nodded against him. It made sense, I guessed. Dallas was striking up conversation the whole way he drove me here, something he did more times than he probably liked. I enjoyed the thirty-something-year-old’s company. We had light conversations and he seemed to genuinely care. Plus, he knew my mother. Not well, he admitted, but enough to tell me on occasion how much I reminded him of her. It always made me smile when I heard those words.
“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” Theo scolded quietly, his chin resting on the top of my head. “We’ve been over this.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, something he would have given me grief over if he’d seen me do it. “I’m not alone. Dallas is lurking outside pretending not to be.”
His silence told me I was right.
“Plus,” I added softly, “you’re here.”
Another hum.
We danced liked that for a moment longer, our breathing on the foreground of sound that took over the warehouse. I found myself remembering all the times I’d begged him to do this with me when I was younger. Sometimes it called for dancing when we were at events—other times it was in the living room of my parents’ house when he visited, and I clung to him until he caved. It never took much.
I found myself softly laughing over the fond memory. It seemed like so long ago. I wasn’t sure what it was like to be as innocent as I was back then. “Remember when I used to stand on your shoes while we danced like this? Where were we when that woman, the blonde, had a fit when I stood on top of those fancy Fords you had on?”
My smile widened when his deep chuckle vibrated against me. “Arabella. I remember well. She reprimanded me all night until I finally told her to leave.”
I hadn’t known that. “Oh.”
“She was a bit much,” he admitted. “I needed a date and your mother insisted…” Ah. My mother always meant well, but I’d heard my father and Theo talking about her matchmaking skills. Or lack thereof. I loved her, but I agreed with the men. I didn’t like anybody with him, though I tolerated Mariska because I had no other option when they’d gotten married. If he’d found somebody he cared for, wh
o was I to stop him? I was raised to be proper and civil, and that was what I was. Sometimes, I even liked Mariska, even if I was a little moody toward her because she got to spend so much time with Theo.
“I’m surprised you didn’t get sick of me always bugging you to dance then.” I’d been relentless and he always did as I asked. My father joked I’d had him wrapped around my finger, a place I wanted him to always remain, even if that was selfish.
“I didn’t mind.”
“You never used to—” I squealed when he lifted me up and guided my feet to his shoes where they rested as soon as he dropped me back down, then started laughing when he kept dancing just like that. Like the old times.
“I enjoyed those days, Della,” he told me honestly, his face drawing back ever so slightly until his breath caressed the side of my face.
“You did?”
Half his lips quirked up. “I did. Those were simpler times when there was nothing heavy to worry about.”
I licked my lips as his nose grazed mine. My heart sped in my chest as I closed my eyes again and willed him to close the gap between our lips, but it never came. So I said, “Things now are certainly complicated because of my father…”
His sigh was felt in my soul, heavy and burdened, and I wanted to know his thoughts. “It isn’t just your father that makes things complicated now.”
“It isn’t?”
A pause. “No, Della, it isn’t.”
We kept dancing like that, my feet on top of his, without another word spoken between us. I wanted to push him for more, for whatever he wasn’t saying, but I opted to soak in the moment instead because I knew it’d have to end.
I wrapped my arms around him and used his chest as a pillow as he moved us in a slow circle. My only hope was that he didn’t end it too soon.
Chapter Four
Theo