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Chapter Twenty-Eight

Tobias

We get up to shower. At least, that’s what I think we’re doing, only when we get into the bathroom, Theo gets everything ready but then tries to walk out.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“I, uh… was going to let you shower.”

“You don’t want to join me?”

He glances from me to the shower. “Didn’t want to impose.”

I slide the shower door open, and gesture inside. “Get in.”

With pink cheeks, he walks past me into the large shower.

It could easily fit four people. The tiles are a mix-match of tan and black with a large rain shower head and a digital faucet.

I’m not surprised he has fancy shit in his house.

From the outside, it looks like the average person’s house, but once you get a look inside, you see where the money is.

You see it in the furniture, the shower head, his soft sheets, and shiny silver appliances .

I’ve never been intimidated by money, not since I’ve been making my own.

Even growing up, we weren’t poor. We got by and had money to splurge sometimes, but I never had an excessive amount of it—especially after Dad died.

And I bet what I consider excessive now is nothing compared to what Theo has to spend.

When I have a date, I’m bringing home a minimum of eleven hundred bucks.

That’s just one date. I’m not hurting for cash, and maybe what I’m feeling isn’t about money exactly.

Maybe it’s just about not belonging. About being with someone like Theo, when, if for some reason, I felt like I could take a leap and have a relationship, it’ll never work because of his family.

Disappointment, maybe? Resentment? I don’t fucking know.

We take turns washing up, and when we’re done, he hands me a fluffy white towel that’s warm. I smirk and he rolls his eyes.

“It’s nice,” he comments, obviously reading my mind.

“I didn’t say a word.”

“You think I’m some rich brat, don’t you?”

“No.” I shake my head. “You aren’t a brat at all. Rich, yes. Spend your money on stupid conveniences? Yes. But I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same.”

“Can’t you? I’m sure you make plenty of money.”

“I guess I could, but I’d rather buy season tickets for football games and travel to Europe. ”

We head back into the bedroom, where we get dressed. Theo caps the whiskey but leaves it on his nightstand. Maybe he's hoping to play again.

“I’m cool with you hanging around if you want, but we should stay in here, so we don’t disturb Biscuit.”

I huff out a laugh. “Just like a baby.” I shake my head. “I’m fine hanging out in here for a bit.”

“You want some water or something? Soda? Food?”

“Water would be good, yeah.”

He leaves the room and returns a moment later with two bottles of water.

We get comfortable on the bed. I get on the side that I assume isn’t his, based on the clock being on the other side.

We lean against the headboard, ankles crossed, as he grabs the remote to search for something to watch.

The TV mounted on the wall across from us is bigger than the one in the living room, which is a surprise. Usually, it’s the other way around.

“So, you’re a sports guy?”

I shrug. “My dad and I always watched football together. Never got to go to a game together, though.” He brings his attention back to the TV as he scrolls. “I’m sorry about the other day,” I say. “The last time I was here.”

“Sorry for what?” he asks, his voice neutral, gaze still on the TV.

“My freak out.”

He puts the remote down and looks at me. “You don’t have to be sorry for that. ”

I force a small smile, then stare down at my hands. He goes back to scrolling.

I’ve never shared the story about my father and my mother with anyone. It’s a burden I’ve carried with me for twenty years. Maybe that’s why it’s weighing me down so much. Maybe if I let a little bit of it go, to someone who won’t judge me for it, it’ll help.

“My mother was cheating on my father.”

Theo turns toward me with sympathy clear on his face.

I nod and continue. “My sister has no idea. I only knew because I heard them fighting over it. My father left because he was angry and needed to cool off.” My throat gets tight, and I clear it before adding, “He never came back.”

“Fuck,” Theo says under his breath. “I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

“My mother knows I know. We never talked about it, but she put two and two together when I was so pissed at her after he died. My sister thinks I’m just a royal asshole who hates our mother for no reason. It’s not that I hate her, it’s just…”

“If she weren’t cheating on him, he never would have left angry.”

“Yeah…”

His face is full of pain for me. Hurt. All the things I feel every time I think about it.

“My sister also thinks he was on his way to the store to get me a new basketball, since he and I were supposed to do that.” I feel his gaze on me, but I keep mine on my hands. “Maybe he was. I’ll never know.” I look over at him. “I’m sorry if I’m over-sharing, I’ve never told anyone that before.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He takes my hand, linking our fingers together. I stare down at our entwined hands, unable to form words or thoughts over how perfectly they fit together. How… right this all feels.

“The one guy I had a serious relationship with, Brandon, he cheated on me,” I then add, and have no idea why I’m spilling all of this to him.

His fingers twitch, and I look up at him.

“I hope you don’t think I was forcing you to leave Marianne for me or anything, but as you can see, cheating is just a hard line for me. ”

“I get it,” he says, his voice raspy.

I hate killing the mood by giving him all my sad shit, but a small part of me feels lighter after sharing this with him. I trust him, in some ways. I’m not sure I will ever be able to trust someone completely, thanks to Brandon, but Theo is close.

“Thank you for listening,” I say, giving him a real smile this time. His is forced, and he nods, then goes back to the TV.

After a few moments, the tension in the room dwindles. He finds a movie to put on, and with our hands comfortably together, we rest back and watch it.