by Lym Cruz
Erica raised a brow. “So?”
“Just saying.”
I removed Erica’s hair from her eyes. “I like to see people’s faces when I talk to them.” I did my best impersonation of David staring deep into her blue eyes. “You shouldn’t hide those lovely eyes.” Erica’s cheeks glistened bright pink and she let out a peal of nervous laughter.
Christina and I laughed unable to contain ourselves.
Erica blushed further to a deep scarlet shade. “Shut up!” Her squeaky command only made us laugh louder. She pushed me, and I fell to my side, crunching over the shopping bags. “You guys are, like, so childish.”
Still amused, Christina handed her two shoe boxes. “Try on these, the ones you feel comfortable in is the one we’ll take. I highly recommend the nude ones though.”
Erica opened the boxes, and I peeked in. “I agree. Nude will look smashing with your dress.”
After paying for our things, Erica announced that we had one more stop to make. She guided us to a hair salon and to our surprise she shortened her bangs.
“No more jokes.” Erica juddered her newly shortened bangs. “Everyone can see my eyes now,” she said, widening her eyelids.
“Mm-hm,” Christina and I murmured.
After our shopping spree was completed, we ended up at my place. My entire apartment was renovated per my dad’s insistence. It was a little over the top for a college student, but Dad said if I wanted to be alone here, at least he had to know I was safe and living in a decent place.
The apartment was one-bedroomed with an open-plan kitchen, leading to the small sitting room. The living space spanned along the narrow width of the condo and was occupied by an L-shaped couch and a coffee-table. The walls were beige clashing strikingly with the soft red curtains and the various shades of brown from the furniture.
We tossed the bags on my bed. Erica and Christina went to the kitchen to get something to eat while I headed to the en-suite to run myself a bath. When the water filled the tub and the bubbles from the soap formed, I lowered myself into it, unable to get comfortable. The rigidity of the tub on my back irked. Wriggling, I tried to find a comfortable position. It was useless. I was uneasy and I knew why. Every time I closed my eyes an involuntary recollection swamped my mind. I tried to force the thoughts away but they were too strong.
I brought my hands to my chest trying to ease the sorrow brought along with the memories. I trusted Andrew without knowing him that night, six years ago, because of the way he looked at me. It was different. I couldn’t explain, but it was different from the way the other men looked at me. He desired me, yes, but there was something further, I thought he saw beyond the façade. I figured he registered my pain. It was silly to think so then, and now I was sure it was my mind playing tricks on me. I wasn’t even sober.
Christina stormed into the bathroom, startling me. “You can’t stay there forever.” She leaned against the wall looking down at me. “Tell me what’s wrong?” The compassion in her eyes made me feel guilty for not telling her what the real problem was. “You’ve been weird since this Andrew guy showed up. You know you can trust us with whatever, don’t you?”
Erica followed in with a towel draped around her body and positioned herself next to Christina. “Is it about tonight? ‘Cause if it is, we can totally stand them up.”
“God,” I murmured, sitting up. “I think I like him, but I don’t want him in my life.”
“Why not?” Erica shrugged. “You’ve just met him. You barely know the guy.”
How I wish that were true. I loved my friends. I wanted to tell them but I feared they would think less of me if they knew all about my past and I wanted our relationship to remain the same.
“Babe, listen, we’ll go dancing and if they do show up and you’re uncomfortable, just say the word and we’ll leave. No questions asked. Promise.” Christina crossed her middle finger over the index one and kissed the knot, then moved forward and took my right arm. Erica did the same with the left and together they hauled me out of the bathtub.
Just before sunset, we were dressed and posed in front of the mirror for a selfie.
“One more,” Christina said, and we stood for a few extra pictures when the intercom buzzed.
“It’s him.” Erica rushed to answer in a tight micro-dress. “Ian’s downstairs.”
Half turned to the mirror, I inspected the back of my dress. It was fully open, the low-cut almost showed the lines of my thong. The front of the dress was simple and black. To finish my outfit, I slipped on black ankle strap stilettos.
“Move your butt.” Christina drove me away from the mirror. “Trust me you’re awesome.”
Christina was in a black dress as well but she was a conservative dresser. She kept everything concealed, what made the dress a killer was the way it accentuated her curves. I let her drag me to the front door and I locked up, dunked the keys into my purse, and swung it around my body as we ran to the elevators. Shaking my curls, I inspected my reflection through the aluminum doors.
I was fine. Tonight, was going to be fine.
When the car door opened, we strode across the lobby receiving an appreciative whistle from the kind doorman. He had to be at least forty and had professed his love for Christina on many occasions. Unfortunately for him, the feeling wasn’t mutual.
Waiting for us on the sidewalk, was Ian, dressed in a white dress shirt and dark blue jeans. His dark eyes twinkled when he noticed us.
“Hello, ladies!” Ian said, rubbing his hands. “I’m one lucky son of a bitch. All the men at the bar will envy me when I walk in with the three of you. They always do.”
We joined our hands, and chanted in harmony, “We’re awesome like that.”
Ian shook his head chuckling, then drew Erica to him and gave her an over-the-top kiss. Christina rolled her eyes and marched towards the car. “C’mon, cut it out, I really would like to get going.”
I took the time of the drive to put my head in order. I could take care of myself and I was going to show Andrew that. The bathroom scene would not repeat itself tonight.
We arrived at Vella, a Latin bar. Ian insisted on opening the door for us. He rounded the car, unbolted the front passenger door for Erica and the back door for us simultaneously. Once inside, music was all I heard and felt. I swayed my hips to the sound of the salsa the six-piece band played as we sauntered up the stairs to the tabled area by the balcony overlooking the stage and dance floor below. I enjoyed watching other dancers skim the dance-floor, liked seeing them move with the dramatic lighting focused on them.
As nightfall crept, a different person walked in every minute filling the space and my head turned to the door whenever there was movement wondering if they’d walk in.
The predominant language spoken at the bar was Spanish. Even though my Spanish was weak, I felt like I belonged. The atmosphere was different and Latino-ish. I focused on the flags dispersed around the bar, attempting to guess which country each belonged to as a form of distraction.
Lala, a waitress, approached and propped a beverage and snack menu in the center of the table and said, “Familia, sean bienvenidos. What are you having tonight?”
“The usual,” Ian answered grinning. “Margarita for Christina. Paloma for Erica and Caipirinhas for Mel and I.”
“Be right back.” Lala winked.
The flags quickly became boring and I was, again, constantly glancing at the entrance whilst tapping my feet to the music.
Erica gently squeezed my shoulder and whispered, “Chill! They might not even come.”
I curved my lips up and offered a smile, needing a drink to loosen up. Almost as if Lala heard my silent plea, she returned balancing a tray with four glasses. She set them on the table and went about waiting on other arriving customers.
On one long breath, I sucked on my straw gulping down my drink. It was cool and tasted just right. The strong taste of the cachaça reminded me of home. How I missed home. Needing another distraction, I looked down an
d watched three couples on the dance-floor. I smiled. One couple was outstanding but the other two were amateurs purely having fun.
I looked back up in time to see two guys stop by our table. They were both attractive enough and carried themselves with confidence, their stance loose and comfortable as most men in here.
“Can I take you for a dance?” The taller one asked Christina. She nodded and went with him down the stairs. Ian hung a hand around Erica’s shoulder and towed her closer.
The shorter guy chuckled noticing Ian’s move and offered his hand to me. I took it and followed him down the stairs. Nothing cleared my mind faster than the dance floor. The band was playing a rhumba. The soulful voice of the male singer along with instruments sent a spasm of excitement all over me.
On the dance floor, the man quickly brought me to his chest taking up a dance posture. He began moving, and I followed, keeping up with every step, twirl, and turn. He was good. After a couple of minutes, I was laughing at his weak pick-up lines. Then my usual dance partner, Ezra, tapped in.
Ezra was a nice guy, sweet and all, with long chestnut hair he wore back in a rough ponytail. Lean and dark eyed. He and I were a perfect match when it came to dancing. Ezra had prodigious hip motion and a fast tempo.
“Trying to replace me?” Ezra teased.
“I could never find anyone who dances the way you do.”
“Remember that.” He smiled and kissed my cheek.
We danced lively to every song, taking breaks in between to catch our breaths. I could do this all night.
Sometime during the night, the band played my favorite rhythm, the samba. Ezra and I started off together but as the tempo accelerated, he let me go to do my thing.
And my thing, I did. Sweat slid from my forehead down my cleavage, causing the material of my dress to stick to my stomach and chest as the beat incorporated into my soul. My feet moved faster and faster. The band always tested my limits whenever they played the samba accelerating to a breaking point for all the other dancers and regardless of their efforts to make me cave-in, I never did. I grew up doing this.
My hair bounced with the rest of my body with my increasingly hurried steps. Soon the dance floor was empty, everyone else had given up. I knew all eyes were on me, and I adored it, performing was something I missed. The sound of the crowd clapping and cheering ignited a fire in me that kept me going. But then I glanced up and nearly lost my balance. I spun, masking my near fall.
There he was. Watching me. He came after all.
I continued to dance until the percussionist hit the last beat and then took a bow, while the applauding crowd hailed and whistled. I placed my hands on my waist, easing my breathing, unable to resist glancing up, catching Andrew’s broad grin. He was on his feet clapping.
Ezra came to my rescue and helped me to a chair. “You never fail to impress.” He handed me a glass of water and a face towel.
I was breathing so hard that I had to open my mouth to take in greater chunks of air. I could feel my blood pump rapidly on every vain of my body. I took the towel and wiped the sweat off my face. From my lashes, I briefly looked up. Andrew was still watching me, but this time his mouth was set to a firm line, and his brows were tapered.
My hands were shaky when I took the glass of water from Ezra and downed it thirstily. Soon after, my heartbeat eased and I was able to breathe somewhat normally through my nose.
“I’ll go out for some air,” I said, still a little breathless.
“Do you need me to go with you?”
“No, thanks.” I shook my right index finger. “The show must go on.”
Ezra laughed and almost on cue a girl asked him for a dance. He looked at me seeking approval, which he did not need, and I nodded, encouraging him to go. Ezra took the girl’s hand and led her to the dance floor that was crowding again.
When my breathing was under control and I could fully feel my legs, I swirled carefully past the dance floor, not wanting to disturb anyone, towards the open foyer doors leading to the back deck illuminated with colorful light bulbs. The lights outlined a path down the stairs to the ocean sand.
I stepped down the few flights of stairs to the sand and took off my shoes, abandoning them nearby and strolled to the beachfront. The light from the deck didn’t reach as far, the only luminescence available was the picturesque moon above me.
It was a warm night with a glittery sky. The fresh ocean airstream made me shiver, and goosebumps covered my arms. Inhaling the breeze sparkled with the salty sea aroma, I stood facing the mass of water, capturing the pleasant sound of the crashing waves that drifted to the shore and wet my feet.
“Is he your boyfriend?”
I turned, finding Andrew a few feet away. I knew he would follow me. I walked towards him and the closer I got the more I noticed how Andrew was a spectacle, unquestionably handsome. Even through the darkness, I felt the glow in his brown eyes. I liked him in a suit, but he was as charming in a blue polo shirt and jeans.
“That’s none of your business,” I said once I reached him.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s an answer just not the one you were looking for. What do you want, Andrew?”
He stepped closer towards me. “You, Melissa. I want you.”
I was expecting that answer as I’d been waiting for him to follow me. I stretched out my hand, and he grasped it with his large palm. The current was definitely there, but I tried to ignore it.
We headed back to the path of the bar, bypassing a few drunkards running around the beach rattling and laughing. We didn’t make it to the deck though, I took him around the corner to a tiny room where empty boxes and bottles were stored for recycling. Also known as the make out room. I opened the door, led him in and flickered on the light that was as dim as candlelight. Even from down there, the bass of the music vibrated under my feet.
The room was swamped with boxes neatly packed against the wall and stacked cases of empty bottles. There was barely any space in there. But space was needless for what was coming next.
Three inches at most separated us. Andrew had his eyes glued on mine, he was calm and simply waited. Taking initiative, I went to him and stood on my heels attempting to level my mouth to his. Andrew still had to bow his head. I stayed put staring at him.
Eye on eye.
Andrew leaned in and placed a light kiss on my lips, slightly, I parted mine inviting him in. His hands found their way to my hair and slithered to my bare back urging me closer. He slipped his tongue in my mouth and it collided with mine. I moaned, pressing my thighs together hoping it would ease the sizzling ache growing with the kiss. I dreamed of moments like these for years. However, nothing came close to reality. My breasts weighed heavy on my chest and I forced myself closer to him, encircling my hands around his strong back. Andrew’s fingers dug into my skin as he kissed me deeper with desperation.
Brusquely, I backed away gasping for air. There was that look in his eyes again, it was lust, desire, and something else I’d mistaken for understanding or maybe concern.
Andrew knitted his brows confused by my reaction. “What’s wrong, Mel?”
Mel. It sounded good coming from his mouth. I raised my hands and undid the bow behind my neck, the dress slid down my body forming a black puddle at my feet. I stood in front of him in nothing but a tiny black thong that didn’t cover plenty.
Andrew’s breath hitched at the sight. “Fuck. Mel, you’re beautiful.”
“I know,” I answered flatly. “I’ve heard that all my life. It’s all men see. My beauty. My body. So, Andrew here I am.”
I opened my arms and pivoted so he could get a good look and then our eyes met again. “Take me. Fuck me. I don’t remember a lot but I’m sure I passed out that night, so come get what you paid for. It’s what you want, isn’t it? To you, I’ll always be a mulata whore.”
Andrew blinked and dropped his face, glaring down at the floor.
“I thought you were different. I thought I saw s
omething else in you but I was mistaken.” My voice quivered and dropped. “You’re like all the others.” It hurt further than I thought to say the words aloud. “Look at me.” I raised my shaky voice. Andrew slowly lifted his eyes that were clouded with guilt or possibly shame. “Take what you paid for and I hope you enjoy it.”
“Melissa… I didn’t mean it like that.”
I laughed wryly. “Is that so? Then how did you mean it?”
“I…I,” he stammered unable to formulate a sentence and lowered his eyes.
I pulled up my dress sensing a sting in my eyes as tears threatened. I forced myself not to blink, if I did, hopeless tears would roll down my cheeks. And there was no way in hell I’d let him see me cry.
“Please stay away from me. I’m no longer in business, and I’ll always be the best you never had.” I needed him to leave me alone, and it seemed as though he got the message this time.
With my hand on the doorknob, I turned, gave Andrew one last gaze, a disillusioned one. He tilted his head to face me with glum eyes. The man I envisioned as my rescuer was nonexistent, it was all in my head. My Andrew was fictitious, I made him up and it was time to move on.
Without regret, I walked out and slammed the door, leaving him behind.
I blinked.
A hot tear fell down my face, followed by a stream of them. I fell apart, sobbing with the agonizing anguish building in my chest. So, I ran. It wouldn’t be the spark in his brown eyes or his magical smile that sent waves of heat through me, every time I saw him that would break me.
I was flawed but not damaged. I was cracked but not broken.
I intended on staying that way, cracked but in one piece.
Chapter 5
Andrew
Monday morning the alarm went off shaking my brain awake. I groped, hitting it and the clatter subdued. I rubbed my eyes and pushed up on my elbows, feeling movement on the other side of the bed.
Orange hair was spattered on the pillow next to me. I tried to remember her name: it was Sally, or Cindy, or possibly Sandy. Fuck, I had no idea. All I recalled was picking her up at the bar last night after drinking more than I should have.
