Page 100 of Grease Monkey
Every minute I’m in the shower is torture. Every possible scenario floods my brain as to why he’s here and makes my stomach churn so viciously that I have to jump out of the shower to vomit again. My head swims, dizziness starts, and all I want is to curl up in a ball and hide from the world.
I stare through the crack in the bedroom door, watching as he sits on the sofa and looks around. I quickly shove a shirt and sweats on, rolling the waistband up a few times around my hips. I don’t understand why he’s here. What does he need to talk about? Pretty sure we both made ourselves clear the last time we spoke.
He’s flicking through his phone when I walk into the living room, my coffee and Gatorade set on the small wooden table at the edge of the couch. Sitting on the far end, as far away from Teddy as possible, I take a sip of the coffee, the instant taste of vanilla dulling my hangover.
“I’m sorry about last night,” I say, deciding it’s best to rip the Band-Aid off and get that out there while being completely unable to look anywhere else but at my cup. “Shay said I was in some state, so I can only apologize that you had to take care of me.”
He’s quiet, so I force myself to look up at him. His eyes are stuck on my chest, but he quickly averts his gaze and clears his throat.
“It’s fine.” His tone isn’t exactly emotionless, but it doesn’t have the kind, soft pitch he had years ago or the hard-edged gruffness he usually adopts when he’s with me now. I don’t know how to decipher it.
“But still, it was nice, and you didn’t have to do it, so thank you.”
“You’ve still got it.”
“Got what?” I ask, confused.
His eyes flick back to my chest, and I look down. My mouth dries as I see what I’m wearing, what Shay chose for me, and I didn’t pay attention. I pull at the hem of the shirt, the Pink Floyd logo stretching out flat in front of me.
“Oh, yeah,” I say, lifting my legs and tucking them up to my chest, hiding the shirt from view. “I couldn’t bring myself to bin it.”
He nods, his eyes glued to the shirt he can no longer see.
“And the sweats? Couldn’t throw them out either?”
“Oh shoot, these are yours too?” He nods. “I thought they were an old pair of Skip’s. God, I’ve been wearing these almost every weekend for years thinking they were my brother’s. They’ve even got a hole in the crotch.”
I go to move to show him, but stop as soon as one leg drops, remembering where I am and who I’m with. I smile awkwardly and Teddy shifts in his seat. We’re silent for what could be minutes, but it feels like hours. Teddy flicks his phone in his hand again, and I slowly finish my coffee.
“Teddy…” “Ana…” we both say simultaneously, and I nervously smile, waving my hand in the air. “Sorry. You go.”
He puts his phone face down on the sofa, moves to the edge, and takes a deep breath before saying, “Last night, you said something about your mom.”
A cold sweat prickles my spine, and I can almost feel the blood draining from my face.
“Yeah? What about her?” I ask, tremors lacing my voice.
He turns, pinning me with his dark eyes. “What did you mean, your mom would ruin my family?”
The hairs on my arms rise, and the dizziness I felt earlier is more debilitating now as my legs weaken and my brain screams for me to run.
If I find out you’ve so much as sniffed in his direction, I will ruin him and his family.
“I…”
“What did you mean?”
I push off the sofa, trying to distance us, but Teddy doesn’t let me. He follows, matching me step for step as he rounds on me.
“She’s the reason you broke up with me. I’ve always known it. What did she say?”
“Teddy, please don’t do this.”
“Tell me, Ana.” His eyes beg for me to let him in. “Whatever happened, we can fix it.”
“Stop, Teddy.”
He eats up the remaining distance, taking one step toward me and wrapping his large hands around my arms. Even though he isn’t working today, the smell of oil swamps my nose, like it’s permanently part of his scent now.
