“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, I-” What do I even say? How do I even explain Chad? How do I tell him anything without making him think I regretted last night?
He gently extends a hand, and instead of taking it, I crumple into his embrace, having nowhere else to go on the too-small cot. He holds me, a tender embrace that makes me feel so safe even as I reconcile the fact that I just yelled at him. Finally, he speaks, his voice rumbling out from his chest into my soul. “All I meant was it was like that first night. You know, behind the bar. You had that same look. I know we are still getting to know each other, but I think there are some things I already understand.”
I choke in a sob. I don’t want him to be understanding. I want him to be an asshole like all the others. “How could you? How could you know what it’s like to always have your body and your mind working against you?”
He holds me so tight as I utter those words, gentle and firm in equal measure, as if he’s trying to pull whatever pain I’m feeling into himself. He doesn’t say anything for a long while, just letting us both linger in the moment, letting my erratic heart sputter until finally I understandI’m not alone, I’m here with him, my heartbeat slowing to match his. Only then does he finally speak.
“Remember I told you about wrestling?”
“Yeah,” I mutter into the crook of his arm.
“I wasn’t ‘too soft.’” His words come out so sullen, like he’s embarrassed. “I would get panic attacks. I tried so hard to be the macho wrestler my friends, my uncle, and even my body wanted me to be. But then every time I tried, every time I was about to get on the mat, in front of a crowd of people, I would freeze. I would get panic attacks. My heart would rattle in my chest, I would vomit, and then I would lose. One cosmic joke of a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
His honesty flows off him in waves, an ethereal warmth that fills me, enraptures me with his every word. He rests his head on mine before continuing. “Took me a long time to learn I don’t do well in big crowds. I barely do well at the bar. That’s why I wanted to help you so bad when you stumbled out the back door that first night. That’s why I recognize that look in your eyes now. Because I’ve lived it, over and over again.”
I pull back, trying to reconcile the charismatic Adonis with the tragic figure he claims to be. “But, you’re so, you!”
“Like you said, you barely know me.”
I think back to last night, to the bizarre shift in appearance, how swapping a tight shirt for a large button-down and moving him from one side of the bar to the other could do so much to change my perception of him.
As my eyes trace the smooth lines of his face, even as he struggles to make eye contact with me, lost in shame, I know now is my turn to be brave. “I have to come clean about something, too. I’m not just here on a girls' trip. In fact, I was supposed to be swearing off relationships for a while, or at least that’s what my friends had suggested. Bad breakup and all.”
He gives me a knowing look, as if I hadn’t dropped enough breadcrumbs until now. His lips purse as he struggles to get out his next thought. “Do you regret last night?”
My entire face shifts, concern and longing fighting for dominance. “No! Never! That’s the most alive I’ve felt since, well, I first woke up! It’s just, things are messy, and you’re amazing, and I don’t know what this is.”
He leans in, planting a soft kiss on my lips before leaning back, his forehead pressing to mine. “Like you told me last night, it doesn’t have to be anything, not unless you want it to be. For now, I’m just grateful I’m here with you.”
His words are so reassuring, yet I worry whether they are enough.
Chapter nine
Meet the Monsters
Since getting back to the motel, the day has been divided into an uneasy truce. Manny has been nothing but charming, taking us to his favorite hangouts and eateries, places where everyone seems to know exactly who he is, despite his description of his introverted nature. Meanwhile, Gabby has been extremely kind, grateful Manny hasn’t asked the typical slew of stupid questions people usually ask when they meet vampires or ghouls for the first time. At the same time, V continues to glare at him like he’s about to explode. Between indoor go-karting, a bookstore, a bakery, and the first proper wine bar V could tolerate, this has been the most enjoyable day since getting to Orlando, and yet the judgment oozing off my friends just keeps it from being anymore than good.
We pull up to the fried chicken spot Manny told us about, some old haunt he frequents when he’s feeling nostalgic, and I turn off the car.
“I still can’t believe you have a classic BMW 750iL.” I keep expecting his constant praise and enthusiasm for every little thing about me to get tiresome, but it just keeps coming off as endearing. “It’s even the same color as the one in the movie!”
“What movie?” V finally relents.
“Tomorrow Never Dies,” Gabby, Manny, and I all say in unison.
“The Pierce Brosnan flick?”
“With Michelle Yeoh,” I add.
“My all-time fave. I pined for this car,” Manny says as his eyes linger on it before nearly running into a glass door labeledTendersin big swirly font.
In a pattern that continued from earlier in the day, the moment we walk in, the guy behind the register looks up with recognition and a toothy grin. “Manny! What an entourage.”
“Sal, don’t embarrass me,” Manny huffs back, before turning to me. “Hey, do you like Top Gear?”
“The British car show?” I ask, trying to hold back stunned excitement that someone else actually watches that silly import of television. “Yeah!”
Manny looks back at Sal, then nods towards the TV, and, as if reading his mind, Sal already has the remote inhand, changing the TV in the corner from some European soccer match to a channel that seems to play only reruns of Top Gear. Manny looks back at us with the smile of a kid on Christmas. “I gotta make a pitstop, but y’all go ahead and order. Sal knows my order, y’all get whatever you want. Don’t worry about paying, Sal won’t let you pay even if you wanted to.”
