It was simple, really. Cargo shorts, a black T-shirt that hugged his firm body, and a pair of black Nikes. His hair looked like it’d just been trimmed, washed, and styled. It wasn’t this way yesterday. Did he do this for me, or was it that time of month for a routine haircut? Either way, his attire was effortless, his entire appearance mouthwatering.
“Little Knight!” he chimed, holding his hands out. I walked into the garage, past his bike that had greasy tools surrounding it. “Didn’t think you’d show.” He held up the pack of steak, taking a quick glance at it before looking at me again. “I was just about to season these T-bones and toss them on the grill.”
“Sounds great.” Turning, he opened the door and held it open, allowing me inside. It’d been a while since I last set foot in this home. The last time was that night… the night that changed everything.
I walked in ahead of him, slipping out of my sandals and then walking to the kitchen. There were empty margarita glasses set up on the island counter. The house looked different, more modern than the upscale look Mrs. Black tried to uphold.
He’d changed the black appliances to silver, and there were now two ovens in the wall across from me. The flat stovetop was built on top of the island counter that took up the center of the spacious kitchen. Theo walked in after me, barefoot now. I supposed the Japanese tradition was the only thing he hung on to.
“Why’d you think I wouldn’t show?” I asked as I sat at one of the cushioned barstools at the island.
Theo walked on the opposite side, drawing out a butcher’s knife and cutting through the plastic that was wrapped around the steaks. While pulling out the T-bones, he shrugged and said, “It’s nearing eight o’clock. Dinner is usually served somewhere between five and seven.” One of his cheeks tugged up, forming a crooked grin.
“My… dad isn’t doing so well.” I looked away. “I was at the store yesterday because all he’ll eat is vanilla yogurt during his bad days. Bought a ton.”
“Man.” He shook his head. “Can’t believe what he’s going through. Now that you finally get to spend time with him, he’s—” His words quickly stopped flowing when he realized where he was headed and how much it would pain me to hear.
The thing about Theo was he kind of had no filter. He spoke his mind. He didn’t care if feelings happened to get hurt. Izzy used to hate when he’d blast her in front of our friends or during sleepovers. He was a real man, one that didn’t sugarcoat shit, not even his own feelings.
He turned and walked to the sink to rinse the steaks off, putting an end to that conversation. After doing so, he glanced over his shoulder, smiling again. “Come here.” He gestured for me to come with a cock of his head.
“For…?”
“I took up some culinary classes. Wanna show you something.” One shoulder lifted in a shrug, as if he didn’t want his pride for cooking to show. “Lots of time on my hands now. You know how to cook?”
“If Ramen noodles and PB&J sandwiches count, then I guess so.”
He laughed, watching as I slid off the stool and walked his way. He pulled out the wet steak and then took a step to his left, placing them on a cutting board. Grabbing the meat hammer from a case containing various kitchen appliances, he tore off a sheet of plastic cling wrap and then set them aside. “That doesn’t count,” he chuckled, eyes bright. “But I’ll teach you a little something.” He pointed to something next to me. “Grab those seasonings, will you?”
I reached for the bowls of seasonings and started to give them to him, but he held up his hands. “Nah!”
“What?” I asked.
“This is all you.”
“Oh no,” I shook my head, shoving them against his chest. “The meat will be so salty. It’d be better if the professional did it.”
Smiling, he grabbed the seasonings and placed them on the counter. “Fine. But you’re pounding.” He picked up the hammer, handed it to me, and then placed the plastic sheet on top of the steaks. “Come on.”
My eyes flickered up at him, uneasy. “What if I fuck it up?”
“Well, now.” His eyes were slightly expanded, still warm. Comforting. “Someone grew a potty mouth while they were away, huh?”
“Sorry,” I apologized as he stepped aside.
“Don’t even worry about it. You should hear Izzy. I think she forgets she’s actually speaking to her dad when we’re on the phone sometimes.”
“Yeah,” I released a breathy laugh. When he noticed he mentioned his daughter, a draft of seriousness passed by us. It was so easy to talk to him, so easy to fall for such a beautiful, easy-going person. But it helped that he’d brought her up. It made me realize instantly that I wasn’t here to play nice or even play house. I was here for dinner and drinks.
Dinner and drinks.
Drinks and dinner.
Whatever.
“Alright,” he held his hands out, pointing towards the steak and quickly getting off the subject of his daughter. “Have at it. Beat it ‘til it’s blue.”
Laughing, I lifted the hammer and slammed it onto the red meat. Theo walked away, pushing the doors open that led to the deck. He checked the temperature of the grill, and I couldn’t help my wandering eyes.
He moved swiftly, fluidly. There was something about him now. He walked lighter, head higher, but there was still a small cloud of darkness hovering above his head—one that would never go away. Not until he came to peace with his past. Or, better yet, stopped blaming himself for things he couldn’t control.
When he was back inside, he dusted his hands and walked my way. The closer he got, the tenser I became. It was then that I realized he had a spritz of cologne on. It was an earthy scent, drifting past my nose, the smell of the seasonings long gone as he met at my side. His arm brushed mine, his hand reaching over me to grab the flavorings.
“Okay. I think we’re good,” he said as I slammed the hammer down once more. He grabbed a few pinches of the garlic, pepper, and a mix of salts he’d put together, smearing them on the steaks with his fingers. “I’m gonna toss these babies on the grill now. I’ll whip us up some margaritas while they cook.” He picked up a pan, placed the T-bones inside, and walked to the deck, winking before stepping outside.
“Sounds good.” I sighed, ignoring the flutters that thrashed in my belly. Theo placed the steaks on the grill, and I walked out with an inquisitive gaze, watching as he flipped them back and forth in peace.
Taking notice of my stare, he briefly looked at me with a hint of amusement on his face. “Something on your mind?”
“I’m just… curious about something.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“I don’t know,” I hummed, sitting on the bench a few inches away from the grill. I folded my legs, looked up, and caught him staring at them, running his gaze up and down. He avoided my eyes as he looked away, pretending to focus on the grilled meat. I pretended I didn’t notice him looking. “You seem much better now, Mr. Black.”
He huffed a laugh, placing his fork down. “Alright, there you go with that Mr. Black thing. Chloe,” he murmured, turning my way and stepping closer. “You can call me Theo. I realize there’s a big elephant in the room—one we should probably address. If you want, we can talk it out. Hopefully that’ll get you to ease up. You seem… tense. See, I wanted to wait to talk about that, but if you insist.”
“No—it’s not that,” I quickly responded. “I just… have a lot on my plate. And if it really makes you feel better, I will call you Theo. Not Mr. Black.”
“Good. I’d appreciate that.” He picked up the silver fork again. “As for that elephant in the room, how about we just let him go, pretend he was never here.”
“Is that what you want?” I questioned.
His eyes met mine. “Is that what you want?”
“I think it’d be best,” I admitted, but there was a little lie behind that statement.
“Whatever you want, Little Knight.” I’m not sure he noticed, but a faint smile touched his lips, one I was sure he m
eant to hide. He knew there was still something sparking here, something really, really hard to ignore. Fireworks popped. Electricity zinged and zapped, shooting straight to my core.
Inhaling deeply, I stood and watched as he flipped the steaks once more and then took them off the grill. “Looks good!” I said.
“Think so?”
“Yes. I’ve been dying for a really good steak lately.”
“Well it’s a good thing you’re in town, huh?” He revealed one of his dimples, and I followed him inside. Once the pan was out of his hands, he went for the fridge, pulling out a jug of lime margarita juice and then some ice from the freezer. He went for the blender, and asked, “So, school is good? Liking USC?”
“Oh, I love it! I mean at first I didn’t like my roommate, but she’s cool now. I get her.”
“You were never the type to really make friends,” he said.
“Yeah, my dad said the same thing.”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes having too many friends leads to trouble… and stress. Trust me, it took me a very long time to come to terms with that conclusion.”
“Yeah, I’ve only seen one friend come over. Wasn’t his name Mr. Brant or something? Cool guy.”
“Yeah… about that…” He looked away, dumping ice into the blender. “Mr. Brant only wanted one thing. Had to let him go.”
My lips twisted. “What do you mean?”
“Money…” His eyebrows pulled together. “When he found out about what happened to Janet, he showed up more often. Found out he was only taking advantage of my situation, getting closer to me for the few checks I’d receive due to her loss.”
“What?” I gasped. “Seriously?”
He nodded.
“What an asshole.”
“Agreed.” He turned on the blender, crushing the crushed ice even further, filling the room with a loud whirring noise. I toyed with the cotton edges of the placemat in front of me, focusing on the horizontal prints.
“I would never do that to anyone. It seems so… wrong,” I said over the noise.
“Well, I could give him the benefit of the doubt by saying his mom had finally kicked him out and he had just been fired from a well-paying truck-driving job, but I won’t. He’s an adult. I was going through a hard time, and to try and take advantage of me at my weakest point is pretty fucked up. I understand not having money, but all he had to do was ask. I always look out for the people I care about. He knows this. Instead, he tried to steal it, going through my papers to see if he could find a pin number to my accounts. I caught him in my office one night.” His head shook, the disappointment unmistakable. “But, it is what it is.” The blender came to a hush, and he poured two glasses, one for himself and one for me. After digging in the drawer in front of him, he pulled out a purple straw and tossed it into one of the glasses, sliding it across the counter.
“Favorite color.” He beamed.
“Look at you,” I teased. “You still remember.” I accepted the drink, deciding it was best to stop talking about his deceitful friends and his deceased wife. I took a quick sip, my taste buds going into a heavenly rage, flooded with tangy lime. “Wow! This is really good.”
“I added a little something to the margarita mix before you got here. Can you taste it?”
“No.” I shook my head. “But it’s great. What is it?”
“That would be spoiling it.”
“Just tell me,” I laughed.
He took a sip of his and placed the glass on the marble countertop, folding his arms. “Just a few drops of cherry flavor.”
“Wow… never would’ve guessed that one. I was thinking strawberry or raspberry.”
“Close.” He walked to the fridge, pulling out a glass bowl with potato salad inside.
“So, cooking, huh?” I inquired, lifting my brows as I smiled at him. “It’s what you do to pass the time now?”
“It… helps.” He put the bowl down and then grabbed two plates from the cabinet above. “See, I went to therapy because my mom thought I could use it. I don’t believe in therapy and, luckily, my therapist understood that, so he told me to find something to do that can distract my mind, ease my discomfort. An outlet.”
“When did you go into therapy?”
He was hesitant, avoiding my eyes. “About three months after you left.” And only a month before you met your girl toy. “I started to… spiral. Instead of going to work I’d go to the bar. My mom dropped by one day to check on me, saw me looking and feeling like utter shit, and signed me up, refusing to argue with me about it.” He sighed. “I’m grateful. Mom always knows best, right?”
“Hmm… most moms.”
“Speaking of, where is yours? Never see her car parked up front anymore.”
“Well, my mom decided to be a bitch and turn into a travel-happy cougar.”
He busted out laughing. “Cougar? Really? Young guy? I can’t picture it.”
“Really? ‘Cause I can. He can’t be too much older than I am.” I cringed. “Kinda… weird after seeing her with my dad all my life.”
“So she just flaked out… left your dad here to take care of himself?”
“She got Margie for him, and luckily we can trust her. She’s a really sweet woman. Her number one concern is my dad, so that’s good I guess.”
“Yeah.” He placed his palms on the counter, his muscles flexing without effort. I looked away from his arms, but then my eyes met his. Damn it, wrong place. I was supposed to look down or to my left, even to my right. But, no. I looked up, trapping myself.
Our eyes fastened—clinked. And when they did, it was hard to look away.
Man, he was truly a beautiful sight to see—a sight for sore eyes as they say. His gaze traveled down to my lips, lingering there for just a moment before he tore them away, picking up his margarita and turning for the potato salad again.
“Well, how about we eat and forget about reality for just a little while. I was told food is a good way to comfort the soul.”
I agreed with a nod. “Sure. Let me go wash my hands really quick. I’ll be back, I swear.” His eyebrows rose, amused by my last remark. I was out of the kitchen, mentally cursing at myself for the last thing I said. “You’ll be back?” I muttered under my breath once entering the bathroom. What the hell did I even mean? Where else are you gonna go?
I gripped the edges of the cool porcelain counter, staring at myself in the mirror. Familiar hazel eyes sparkled from the lighting above, the pit of my belly still fluttering.
I felt… different. Relieved? Perky? I don’t know. I just know I felt totally different here than I did in my own house. Like all of my worries had vanished for a while and nothing mattered but the food, drinks, and… Theo.
Just Theo.
Always Theo.
Duh, Theo!
Shaking my head swiftly, I turned the knobs and stuck my hands beneath the stream of water. I then brought my wet hands to my face, rubbing beneath my eyes and looking at myself again.
It’s just dinner, Chloe. It’s just dinner. Get over yourself.
Shutting off the water, I dried off my hands and then walked out again. Theo wasn’t in the kitchen when I returned. Frowning, I called his name, and he responded from the deck, his voice a short distance away. It was then that I noticed our drinks weren’t at the counter. Nor were our plates or the food. I walked out, my bare feet landing on the smooth wood.
He sat at the round table in the corner, the food set up with two China plates across from each other.
“Figured we could eat out here. Feels good tonight.”
I looked from him to the stars in the sky, gripping the door handle. The wind bristled by me, flowing through my hair, wrapping me up in its comforting breeze. It was a very good night to eat outside, so I walked ahead, taking the seat across from him.
He had a smile on his lips, observing me as I got comfortable. “What?” I laughed.
“Nothing.” He pressed his lips, picked up a fork, and stuck it i
nto one of the steaks, placing it on my plate. “Help yourself to whatever.”
I browsed my selection, eyes moving from the potato salad to the green beans and then the yellow rice. I helped myself to the rice and green beans, deciding to eat the potato salad last.
“Actually,” Theo said, and when I looked up he was still peering at me, gaze inquisitive. I straightened my back, becoming insecure as he scanned me. “I just wanted to let you know that you look great tonight. Really great. I’m digging this modern hippie thing you have going on.”
“Oh.” I bit a smile, digging my fork into the green beans. “Uh, thank you.” See, I knew someone would love it. Mariah hated how I dressed, and Izzy didn’t understand the choices I made whenever we shopped, but Theo liked it. My heart went wild.
He nodded and cut into his steak. Our talking during dinner was minimal. Other than the music he had playing from the sound system in the living room, we hardly spoke.
We did chat about little things, like other meals he’d learned how to make, how he now had more than enough employees at his shop to run it, and how he didn’t even have to work at the shop himself anymore. He was very proud about that. He’d finally made it to a position in life where he could do what he wanted all day long, and still make money. I was proud of him for it. It was all he ever used to talk about. His shop. His dreams. It was great.
After dinner, we went to the kitchen for another round of margaritas, and I even had a slice of key lime pie he’d prepared. It was delicious. That cooking hobby of his worked out wonderfully.
I finally checked the time on my cell phone when our glasses were empty and our pies half-eaten. It was nearing 11 PM. I couldn’t believe how quickly time had passed. Although it was a little awkward at first and, yes, there was an oversized elephant in the room, I had a great time. I refused to speak on said elephant. Speaking on it was a risk, one I didn’t want to take. I didn’t want to ruin such a great night.
“Wow,” I breathed. “It’s getting late. I should get going. Check on my dad.”
“Right—shit, yeah.” I was sure he meant to sound enthusiastic, but his tone was far from it. It was somewhat deflated. I detected the defeat in his eyes, how my absence would soon bring back loneliness. I hated it, but this was no excuse. Although Margie was there, I wanted to check on Dad myself. She needed a break, some sleep after dealing with him all day long.
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