by Elena Armas
Maybe I should tell him.
My lips parted with the words, and I watched his gaze dip to them. The look in his eyes released a flock of butterflies low in my belly.
“Aaron,” I said, but I was distracted by the way he was looking at me. I didn’t think I was dancing anymore. What was I going to say?
“Do you trust me, Catalina?” he asked me.
Yes. The answer flashed across my mind, but I didn’t voice it. There was something that had intercepted the three-letter word. Something I was vaguely aware I needed to remember.
Aaron’s fingers spread, and his thumbs trailed across the fabric of my blouse. One of them slipped beneath the hem. The simple contact sent a wave of pure awareness across my skin.
“You don’t, not yet,” he said against my ear, and then his lips hovered above my cheek, causing my breath to hitch. “But you will trust me; I’ll make sure of it.”
I … I didn’t think I understood that. Not then and probably not anytime soon. But what did that matter when his mouth was so close to mine? When his lips were dancing across my jaw, barely making contact, which only drove me crazy. If I moved, if I just tilted my head and—
A squeal and a hand landing on my arm burst whatever thought had formed in my head.
And the next thing I knew, I was being dragged away from Aaron. Another loud screech hinted at who was behind me, pulling at my arm.
“Lina, nuestra canción!” my sister yelled over the music, stopping us both at a narrow opening, where there was some space.
Our song?
My ears took the song blasting through the speakers as my brain worked out the situation slowly.
It was impossible not to recognize the beat. How could I not when that infamous video of my sister and me dancing to this very same song had been played over and over at family gatherings and Christmas for the last twenty years? Both the music and the choreography were ingrained in my brain forever. “Yo Quiero Bailar” by Sonia y Selena was playing, and that only meant one thing.
“Time to pay up!” Gonzalo cheered.
That was followed by everyone else making as much space as they could around Isabel and me as the rest of Team Bride assembled behind us to deliver the payout for losing the Wedding Cup.
My body came alive with the familiar beat.
“You’ll pay for this, bridezilla,” I yelled over the music as we looked at each other, readying our positions to start the infamous choreography.
“Me?!” she yelled back as we moved our butts in sync. “You’ll thank me later.”
We swirled with our arms up and then shimmied our way down.
“What do you mean?” I demanded as we bumped our hips, following through with the stupid dance.
I was aware of the rest of our improvised array of back dancers from Team Bride somewhere behind us. They were replicating our moves as well as they could. To their credit, I didn’t think my sister’s—or my—drunken attempts were that easy to imitate.
“What I mean is …” Isabel said as we came closer again, faced each other, and high-fived over our heads. Then, we started lowering our bodies to the floor with the beat of the song, making our way down in a way that was supposed to be seductive and probably ended up being unnaturally clumsy. “If your boyfriend’s smoldering eyes are any indication, you are so going to get extra laid tonight.”
Her words had barely entered my ears and registered when I almost landed on my ass.
My head shot to my side, taking in our audience and immediately landing on a very particular set of eyes. Smoldering eyes, as Isabel had just put it. And as my body went through the motions, relying on only muscle memory, I couldn’t tear my gaze off that pair of piercing blue eyes.
I executed the routine almost absently, not able to look anywhere else. Magnetized by those two blue spots that seemed to be ignited with light. And while I could blame the alcohol running through my bloodstream, I couldn’t figure out what his excuse was.
He ate up every ridiculous and silly motion as if he were contemplating something that was more than a routine created by a pair of teenagers a bunch of years ago. He looked at me as if I was more than a grown-ass woman executing a goofy and wacky dance. Like he couldn’t get enough. Just as if he were about to part the crowd and close the distance between us so he could drink in even the smallest of my motions.
I had never been looked at that way. Not ever.
When the song came to an end and transitioned into the next hit from a decade ago, whatever was passing between Aaron and me churned low in my stomach. With urgency. So much that it made me dizzy and flustered and about to crawl out of my skin.
The memory of my body flush against his flickered through my mind. That had only happened a few minutes ago.
My heart raced in my chest as I tried to gather myself, to control my breath. Sweat dripping down my back and arms, an overwhelming sensation made its way across my whole body.
I needed air, fresh air. That always helped.
“I’m going outside for a second,” I told Isabel as I wrapped her in a quick hug.
My sister nodded, distracted by the song playing, which happened to be her new favorite tune in the world. I veered for the door, not daring to look back at Aaron. I couldn’t. I just … couldn’t.
I needed to order my thoughts.
Once I made my way through the sea of dancing bodies, I stepped outside. The night was warm and humid, and I welcomed the breeze from the sea hitting my skin.
The relief was instant but short-lived. Now, my legs seemed to weigh about a hundred pounds each.
But I’d take that over everything I had been feeling back inside. I also regretted every drink I had had tonight. Maybe with a clearer mind, I’d be able to understand whatever the hell was going on. Particularly why my heart seemed to be plotting against me.
Letting myself fall onto the side of the road, I sat, so I could rest my legs. This was a pedestrian area, and only resident cars were allowed to drive through. Given the time, almost three in the morning, chances of being run over were low. So, I took my time, trying to appease whatever was still making my skin flush and tingle.
Eyes shut and elbows on my knees, I focused on the muffled music coming out of the bar.
The door behind me opened and closed quickly after.
I knew he was there before he said anything. He didn’t need to. I was attuned to him, it seemed. To this quiet man whose presence always spoke to me far louder than his words. Not turning back, I listened to his heavy footsteps as he walked to where I was, sitting on the lukewarm pavement of the sidewalk. Aaron let his body fall into place right beside me. His long legs stretched ahead, taking possibly two times the space mine did.
A bottle of water fell softly on my lap.
“You’ll probably want to drink that,” Aaron said.
The overwhelming sensation that had pushed me to walk outside had not dissipated yet, hampering my thoughts.
He nudged my leg with his knee, encouraging me.
I regarded the bottle still on my lap. I was so freaking exhausted all of a sudden, and my arms felt too heavy to reach for it and open it. My whole body felt like that. And Aaron was sitting so close, all big and warm, so inviting for me to lean my head on his arm and close my eyes for just a minute. Just one really short nap.
“No sleeping, baby. Please.” Aaron snagged the bottle from where he had placed it, opened it, and shoved it back in my hand. “Drink up,” he said softly.
Another nudge of his leg.
And what a beautiful leg that was. He probably had more muscles on his quadriceps alone than I had on my whole body. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I took a big gulp of water as I continued my perusal.
That is a very good-looking right thigh, I thought as I returned the bottle to my lap.
A little chuckle had me glancing at the man responsible for it. His lips bent in a lopsided smile, distracting me.
“Thank you,” he said, his smile stretching. “Nobody ha
s ever complimented that particular part of my leg.”
I frowned.
Did I say that out loud?
Ah Hell.
Looking at him, still in silence, I opted to drink some more water. My brain was clearly dehydrated if I was going around, voicing whatever crossed my mind.
“Feeling better?” Aaron asked from my side.
“Not yet,” I gave him a wobbly smile. “But thank you.”
His frown made an appearance, wrinkling his forehead. “I’ll take you back to the apartment. Come on.” The legs I had been so busy admiring flexed, ready to push his body upward.
“No, wait.” My hand landed on that very good-looking—and oh, really hard—thigh, stopping him. “Not yet, please. Can we stay here just for a little while?”
Aaron’s blue eyes seemed to assess something, probably my state. But his big body stayed put beside mine.
“Thanks.” My gaze fell back on his stretched legs again. “There’s something I need to tell you. A confession.” I didn’t look back at him, but I sensed him tense. “I Googled you, just once. But I did.”
Aaron seemed to ponder that for a moment. But he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he snatched the bottle of water from my grip, opened it, and indicated to me to drink some more.
I complied and downed the rest of the contents. Then, he retrieved the empty bottle, and I thought I heard him mutter something, but I wasn’t sure.
“I found lots of stuff, you know. That’s why I only allowed myself to Google you one single time,” I admitted with a sheepish smile. “I was scared of finding something that would change what I thought of you.”
“And did you?”
“Yes, and no.” Had what I found changed the image I had of Aaron? I didn’t think I could answer that. “I probably scrolled down photos upon photos of you until Google had nothing else to show me.”
“That’s a lot of scrolling.”
“I guess.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Do you want to hear about what I found?”
He didn’t answer, so I told him anyway, “There was this one image of you in the middle of the field; your back was to the camera, and you had your golden helmet hanging off your hand. I couldn’t see more than your back, but I swear I could tell what your face looked like. I could picture in my head how your eyebrows were wrinkled on your forehead and how your jaw was bunched up—the way you do when you are upset but you don’t want to show you are.”
Aaron had gone quiet, so I stole a glance at him. He was looking at me, and there was something that looked a lot like shock in his expression.
But I was no-filter Lina tonight, and I didn’t seem to care about talking or revealing too much. “Then, there were the articles,” I went on. “There were more than a few, and they all praised you as a player. As an NFL promise. But then it all stopped. It was as if you had dropped off the face of the earth.”
Aaron’s eyes looked vacant, as if he were no longer there with me, sitting on the sidewalk in the Spanish town that had seen me grow up.
I continued, not because I wanted to press him for details, but because I somehow couldn’t stop from explaining myself, “I don’t think there are many football promises who hang the helmet for the not-so-glamorous life we lead as engineers for a medium-sized technology company.” I didn’t know much about how college football worked, but the little I had read during my Googling session told me I wasn’t wrong. “Ever since you told me about it, I have been wondering what could have possibly led you to make such a decision. An injury? Burnout? How does someone jump from one side to the other?”
I brushed my fingers across his forearm. I thought it would startle him, but it didn’t. Instead, his other hand wrapped around mine, and then he placed our interlaced fingers on his thigh.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.” I squeezed his hand. It was really okay, but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel somehow disappointed. “If you don’t want to tell me.”
Aaron didn’t say anything for a long moment. I used that time to come to terms with the fact that he’d never open up to me. Not that I’d blame him. I hadn’t been completely honest with him about my past either. But as much as I tried to tell myself otherwise, the falling sensation in my chest made it hard to ignore how I really felt. I wanted to know. I wanted to unearth and learn everything about his past because I knew deep inside me that it was the key to finally understanding the man he was today. And him not letting me in only reminded me that I wasn’t different from anybody else.
“Catalina,” he finally said, and he followed that with a deep and tired sigh. “I want to tell you. I’d gladly tell you everything about me.”
My heart decided to resume all those shenanigans I had been dealing with that night. He’ll tell me everything about him.
“But you are barely standing on your own feet. You are in no condition to stay with me for a complete conversation.”
“I’ll stay with you,” I said very quickly. “I am not that drunk. I will listen, I promise.” Even though I was feeling slightly better, there were chances I’d fall on my face if I moved too fast. But that wouldn’t stop me. “I can prove it. Look.” My legs pushed my body up, propelling me in a rather wobbly way. But that didn’t matter. I’d prove to Aaron I was completely fine.
I wasn’t going to let the chance slip through my slightly intoxicated fingers or legs—
A pair of big hands cut my trajectory, holding me by the waist.
“Easy there. Let’s keep the standing to a minimum,” Aaron said as he effortlessly returned me to my former position, right beside him. Perhaps a little closer to his body. Which I wouldn’t complain about. “Do you want to know that badly?”
“Yes. I want to know everything,” I confessed, following no-filter Lina’s lead again.
A humorless laugh left him. “I never planned for this to happen this way.”
My hazy brain didn’t really understand that, but before I could ask, he continued, “I always played football. That was all I knew for almost two decades. My dad was sort of a big deal in the coaching and management world back home, in Washington.” Aaron shook his head, those disheveled, short locks almost flickering under the soft light of the street. “He knew how to spot potential, had done it a million times. He was known for that. So, when he realized I had that raw talent he talked about so much, it was as if all those years of his career had been preparing him for that. For having a son he could mold into the perfect player from the very beginning.”
“He coached you since you were a kid?” I murmured.
Aaron flexed his legs and leaned his elbows on his knees. “More than that. He turned me into his own personal project. He had this kid with potential for becoming everything he had dreamed of, right at home. And he had the tools and the experience to make that possible. There was no room for failure. He worked hard on turning me into this flawless football machine, which he had carefully assembled together since the moment my legs were strong enough to run after a ball and my hands were large enough to hold one.” Aaron paused. He was facing the gloomy street in front of us, and I could see how his profile turned hard. “We both worked on that. And for the longest time, I thrived in it.”
I found myself shifting closer to him until my arm and shoulder were completely flush against him.
“How did that change?” I asked, letting my body lean a little on Aaron’s side. “When did you stop enjoying playing?”
He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, something softening in his expression. “That photo you mentioned earlier?” he asked, and then he faced away from me, staring into the empty street in front of us. “That was the last game I ever played.” Aaron paused, and I could tell he needed a moment to gather himself from the way his voice had sobered. “That happened exactly one year after my mom passed away.”
My heart squeezed in my chest, and I felt this urge to wrap my body around him, so I could shield him from the pain in his voice. But I limited myself to grabbing
his warm hand and slipping my fingers between his. Aaron brought our interlaced hands to his lap.
“In that moment, as I stood there, watching the crowd and my teammates celebrate a victory I couldn’t bring myself to care about, I decided I’d pull out from the draft. And I did.”
“That must have hurt so much,” I told him, my thumb caressing the warm skin on the back of his hand. “All of it, losing your mom and letting go of something you had worked all your life toward.”
“It did, yeah.” His head dipped, and I watched him look at our intertwined hands. “My dad couldn’t understand it. He wouldn’t even try.” A bitter chuckle left him. “My football career had turned into the perfect escape, following Mom’s diagnosis. Instead of that consolidating our father-and-son relationship, it turned us into coach and player instead. Nothing more than that.”
More loss. My heart broke for Aaron. I squeezed his hand and then very slowly leaned my head on his arm.
He continued, “He said I was throwing away my life. My future. That I would fail. That if I did drop an opportunity that would change my life, he didn’t want to have anything to do with me. So, I graduated and left Seattle.”
Aaron still held my hand in his lap; his fingers had tightened around mine as he talked. I kept the side of my head on him as I felt my other hand fly to his forearm. It was the only way I could express how sorry I was for what he had gone through without engulfing him in a tight hug I wasn’t sure I’d be able to let go of. At least, not for the rest of the night.
“It must have been so hard, growing up, limited by someone else’s idea of what you should and should not be.”
He absently played with my fingers, the soft caresses of his skin against mine causing tingles to crawl up my arm. “I realize that now, in hindsight. I never noticed while it happened; it was just how things were. I was given a set of goals, and I simply went with it,” he explained, his thumb trailing up my wrist. “I was never unhappy—at least, not until I realized that perhaps I wasn’t completely happy either.”
“And now? Are you completely happy now, Aaron?”
