Chapter 11
Just love her
Connor
Tilly’s confession broke me.
I knew she was down on herself, but I never realised the trauma ran so deep. To think Tilly could harm herself, or worse, fills me with such unimaginable fear I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything else all evening. I tried to make her something comforting for dinner, but the pasta’s mush and the chicken’s rubber.
Not that Tilly’s eaten enough to notice. She’s pushed the food around her plate, taking miniscule nibbles every now and then, clearly trying to create the illusion that she’s enjoying her meal. But I know her too well for that. I don’t think it’s my cooking that’s the problem here, as atrocious as it is tonight. The incident with the dress is clearly playing on her mind as much as it is mine. And it’s all my fault.
“You planning to eat that or just rearrange it until it’s cold?” The least I can do is make sure she eats something to get herstrength back.
She stiffens, so subtly that I doubt anyone else would have noticed, but I’ve been reading Tilly for years. She knows she’s been caught.
“I’ve had some.” She shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “I just don’t have much of an appetite tonight.”
Bullshit.
“You have to eat, Til. Do I need to do the aeroplane?”
“The what…?”
But before she can finish, I spear some overcooked pasta on my fork and wave it in the air, aiming for her shocked mouth. I add in an aeroplane noise and draw a reluctant laugh from her lips. At least I’ve made her smile. It’s a start.
She giggles, the sound of her light laughter shooting straight to my heart. “You’re ridiculous.”
After my intervention, she manages a few actual bites of her food. Not enough to fuel her properly, but enough to satisfy my burning need to look after her. I take the plates to the kitchen but don’t wash them yet; I’d much prefer to spend the extra minutes with Tilly. I never thought I’d have the chance to sit beside her so casually, so close I could reach out and tuck away that curtain of hair she hides behind, so I’m making the most of it.
“Til?” I ask nervously, interrupting the romcom she’s watching.
“Hmm?” She pulls her attention away from the TV to look at me, apprehension already building behind her eyes. I hate that she always assumes the worst.
“I just wanted to tell you that I liked it.”
“What?” she asks, looking confused.
“The dress. I know you didn’t like what you saw, because you’ve spent years training your mind to hate your reflection, but I saw something else. I thought you looked beautiful.”
Tilly’s eyes dart away from mine, and I feel their absence immediately. Shit, was that too forward? Is that the kind of thing a friend would say, or have I crossed a line?
“Well, it’s clearly time for you to get your eyes checked. I’ll make you an appointment at the optician’s.”
Typical Til, deflecting from anything that makes her uncomfortable. In our old dynamic, I would have let it go. Hell, in our old dynamic I wouldn’t have dared give her a compliment in the first place. But things are different now. I’m not going to let her hide from me anymore.
“I mean it, Tilly. You don’t see yourself the way other people do. I just think you should give it a couple of days, reset, then try the clothes again. You might think differently once your emotions start to settle.”
Tilly tugs at the sleeves of her top, pulling them low over her hands, and shrinks back further into the sofa. Anything to take up less space, attract less attention. She doesn’t answer, just gives me a sad smile and a nod before announcing she’s going to bed.
“Goodnight, Til,” I call as she leaves the room. “See you in the morning for friendship pancakes.”
I’m not afraid to admit when I’m out of my depth. And that’s why I’m calling in reinforcements.
Do I feel guilty for going behind Tilly’s back? Of course. But this is for the greater good. And it’s not like I’m advertising her issues to the whole world, just confiding in one person.
“Hi, arsehole!”
“Hi, Ivy,” I answer with an eye-roll that would make Tilly proud.
