Gulp. Do I ever feel like a selfish jerk.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Javi.” I try to give him a reassuring smile, but I’m quite sure my mortification at being such a self-centered brat shows right through to my face. “Don’t worry, Coralea kept me busy and entertained, so much so that I almost forgot you were gone.”
“Really?” he asks, tilting his head, an expression of disbelief on his face.
“Nah, just kidding. Of course I knew you were gone!” I laugh.
“I see you’re still wearing the ring.” Javi nods toward the diamond on my right hand.
“Of course. I’m never taking it off. Ever,” I say, placing my left hand protectively over it. “And you can’t have it back, either!” I’m trying to joke with him, but for some reason it comes out of my mouth sounding a little too fierce.
“I don’t want it back, Eva,” he says, his tone solemn. “I told you that you have my heart forever, and I meant it. If you find that you no longer want the ring, then I want you to throw it into the ocean, because I’d no longer want it, either.”
“Why are you saying that?” He seems worried, and for some reason, it scares me. What is going on with him?
He moves his chair next to mine and places along, lean arm around me, snuggling his face into my neck. “I never want to lose you, Corazón. I want to be with you forever,” he says, kissing the bare skin on my shoulder. “Being away from you last week killed me.”
“Then come with me to DC,” I whisper, kissing his forehead. “You could go to college there and rent a condo close to me. My dad can’t say anything if you’re going to school.” I try to reason with him, to make him see things my way. Over the last week, I’ve daydreamed of a hundred different scenarios, all of which involve Javier moving to DC to be close to me.
“Trust me, Eva, I want that more than anything, but I can’t.” One look in his tormented eyes confirms that he’s telling me the truth. I let out a long sigh.
“I know. A girl can’t help but dream,” I say, trying to smile and failing miserably. The more I think about it, the more I realize that he’s right. It just isn’t the time for us, but acknowledging that fact doesn’t make it any easier to accept. “Guess I’m just selfish.”
“I don’t think so,” he says, biting his lip. “I think you’re a girl in love.”
It’s more of a question than a statement. But how could he question my love for him? Most of our time together is spent with me confessing my affection for him—and showing him in more ways than one.
“I think you’re right,” I murmur, leaning into him. Our lips touch lightly for a moment, and I feel his mouth turn up in a smile beneath mine, which sends a maddening rush of heat through me. I pull him closer by the back of the neck and kiss him with more urgency.
He nuzzles his nose against my hair, kissing my earlobe. “I want you so badly, Corazón,” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear, and I don’t know how much more of this longing I can stand.
“Let’s go,” I plead, looking into his eyes and placing a firm hand on his knee. He’d have to be an idiot not to get the message, and my Javier is no idiot.
“Eva,” he whispers with a wistful smile, shaking his head no.
“I’m serious, Javi.” I try to stare him down, but I don’t feel like the dominant one in the relationship—he has all the power, and he knows it. Why must he insist on torturing me so? Doesn’t he recognize the desire in my eyes? Can’t he feel it in my touch?
“I don’t want you doing anything you’re going to regret a few months from now, Corazón.” He brushes a curl off my cheek and replaces it with a gentle kiss.
“Javi, I would never regret being with you. I want to be with you, more than anything.” How could I prove my devotion to him? Maybe he’s the one worried about having regrets. “I thought you wanted me, too,” I say, and I feel increasingly desperate for him.
“You’ll see that I’m right. It might take awhile, but you will.” He hugs me against his chest, and I inhale his sweet scent. “One day we will be together again, and the time will be right, I promise you, Corazón.”
“Hey, why don’t you two get a freakin’ room? I’m about to puke over here.” We follow the voice to Lane Bradley, a senior at the American School, who is sitting a few tables over with some freshmen girls. Lane is the son of a Rear Admiral, which he never lets anyone forget, but he’s really just a big, dumb redneck from Kentucky. The corners of his mouth are turned up in a smart-ass smirk as he glares at Javier, taunting him into a confrontation. The girls seated with him are snickering and whispering to each other, obviously enjoying the show.
“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Javier growls, but his dark eyes light up like it’s Christmas morning.
“You gonna make me, pretty boy?” Lane scoffs. Javier’s eyes narrow, and a muscle in his neck twitches, but he remains silent. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Lane turns to the girls and adds for good measure, “Who knew Evie Sweeney was such a ’ho? I always thought she was a prude.”
Javier slams his palms flat on the café table and in one swift motion, stands up and pushes the chair out from beneath him with the back of his legs, which causes an unnerving screeching of metal against the tiled floor. I jump about a foot off my chair at the sound, and everyone in the busy café turns with wide eyes to gawk at us. Javier maneuvers around me and toward Lane. I’m almost too shocked to react at first, but as he brushes past me, I grab his right arm and hold on.
“What are you doing?” I hiss at him under my breath.
“I’m going to teach that little punk some manners, Eva. Stay here,” he says with a calmness that’s frightening. He shrugs loose of my grip and strides across the room toward Lane. He’s about to assault an underage American. Every drunken US sailor in Rota with revenge on his mind will be out looking for him tomorrow night. I jump up from my seat and slam my own hands down on the table as hard as I can. Ouch.
“Javier, stop!” I shout. “I’m leaving right now, and you’re going to be sorry if you don’t come with me.” Although my voice was cracking, I’m hoping against hope that I sounded harsh enough that he’ll take my threat seriously.
Javier stops about halfway to the idiotically smirking Lane Bradley—man, is he asking for it—and turns back toward me. His icy-hard expression melts away, and his eyes become soft again as they search my face.
“As you wish, Corazón.” The right corner of his mouth tips up in a half-smile. He saunters back over, keeping his eyes focused on me. He pulls me up to him and gives me a kiss I won’t soon forget, our eyes connecting the entire time. He nods toward the door, “Let’s get out of here.”
I exhale loudly, for more reasons than one. I then realize that everyone in the café is watching us with curious eyes, and it gives me the creeps. I grab my purse, and Javier leads me toward the entrance by my elbow. As we’re about to open the door, a twenty-something woman sidesteps into Javier’s path.
“Perdóname, Señor, but aren’t you—” the stunning blonde with a Russian accent begins, but Javier cuts her off immediately.
“No, you’ve got me confused with someone else,” he says, opening the door and leading me out. I frown at his rudeness.
“How did you know what she was going to ask?”
“I get mistaken all the time for this other guy. Maybe he’s my long-lost twin.” Javier shrugs.
“Weird.” Yeah, there is something odd going on. I’ve never seen him as furious as he was with Lane. His behavior was so out of character for him. He’s typically gentle-natured, not someone whose temper gets the best of him. I am completely baffled and ask, “Are you okay?”
“Sí, Eva. No te preocupas. Please don’t worry about it.” He opens the car door for me. “I’m just on edge about you leaving, as are you.”
I completely understand what he means, so I guess I can understand why he’s acting the way he is.
“Do you want to go back to my condo?”
“Really? You
have to ask?” I laugh, and Javier shrugs, amused.
CHAPTER 3
The three weeks I had left to spend in Spain pass by quickly enough, until I find that it is my final day in Rota. Javier filled those last weeks with memorable trips to places I had yet to visit: touring La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, shopping the open-air markets of Alhambra, lying on the beach during the day, and dancing in the discothèques at night on the Balearic Islands—Ibiza being my favorite. He has one more trip planned for us tonight, a jaunt down the Costa del Sol to Marbella—a beautiful seaside resort town dotted with white-washed buildings lined in fragrant wisteria. Marbella is the kind of town where celebrities and royalty idle their days away, lazing on the beach or partying on their yachts.
My father did not object when I announced that Javier and I would be taking these trips, most of which required airplanes and overnight stays. Maybe Dad thought I would run away if he didn’t allow me to go, and he was just keeping his fingers crossed until we could finally leave for DC. When I informed him of our plans, his only reply was a stern, “Just be careful, Evie. And smart.” Translation? Don’t get knocked up. Little does he know that is not even within the realm of possibility for me, as Javier seems bent on keeping me a virgin—for now, anyway.
Whatever Javier has planned for us tonight, he wants to surprise me. He only suggested that I bring a nice dress to wear, and of course something for the beach. I’m excited about spending the night with him again, but also apprehensive. I don’t know how I’m going to handle being alone with him one last time. Will I keep my composure, or end up a blubbering mess? The idea of losing Javier, either to distance or another girl’s convenient arms, is weighing heavily on me. He has what seems to be a million different reasons for us not to consummate our relationship, and I have only one for why we should: I love him—simple as that.
When you love someone as much as I love Javier, you want to be with him—no, a part of him—in every possible way. Kissing those soft, inviting lips is never enough to quell that hunger. If we could meld into one being, I think that would be a start. And although I don’t want to admit it to myself, I know that some wretchedly insecure part of my subconscious believes that by having sex with Javier, I can make him fall madly in love with me. I would bewitch him, so that he can’t possibly live a day without me. And if he can’t live without me, then perhaps my fantasy of him moving to DC will become reality. It’s a long shot, but it’s all I have.
So, as I pack the pink-and-white designer suitcase Javier bought me to bring on our trips, I take three condoms from my jeans’ front pocket and hastily shove them into the underwear compartment inside the zippered top flap before one of the twins can walk in and catch me. Last week, after I told Coralea about my plan to seduce Javier, she brought me the condoms, which she had stolen out of her parent’s stash. Apparently, Cora’s parents are hell-bent on not having any more children—raising her had killed that desire for them—and they always have plenty of protection to ensure it never happens again. They stay the course, even though having the contraceptives goes against their Roman Catholic beliefs. They don’t bother hiding the paraphernalia from Cora, which I find incredibly odd for Catholic parents. Well, for any parents, actually.
“These won’t be missed, trust me,” Cora said, handing them over to me. “It’s like my parents have their own adult bookstore in their bathroom. Gross!”
“What do you mean, trust you? You’ve taken them before?” I was a little perplexed by her statement, mainly because I know Cora’s a virgin—and proud of it. What use would she have with condoms?
“Yeah. I took some and practiced putting them on a banana.”
“What?” I must’ve looked at her like she was crazy, because her lovely mocha skin turned crimson in a hot second.
“Well, I want to be prepared if it ever happens.” She shrugged, giving me a face that said: drop it.
What can I say? I took them and made Cora promise not to breathe a word of it to anyone. After all, I want to seduce him, not end up pregnant. Oh, what a nightmare that would be. Thank goodness Cora had enough foresight to steal them for me, because I, evidently, am completely clueless.
Javier arrives at my front door promptly at nine o’clock in the morning. Dad has already left for the base, so I don’t have to worry about him drilling Javier for the details of our trip. In fact, that’s how I’d worked out all of our trips: Javi arriving after Dad goes to work. It’s just better for me that way. I couldn’t risk my dad seeing my face when Javi appears at the door bearing fresh-cut wild flowers and a mischievous grin. If Dad could’ve seen me, he’d know the truth: that I’m completely and undeniably in love with Javier. If he had witnessed my desperation and longing, then I’m certain he would’ve never allowed me to go anywhere unaccompanied with Javier, let alone on an overnight trip. A girl who is that possessed with her love would be willing to steal the moon from the sky, at the very least, to make him happy. Giving herself over to him wouldn’t cause so much as a second’s hesitation. I know that feeling of mad devotion. I know it all too well, thanks to Javier.
Since our last trip is to Marbella on the Costa del Sol, we decide to travel the hour-and-a-half by car. Javier has his Uncle Rey’s Mercedes Benz on loan for the special occasion. He looks absolutely amazing today. His super-short haircut has grown out over the last three weeks into the familiar sleek style—longer on top, with straight, black wisps of hair grazing his forehead. He’s abandoned his usual uniform of jeans, t-shirt, black leather jacket, and Doc Martens motorcycle boots in favor of a white, gauzy-cotton, button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, khaki pants, and tan Sperry’s. The look is casually preppy, but somehow it fits him, and he seems quite at ease. He’s propped in the doorway in front of me, his right elbow resting on the doorframe, hand on his head, a playful grin stretching from ear to ear. He extends a bunch of flowers—wild sweet peas, lilacs, and daises—out to me with his left hand. I move to him and stand up on my toes to plant a kiss on his smiling lips. He wraps his left arm, and the flowers, around my back, drawing me closer.
“Hey, handsome, where’s Javier?” I joke, looking over his shoulder.
“You like?” he asks, spreading out his arms and biting his bottom lip in that teasing way that drives me wild. A few of the sweet peas, my favorite flower, break at the stems and fall to the floor.
“Give me those,” I bark, snatching the flowers out of his hand before he can ruin them all.
“Those are for Winifred,” he replies in a serious tone.
“Of course they are,” I deadpan, sticking my tongue out at him.
“Don’t tease,” he says with a mischievous grin, and I shoot him a look.
“Don’t you talk to me about teasing, mister,” I say, as I arrange the flowers in an empty vase on a nearby table.
“Okay, sorry,” he says, flipping his palms up defensively.
“Are we going now, or are you going to stand there aggravating me all day?” I ask with a severe scowl, and then kiss him playfully to assure him I’m joking.
“Vamos, Corazón. I’ve got big plans for us tonight. You’re going to love it.” He grabs my suitcase with one hand, my elbow with the other, and leads me out the door. “Don’t even try to pry it out of me. It’s a secret, and I’m really good at keeping secrets.”
“Oh, boo!” I say laughing, but inside I’m dying. I want to make the next twenty-four hours stretch into forever. But I know my flight time, tomorrow at noon, will come too soon, and I’ll effectively be destroyed. I’m resigned to the fact that once that plane takes off from the airport, my entire world will come crashing down around me. I just hope I can hold it together in front of my family, especially my father. The last thing I want is for him to realize how serious I am about Javier, because if he knew, he would do everything in his power to keep us apart—of that much, I’m certain.
My dad’s plans for me definitely do not involve a serious relationship. He wants me to focus on school and college—a
nd if I were to work hard enough, I could have a future in medicine. Little does he know that all I want is to be with Javier. All I need is Javier. So I must keep cool. I can’t give Dad ammunition to keep us apart. I want Javier to be able to visit me in DC. And then once I graduate from high school, we will be together forever. Nothing can or will ever come between us again.
We take our time on the drive, stopping to get pictures together along the breathtaking Southern Spanish coastline. It is a place known for its gloriously temperate Mediterranean weather and ancient white-washed bucolic towns rising up like jagged cliffs above the shore. I don’t know if it’s just because of Cora planting the seed in my mind, but I’m more acutely aware of how women react to Javier during the trip. Their faces light up and their body language becomes more sensual—and provocative—in his presence. I’ve never known jealousy before, but I guess this is what it feels like. I don’t like it one bit.
I try to ignore the knot in my stomach as a particularly beautiful Spanish girl offers to take our picture on a rocky beach near a small café stop. I try to ignore how she playfully brushes Javier’s arm when she hands his camera back to him. She gives me a perfunctory smile as we walk off, but she then whispers something to her equally gorgeous friend, and they both start laughing. Guess it’s something I’m just going to have to get used to while dating such a handsome man—all the female haters.
We arrive at the Marbella city limits at noon. Javier drives the Benz convertible down a narrow road that follows along the shoreline for what seems like forever, finally coming to a stop in the parking lot of a marina.
“What is this place?” I ask, looking around and taking in the panoramic vistas of the Mediterranean Sea, which is a color of blue so deep and mesmerizing that I’m almost positive it doesn’t exist anywhere else in the natural world. The intense, high-noon sun sends brilliant, rhythmic flashes of dancing white light across the water’s surface, and I’m momentarily entranced by the ethereal beauty of it.
The Saints of the Cross Page 4
