Ill look for you everywh.., p.26
I'll Look for You, Everywhere, page 26
‘But only for me.’ His hands are warm against my neck as his thumbs drift lazily across my cheekbones; it’s so natural to be undone around Theo that I wonder if this is what it’s like for other people all the time. I used to tense at the idea of someone seeing me when I wasn’t prepared. Even in class, I’d think about how I looked while thinking. I’d wonder what I looked like from the side, writing notes across the page. Sometimes I’d think so hard about others looking at me that I’d end up not writing at all and eventually spend the night relearning the lesson once I got back to our flat. But it’s all different with him. It’s addictive to be brave.
Theo leans closer, towering over me in the bathroom doorway, his shoulders looking obnoxiously broad as he holds me in his hands.
My throat is dry as I try to speak when he consumes the space around me so intensely.
‘Oh. Should I call Roberto and tell him not to come?’
Theo tsks, rubbing the sensitive skin behind my ear so that my neck tilts up to face him, and my grip on the blanket falters.
‘Mhm, only if you want me not to drown him in the ocean.’ His thumb catches my bottom lip, and he stares at my mouth, looking so desperate that my heart flips.
Just as he begins to bend his head to kiss me, I remember his bloody nose and squeal. ‘You’re covered in blood!’
‘What?’ He blinks, still staring at my lips.
‘Your face! It’s disgusting. Let’s save the ravishing for when you don’t look like a bloodthirsty Jacobite.’
He chuckles softly but settles for a kiss on my forehead. ‘Okay, dottoressa,’ he murmurs into my skin, lips lingering on me. ‘Clean me up.’
After a quick shower, Theo sits on the edge of the bathtub, watching me through the fogged mirror as I wait for the tap to warm before filling the basin and wetting a washcloth to clean up the blood the shower didn’t wash. I’ve swapped the blanket for one of Dante’s sweatshirts and my ratty pyjama shorts I snuck into the luggage before Anika could stop me.
‘Why did you choose Oxford?’ he asks as I look at him in the reflection of the mirror.
I frown, never having had to justify or explain my choice. ‘I don’t know. I know our parents went there.’ I think about the four of them in the same city, studying in the same library as me before a big exam. ‘But it wasn’t just that. Sure, I’m happy to know that I’m just as capable as them. Just as smart.’ I run my finger underneath the tap but the water is still too cold. ‘But it was better that I could do it my way. By myself, I guess. I could not talk or not leave my bed for days and they wouldn’t know, which was fun in the beginning. They check up on me less because they went there.’ I check the water again and this time it’s warm and I dip the cloth underneath the tap.
‘And you like that they don’t check up on you? You don’t feel lonely?’
As I turn around, Theo’s looking at me contemplatively. He’s so obviously trying to figure me out that I start to feel self-conscious.
‘I’ve always preferred being lonely.’ Theo silently opens his legs for me to step between and immediately starts stroking my calves, the backs of my knees, my thighs. I fight the urge to sigh and fall into his touch but focus on cleaning him up, gently scrubbing the blood off his chin.
‘Interesting. I grew up constantly surrounded by noise. When I first got to Connecticut, my roommate was a week late, so it was just me in the dorm. I felt like I was going insane.’
My finger brushes under his chin and he looks up at me, his eyes somehow greyer in the fluorescent lights. The salt water has made his hair curlier and he looks so perfect that I train my gaze only on the bottom half of his face.
‘I’ve been this way since I was a kid.’ When I say that, Theo looks down.
‘What’s wrong?’
His head stays tilted downwards so I can only see his hair, curls in a messy halo around him. Just when I’m about to ask again, he looks back up at me, a small smile on his lips. ‘Nothing. We just never spoke much before. As kids, I mean. I would have liked to know that.’ His tone is off and his jaw hardens a little.
‘You seemed so much older back then,’ I say. ‘I was always hiding behind a corner when you came around.’ Theo flinches when I try to clean the blood around his nose, and I wince. ‘Sorry. I see Dante put all his effort into this punch.’
He responds by sliding his hand up my legs, playing with the edge of my shorts, and my stomach tightens. ‘I can take a little pain, Magdalen. So, anyway, you were scared of me?’ he probes.
‘Scared?’ I make my way down his neck until I reach the edge of his shirt, focusing on dabbing the blood off his collarbone and not how his voice seems to lower each time he talks. I press my lips together as his fingernail grazes lazily across my thighs, feeling the need to grip his shoulders to steady myself from his touch. ‘Intimidated,’ I conclude. ‘Even as a teen, you were just . . . big.’ I dip the towel underneath his shirt, massaging him in slow circles, and feel his breath quicken.
‘Why didn’t you ever call me across our telephone wire?’ he asks, and it sounds so earnest, so genuinely curious, that my hand stills underneath his shirt. I try to think of a way to explain how small I began to feel by the time he left, but everything sounds so pitiful.
‘I was intimidated by you even across the street and over the phone.’
How could I ever think that the brightest star in Chivasso would want to talk to me across the telephone wire? A line reserved for secret confessions and after-school gossip. For the nights when we were grounded. A little tug to wake the other up. Did you hear? Yes, I heard. But tell me anyway.
‘Dante spent our childhood trying to ignore my existence,’ I shrug, the words stinging even after living though it for the past decade. ‘I figured you wanted to, too.’
Theo’s demeanour changes at the mention of Dante. ‘We’re not the same person.’
‘You could have talked to me.’ The idea of him initiating conversation with a seven-year-old version of myself is laughable. By then, he was already hanging around girls and drinking caffè. I had just learned how to use scissors to cut my sister’s headbands in half.
‘I was scared of you.’
Rolling my eyes, I make my way back to the sink and toss the now red washcloth in the laundry basket. ‘Scared I might ask you to read me a story?’ I turn the tap back on to wash my hands as Theo strips off his shirt, throwing it in the basket, too. I try not to stare at him in the mirror but he’s just so beautiful that I give up and watch as he stretches his hands above his head. He’s all sharp contours and biceps. No one should look this fucking good after having been beaten up.
Theo rests his hands on his hips as he examines me, eyes travelling up my body so intensely that I feel lightheaded.
‘Maybe I was scared of how young you were. Like you were another person I could easily mess up.’
I turn the sink off and rest my hands on the basin as Theo walks up close behind me so that my back lightly touches his chest.
‘Anika came out fine. Arguably better than me, some would say,’ I say, but my throat is dry. He slowly leans further into my back and moves my hair to the right side before covering my hands with his on the basin, squeezing me gently beneath him as he cages me tightly against him. I suppress a shudder as he continues, settling his chin in the crook of my neck.
‘Mhm,’ he breathes, running his nose through my hair before going back to staring at us in the mirror. ‘So lovely.’ He licks his bottom lip, taking it between his teeth, and it’s enough to make me arch against him. He inhales sharply as my ass becomes flush with his groin. I watch in the mirror as his eyes fall to where our bodies meet and he groans.
‘Look how well you fit.’ He says it absentmindedly, and this time when I grind against him, his hands snake around my stomach possessively, fingers sliding down until they hook between where my thigh meets my pubic bone, making it impossible to move.
‘No, no.’ He curls his fingers tighter, looking at me in the reflection. ‘My turn.’
Theo grabs my hand and pulls me into the blue bedroom. It’s stifling in here with the window shut but I’m so nervous that walking all the way across the room feels impossible. I almost pat myself on the back for not throwing up yet, but I hold off. There’s still time. A single seashell nightlight plugged in the far-left corner of the room dimly illuminates the space, but besides that it is dark and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust.
‘Lavender,’ he hums after closing the door behind us, and I walk into the middle of the room, feeling clumsy.
‘Magdalen, actually,’ I supply while smoothing out my sweatshirt, feeling increasingly unsure of where to put my hands.
‘You smart-ass.’ He comes closer to me, and this time I’m convinced I will throw up, so I keep my mouth shut and try not to breathe. The moonlight tries to peak in through the sheer curtains, creating an effervescent glow throughout the room. Theo stands shirtless in front of me, a crooked smile on his lips. ‘You smell like lavender.’ He gathers my fidgeting hands and gently raises them above my head. ‘Honeysuckle,’ he continues to whisper, and runs his fingers along the edge of the sweatshirt. I look down at his hands that begin to raise the sweatshirt off, my heart stammering uncontrollably. In anticipation, or maybe preparedness, when I’d flung on the sweatshirt and shorts, I’d also put on the undergarments Marta picked out. Coincidentally, also lavender-coloured and completely sheer.
‘Why, thank you,’ I say shyly. It feels oddly intimate to be recognized by scent alone. The face I have now will change, age, droop. But in twenty years, he could smell lavender while in a park in New York and think of me.
‘Fair’s fair,’ he murmurs, and goes to pull the thick fabric off me, his hands running up my torso as he does so. Once he reaches the edge of my breasts, he stays there for a moment and takes a sharp breath when he sees the bralette.
‘Before, in the kitchen,’ he says, voice rough, ‘when I was cleaning you up, I had to leave the room because of how beautiful you were.’ I’m mesmerized by him as he retells the story. ‘There you were, sitting on the counter with blood fucking everywhere, and I was trying to control my erection from seeing you touch yourself.’ His knuckles graze over my nipples and I gasp.
‘Mhm, fuck, when did you put these on?’ he asks, mesmerized. His knuckles graze over them again and I let out a small groan as they harden underneath his touch.
‘Couldn’t disappoint Marta,’ I manage to say, despite feeling like I’m going to die.
‘Thank god for Marta.’
44
THEO
The feelings I’ve tried to bury finally escape when I take her in. I let myself feel the ache. For her. For this.
Her eyes lock with mine and I become dizzy with the intimacy. She licks her lips, looking expectant, anxious.
My hands move of their own accord over her breasts and stomach and then I push her shoulders so she falls back onto the bed. Her nipples are completely visible underneath the sheer fabric, desperate to be released. As she sits there with her legs slightly open and breasts exposed just for me, it’s impossible not to want all of her.
She rolls her eyes, trying to close her legs, but I sit down on the bed next to her and rest my hand on the inside of her thigh. She stiffens slightly and I look up to find her staring at my hand, her mouth slacked as if transfixed by the sight of me holding her open. My grip tightens, inching up the inside of her leg, and I’m already so hard I should be embarrassed. Her legs are paler here, and I have a vision of sinking my teeth into her softness. Licking and sucking the untouched skin until she whimpers my name.
‘You have enough innocence to save us all.’ I repeat Anika’s warning aloud from that first night in Chivasso and I look down at my hand, loosening my grip.
‘Excuse me?’ Magdalen abruptly sits up, and I curse myself for saying that out fucking loud.
‘Shit, I’m sorry.’ My head whirls. ‘Anika, she—’
‘Oh, I know Anika says that. Says it to me every morning, in fact.’
Her palm presses against her forehead and she takes a quick glance at the window. She bites her lip as though she’s debating whether or not to say something.
‘I’m not as innocent as Anika thinks.’
My stomach lurches and I must look sick because her eyebrows furrow.
‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’ I edge closer to her, wishing I could tell her that innocence is better than whatever the fuck I am.
‘I’m not offended. Just clarifying.’ She shrugs, parting her legs further.
The image of seeing her for the first time since I came back appears in my mind. Toes in the grass, overalls barely covering her ass, being so surprised at how tall she was when she stood up.
I let myself think the thought I’ve been holding back since the moment I saw her.
I want to be inside her.
I slowly turn my body and kneel on the bed so that I’m over her. We’re the same height like this, our heads inches apart. With only that tiny thong and sheer bra, her nipples taunt me, peeking through the semi-transparent fabric. How has she resisted being with anyone for so long? Images of her and Roberto flash to mind and I inwardly groan. I try to breathe slowly but the nightmare begins again. The noise of ripped fabric is so loud, I shut my eyes.
‘Hey.’ She brushes a piece of my hair behind my ear and I lean into her touch. The need to touch, to be touched by her, is so bad my hands shake.
Opening my eyes, I find Magdalen’s staring back at me, wide and green, full of concern. It’s like she knows. She scoots closer, nodding her head, whispering comforting things that make my eyes prick. Pathetic, I look down. I should tell her. The shame of having his shadow follow me, even at night in a bedroom with Magdalen, miles away, is so heavy that I think about walking out.
But then her fingertips hover next to my cheek, slowly, as if testing whether I’ll run. Never again, Magdalen, I want to say. I only ran because it would scare you how badly I want to stay. I blink slowly, my chin dipping in a short nod, hoping she can see what I’m too afraid for her to hear. She sighs, still looking at me with those beautiful doe eyes. The worry dissolves as her fingertips graze my jaw. I release a breath, my head leaning into her palm.
‘Magdalen,’ I whisper.
‘You’re scaring me,’ she answers, but she’s smiling.
‘Why?’ I lick her cheek, basking in the warmth of her body.
‘I’ve never seen you this way.’
‘You’ve never seen me at all,’ I correct. ‘But I’m okay. I tend to overthink a little sometimes.’ But I’ve seen you, I want to add.
‘I’ve seen you since the moment Titziana Benedetto asked me if she could fuck you,’ Magdalen says, and I’m caught off guard by the memory of uncomfortable sex in that car. Trying to recall that scene, it scares me when I can’t remember her there. Why would Titziana ask her? I feel sick knowing she knew what was happening that night.
‘I threw up after that,’ I confess, the words slipping out before I have time to hide them away.
Her smile disappears, replaced once again with concern.
‘Why?’
‘I . . . I never wanted to have . . . I just—’ I take a deep breath. Try to balance the throbbing in my dick with the awful memory of the smell of stale fast food in that car. Her perfume that reminded me of my grandmother. ‘I wasn’t ready and I did it anyway.’
‘I’m sorry you felt you had to do something before you were ready to.’
Every time she speaks, I feel it on my skin.
Swallowing hard, I open my eyes to find hers pouring into mine. Emotion swirls in the dark green and I grimace at the idea of her pitying me for fucking someone at sixteen. ‘I don’t want to talk about Titziana,’ I say, my hands wrapping about her hips tightly, needing to feel as much of her as I can before I have to let this fantasy go. My head leans into hers and the feeling of her hair brushing my neck is enough . . .
Hasn’t it been obvious, Magdalen? I want to shout. Don’t you know I’ve touched myself to the thought of you?
My fingers trace her neck and she sighs. The sound alone is enough to make my hardness increase tenfold, painfully pressing against my shorts.
My lips brush against her jaw and my hands slide down her body. I grip her ass through the thin fabric, squeezing her closer to me. A groan bubbles in my throat, the feeling of her body against mine is beyond any fantasy. She arches closer towards me until our bodies are flush against one another and I push my hips into hers, wanting her to feel, for her to know she has the control.
My hands slide up her spine to grip the back of her neck, forcing her to look at me. Teeth grazing her cheekbone. A deep hum of pleasure escapes her and I’d do anything to hear that sound again.
I break away for a moment to look at her. Her lips are parted, her pupils wide.
My lips devour hers in one fluid motion. She freezes at first, not expecting the intrusion, but within seconds her lips soften, opening for me, kissing me back. My fingers wrap in her hair, gripping tightly. The fullness of her lips is intoxicating. I can’t help myself; my teeth bite her bottom lip and I stifle a moan. My legs are moving before I realize as I blindly settle between her open thighs.
‘Theo,’ she moans, and I almost come at the sound of my name from her mouth.
‘Since the moment I saw you in the grass.’
She laughs again and when her mouth opens I kiss her again, wanting her laughter to be a part of me. Her lips instinctively part, allowing me entrance with no hesitation this time, and her tongue brushes against mine.
Holy fuck, I think. It’s never felt like this before.
Her hands travel down my chest, fingers gliding across my bare stomach. I press closer into her, needing her to touch me. Magdalen moans and it sets my skin ablaze. I swallow her kisses, devouring her mouth until it is swollen and marked by me. Kissing always felt like a stepping stone, to get what I really wanted. But as I grab her face to bring her closer to me, I realize I want to claim her, brand her with myself, the same way she’s branded me.
