Every week I discover something new about Caroline as a person that just makes me care about her more than I ever thought could be possible. Romance isn’t something that I thought I would ever want for or pursue. Even now, I’m not pursuing anything. I’m just enjoying it. I’m hoping for more of it.
-_~* Week 11 *~_-
Caroline stood next to the bed with crossed arms and her fading orange hair hanging loosely around her cheeks. Though she probably means to look imposing, all Santiago sees in her expression is a curious disappointment. His stomach deflates the second he turns his head away from her to avoid the confrontation.
“I don’t think you like Anya,” she remarks coolly, unmoving and stiff. She is in the very edge of his peripheral vision, but he would still be able to detect any movement she makes easily. Caroline must really want answers.
If he had known that she was going to question him about this, he would have been slower to invite her over for wings and a movie to pass yet another Friday night together. It is starting to look like getting “Wings of a Feather” will be a waste of a cozy dinner if this turned into an interrogation. Having ‘state award-winning’ wings don’t taste nearly as good when angry tension fills the room.
Still, concern tingles in the back of his mind, and he forces himself to answer her question. “No.”
“Why?” she demands, though it sounds more like an afterthought in the way that she flops herself next to him on his bed with a high-pitch upturn in her tone.
Santiago doesn’t know how to answer, though – it isn’t because there’s a lack of words. There are some things that don’t get discussed in great detail until a certain point in a friendship or a relationship, and the entire legal case surrounding his parents’ deaths is a massive detail that he’s continued to leave out in all conversations. It’s an easy thing to gloss over, really, since his financials are being run by the attorney’s office. Mentioning that they are also pursuing a wrongful death suit isn’t important. There’s nothing that Santiago even has to do with it, really; he just has to sign papers when they call, which he does within a day or two, and then carries on as if nothing is any better or worse since he lost his mom and dad.
But the hard truth is that the man who was behind the wheel of the vehicle that killed his parents was having a “psychotic episode,” according to the police report, and was on his way to kill himself. The man was erratic, unpredictable, and dangerous. Somewhere there is someone who was responsible for making sure this man was sane, that he was valued, and that he was safe from himself. Somewhere there was a mental health professional – a psychologist, a psychiatrist, a physician – that failed him.
Somewhere there is a doctor that failed their patient.
Instead of telling her the truth, he sighs. “Does it really matter if I like her?”
“I just want to understand why,” she starts, “because you were really mean to her and it’s been bothering me.”
Of course, it would be concerning if she wasn’t bothered by his behavior in some capacity. Admittedly, he hates himself for taking his frustrations out on Anya. Santiago understands how irrational he is being towards her. Even if he doesn’t have anything in particular that he hates about her or anything about her that she’s done that he hates, he cannot help but wonder if she has let a patient’s well-being slide. All he sees is the pain being caused in his current life because of someone who likely had her same job and failed.
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” the growl comes from his throat too easily. Deflecting the conversation is so natural that he’s almost convinced that he’s not actually avoiding anything. Caroline will know better, he’s sure, but if she knows him the way he thinks that she does…
Caroline places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. “Whatever it is – please just remember that Anya is one of the good ones. Maybe she’s not perfect, and maybe sometimes she doesn’t make sense, but she cares a whole lot more than some people would about people like us.”
Relief floods his brain as she decided not to press him for more information. He should’ve known that she would never make him talk about it if she could see he wasn’t ready. Santiago adds this trait to the list of things he loves about her. Smirking and ready to relax, Santiago points to the carry out boxes at the edge of the bed, “I got jalapeńo poppers and two different sauces. Ten wings are honey barbeque and the other ten are buffalo sauce.”
Caroline reaches for the buffalo sauce container and pulls it onto her lap. “I’ll be having these, thanks,” she declares joyfully. All hints of the previous topic are gone. Already pulling a bone-in wing to her lips, he realizes that he needs to act fast if he wants any of the buffalo ones.
“Let’s split them down the middle,” he suggests, deliberately calm and smooth in his approach. It catches her attention and she considers it for a very long time. So long, in fact, that she eats two more of the buffalo wings while she mulls over the possibility of sharing.
Caroline shrugs and then smiles at him. “I guess that would be fine. Get that other box over here before I accidentally eat them all.”
“Accidentally, my ass,” he jokes, reaching out for the honey barbeque box. They happily swap their wings around and get comfortable on the bed. Before he gets too messy, though, he has to put the movie on. He had put the remote on his bedside table, and it dawns on him that he’s going to have to reach over Caroline’s body to get it.
Careful not to put his hands anywhere to make her drop her box or invade her personal space, Santiago somehow manages to get his hand on the remote pretty easily. It takes a moment to regain his balance from the shifting weight on the mattress, and as he does find his steadiness, Caroline surprises him with a kiss on his cheek.
Surely it is faster in real time, but in Santiago’s mind, it is slow motion and sticky. He can feel every single second her lips are pressed onto his skin as if it lasts for hours. The air falls out of his lungs as he pulls back as quickly as he can to make the weight on the bed even again. He avoids looking at her eyes or her expression, too shy to respond to her romantic act in any way.
“Thanks for always feeding me,” she hums before tearing away at another chicken wing. After she starts chewing she moans in satisfaction. “There’s a reason these are the best wings in the state.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, fumbling with the remote, his fingers shaking as he tries to hit the ‘play’ button. His mind is still on the kiss while she’s already moving onto the next thing, in a way that only Caroline can manage to do. “We should make this our Friday night thing, right?”
And maybe there’ll be more kisses, too, he thinks to himself. That would be nice. “Definitely.”
>>> O h >>> l o o k >>> there’s another chapter already
Acknowledgements
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