I take a guess. “Like your boyfriend.”
She nods. “I don’t consider him my boyfriend.” Her eyes draw mine. “I’m not in love with him. At all. But he’s a friend, and I respect him. I told him I don’t want to marry him. It’s driving me crazy that he’s not responding to my messages.”
The jealous beast roars within my heart, wanting to rip out through my chest. I don’t want her to have ties to anyone else. Thank God she’s taken off that ring, finally. But we do need to get this all straightened out. And I need to tell Sonia, yet again, to quit it. She keeps hanging around, and I don’t want her to think she has any chance.
Because when I look into Kim’s eyes, I’m a goner. I’ll do anything to keep her.
I only hope she feels the same.
While we sit in the middle of class, I surreptitiously rip a piece of paper in half and scribble a note, passing it to Kim under the desk.
* * *
Do you like me?
Yes
No
* * *
She stifles a smile with her hand and straightens her face, not giving me a clue. Even worse, she pretends to think about it, tipping her head to the side and tapping her pen to her tongue. After way too long, she hunches down to write.
But she’s not just writing a simple “x.” Why is she writing so much? Does this require such a long explanation? It’s just a yes or no question!
Folding it up, her eyes on the professor at the front of the room, she passes it back to me under the desk.
* * *
Do you like me?
Yes X!!!
No
* * *
Want to make out after class?
Yes
No
* * *
Oh, now it’s on. I scribble a note back to her and add a question, again passing it under the desk. When she opens it up, she gulps, then checks the box and passes it back.
* * *
Do you like me?
Yes X!!!
No
* * *
Want to make out after class?
Yes xxx
No
* * *
Will you wear handcuffs?
Yes
No X (but you can use those ribbons)
* * *
She’s grinning down at her desk. The professor calls on me, and I have no idea what he asked.
Joder.
“What’s your next tattoo going to be?”
The four of us, Trent, Dani, Kim, and me, are sprawled at a table at Bar Marueco after class, enjoying the late afternoon. In her short time here, Kim’s come a long way—from not knowing what tapas were to, this time, when I asked her what she wanted, ending up ordering plates for the whole table on her own. Taking care of getting her own tinto de verano—wine with lemon-lime soda—makes her even sexier than before because she’s being assertive and asking for what she wants. Especially when she wants to be tied up with ribbons. Fuck, that’s a fantastic mental image.
And it might come true. I take a sip of my Alhambra lager.
Dani answers Kim’s question. “I’m not totally sure what design I want next. Trent and I were talking about getting something to honor my brother who passed away. I was actually thinking a bowl of cereal and a spoon. No one would understand why I had cereal tattooed on my side, but tattoos aren’t meant for anyone else to understand but the person who gets it. They don’t require explanation.”
“Degan was mad about cereal since he was a kid,” Trent says. “So it makes sense. I want to get a new tat also, but I don’t know what.” He pulls up his T-shirt sleeve, and both Kim and Dani react to his biceps with an intake of breath. Bastard. He’s so oblivious. “Something to honor Degan as well. Maybe his dog tags. And something for Dani.”
Reaching for a ring of fried calamari, dredging it in brava sauce, and popping it in her mouth, Kim smiles. “I love that. I was thinking about getting a tattoo, but I don’t know what.”
Trent nods and drinks his San Miguel beer. “Well, what do you like?”
“Before I came here, I wouldn’t have been able to answer that. Or I would have asked for everyone else’s opinion first. Now? I’m not totally sure, but I know I’ve always thought dragonflies were really pretty.”
I’m picturing a dragonfly tattoo on Kim. It would look muy linda on her. There’s a pen on a table, and I start drawing on a napkin.
Dani claps with delight. “Oh, I love dragonflies. They’re the symbol of transformation.”
Kim sets down her tinto de verano. “Really?”
“Yeah! In about every country—or so I’ve heard—they symbolize change.”
“Wow! That’s so appropriate for my life right now.”
“Here. I’ll show you.” Dani pulls out her phone, does a quick search, and reads, “The dragonfly is the symbol of clarity, emotional and mental maturity, transformation, self-realization, illumination, adaptability, and wisdom.”
“It’s so perfect,” Kim whispers. “I love it!” She sees what I’ve drawn. “That’s it!” She takes the napkin and slips it in her bag.
I nod in agreement, but this is Kim’s decision to make. Almost unconsciously, I begin tracing my drawing of a dragonfly on the back of her hand. It is perfect.
“Where are you two traveling next,” I ask Trent. Dani’s quite the globetrotter, and I always want to hear about where they go.
“Not sure. Dani’s racked up so many frequent flier miles, we can pretty much go anywhere at any time. But we’re pretty happy here.”
“Yeah.” Dani nods. “I like knowing I can leave at a moment’s notice, but I don’t need to now.” She and Trent exchange a look. “If you two ever want to escape, let me know. I can have all of us flying for free.”
“Thanks,” I say, and my mind starts drifting. Taking Kim to the United States. Going with her to London. Being with her always.
“It feels like I’m traveling just being here,” Kim says. I smile, forgetting this is all still new to her. “I know there’s so much more. I wonder if there’s a job I can do where I get paid to travel.”
“There’s a ton. Flight attendant, for starters.” Trent grins.
“Yeah, but I'd like to stay put for a while. Like the way those stores do pop-ups for a few weeks or months. But I don’t know what I’d sell.”
Dani gestures for the waiter to bring her another sangria. “What do you like to do?”
“Cook.”
“So be a pop-up chef. Or run a food truck.”
“I need to learn a lot more before I do that.” Kim’s waving her arms as if she’s pushing it away.
I think it’s perfect for her.
Sixteen
Kim - Lessons
I’m pounding almonds in the kitchen to make almendra cookies. Mari Carmen bustles about preparing chorizo for dinner, while Tavo’s aunt Valeria deveins shrimp. Tavo and his brothers kick a soccer ball outside. His mom is nowhere to be seen, although I have my suspicions she’s with that mystery man, since I saw him another time in the hall when I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom.
Tavo snuck into my room once or twice, but there are too many people living in the main house, so we go to his place. I have no idea how many times his mom’s late night visitor has come.
The October air has a chill in it. A sharpness. One that’s softened when I’m with Tavo and warmed by cooking. I’m loving all the instruction I’m receiving in Spanish cuisine.
As Mari Carmen slices the sausage, she talks about her counseling with the priest before she and Jorge get married. Since she’s speaking in Spanish, I don’t understand all of it, but I understand more than I did a month ago. I know she’s saying that the priest made her talk out her issues with Jorge.
And as she talks about Jorge, I think about Shane. It’s been two weeks since we’ve communicated, and it feels so … unresolved. I’ve stopped checking my laptop days ago, because nothing comes and I’m tired of waiting for him.
I hope
we can still be friends. That said, I’m sure he’s not the love of my life.
Is Tavo?
Is this trip just a wild-oat-sowing time of breaking free? Or is he the all-encompassing love of my life?
My conscious mind tells me that I’m too young to know, this is first love, and first love doesn’t last. That my postpubescent hormones are acting up, and I’ve merely latched onto the first attractive person I found when I had the barest hint of freedom.
My subconscious tells me that Tavo and I are bonded like nothing I’ve ever felt before. We’ve created something bigger than the two of us combined, and it can’t be split apart without serious damage. I’m in a dreamlike state of shock that I’m allowed to touch him. That he really wants me the way I want him. The way we fit together so tightly. The way we explore each other.
But there are consequences. I haven’t told my parents anything, since Shane needs to know first. But he won’t respond, so they still think I’m coming home to a wedding, which makes me want to hurl.
I have no one else to talk to. Maggie’s been out of cell phone service on a backpacking trip, so I have to wait until she gets back to civilization.
So right now, I just think of how much I enjoy the scratchy feel of Tavo’s face on my cheek while he kisses and cuddles me. Count how many times he makes goosebumps rise on my arm. Bask in the feeling that I’m safe and secure with him, always.
I look at the almond cookie recipe. It’s in Spanish, but I’m getting better at working with recipes. At least I know the words for flour, sugar, and eggs. Using the metric measuring cup, I make the dough. I shape the cookies, place them on a tray, and slide them in the oven. Then I go over and help Valeria with the shrimp.
Thank God Sonia’s not here. Tavo’s mom still invites her for dinner every Sunday. I can’t really tell what’s going on with her. She barely says a word to Tavo and mostly talks to Guillermo. Somehow, though, her ignoring Tavo is worse than her coming on to him. I just don’t trust her. I don’t know why. She gives me a bad feeling. If I were the violent type, I’d come up with a few choice fantasies for getting her out of here, because whenever she’s around, Tavo’s jumpier.
The timer goes off for the cookies. I pull the tray out of the oven and call the boys. “¡Tavo! ¡Antonio! ¡Guillermo! ¿Quiereis café y galletas?”
Whenever I talk in Spanish, I get a warm feeling of pride in my chest. More than a month here, and I’ve learned so much.
I wish I were staying longer.
The boys—really, men—run in, panting hard from playing soccer.
Antonio sniffs at the kitchen. “¿Qué tienes para nosotros? Huele muy bien.”
Gesturing at the cookies cooling on the rack with the rich scent filling the air, I say, “Galletas de almendra. Son calientes.”
They all wash their hands, grab glasses of water, and sit at the table. I gaze at them, these handsome young Spanish men. They’re pretty freaking adorable. Guillermo with his new haircut. Antonio’s hair is longer, too. And Tavo?
Happy sigh.
Placing a plate of warm cookies in the middle of the table, I hand them each napkins and pour cups of coffee. Antonio and Guillermo scarf down the cookies like they’ve never eaten a single thing ever in their lives. Mari Carmen picks up one carefully and takes a delicate bite.
“Kim, ¡Es delicioso!”
I don’t really care if it’s Spanish overstatement or not. I’m going to let in the compliment. “Gracias,” I say, and take one for myself.
Tavo polishes off three, and then his coffee-colored eyes lock on mine.
It’s really difficult being in the same room with him and his family because he always turns me on wildly, and I have to hide it. Thankfully, I have an easier time than him.
We spend way too much time stealing kisses and sneaking glances and passing notes. I wish it were different, but I’m accepting it for now.
“¿Cómo qué tal hablando el español ahora, Kim?” Guillermo asks. “Como pasa un mes, ¿es más fácil hoy? ¿Entiendes más? Me pareces que te has mejorada.”
“Un poco.” I pause. “No. Todavía es dificíl hablar, pero entiendo mucho más que antes.”
And I have gotten better at Spanish. Between classes and practicing with Tavo and just being steeped in the atmosphere, I’ve learned more in the weeks here than I did in all four years of Spanish class.
When he’s finished, Tavo rises and brushes off his hands. “These were really wonderful,” he says. I know he wants to say more, but he glances around and doesn’t. “Guillermo, go bring cookies to our grandparents.”
“De acuerdo.” Guillermo and Antonio each kiss my cheek and take off with the plate of cookies.
I’m pretty sure that’s the last I’ll ever see of it.
“I’m so glad they liked my baking!”
Tavo gives me his shy smile. “You have a gift, Kim.”
“And that’s one of the things you wanted to learn here,” says Mari Carmen.
“Yes! Exactly!”
Mari Carmen takes the dishes off the table and sets them in the sink. “What else did you want to learn?”
“Besides everything and anything?” I joke.
“The guitar,” Tavo says. “It’s time for you to learn.”
I clap my hands. “Yay!” Wiping off my hands and removing my apron, I walk with him back to his casita. I resist the urge to hold Tavo’s hand. I know he wants to hold mine, too. But we don’t need any questions since as far as everyone else knows, I’m engaged and he’s promised.
When we get to his place, he goes inside, picks up his guitar, and we sit outside on the stoop. He pauses for a moment, then hands me the guitar. “First you need to learn how to hold it.”
I can tell this means something to him. Gingerly, I arrange the guitar so my arm drapes over it on the one side, and I hold the neck with my other hand.
“Muy bien.”
My hands tighten around it while he sits next to me and arranges my fingers on the strings. My hands are all wrong. The first time I strum, a dog howls in the distance, and not because it’s happy.
He arranges my fingers yet again, and this time it sounds … well, I can’t say it sounds good, but it’s less bad.
“This is harder than it looks. You make it look easy.”
His easy smile reassures me. “I have years of practice. Let’s try it again.”
I press my fingers hard on the strings and strum again. It sounds like a bad banjo. He and I look at each other and laugh. “Is it supposed to sound like that?”
Tavo stands and rearranges himself sitting behind me, his legs on either side, and putting his hands over mine. “Let’s try it this way.” Moving my fingers, he gently presses his skilled ones over mine, shaping them into the chord. “Now,” he murmurs, and sucks on my neck.
I gasp, bending my head back toward the sky, because it feels so good, and bring my other hand down the strings, making a semi-decent sound. “That’s better, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
I keep playing the same chord, getting excited that it sounds right. “Pretty soon, I’ll be playing along with you,” I say. “We’ll have to get me my own guitar.”
He traces his finger along my jaw. “I’d love that.”
We sit, and I pick at the guitar for a long time, so pleased with the one chord and two notes I learn, and loving the way he feels around me. I can’t play a song, but at least I didn’t break any glass with the off-notes. The days are getting shorter, and the sun goes down earlier.
“It’s going to be dark soon,” I say, leaning back into him. “We should go inside.”
“Sometimes I think it’s better in the dark.” His voice is distant, as if he's talking to himself.
I turn around. “Yes, it is.” A sexy thrill runs through my body.
Looking to make sure the coast is clear, he kisses me. “I like it when you’re with me, whether it’s in the sun or the shadow. But I’m most interested in those parts of you that you don’t show anyone
else.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that you come alive when I’m inside you. Your body is so beautifully expressive. Your eyes show me your soul. I want to draw you. But I’d never share all these secret parts of you that you never showed anyone. It’s a great gift to me.”
I nod. “Yeah, I shoved those parts in the corner. Didn’t pay any attention to them. Just tried to make the sunny parts of me good enough for everyone else. But I really had to make the dark parts acceptable to me. And to you.”
He takes the guitar from me. “I think that sometimes we get scared our darkness is too much for the other person to handle, so we don’t show it to anyone. But maybe it’s too much for us to handle.”
“You mean, what we’re most scared about in ourselves is what we’re deathly afraid of showing someone else?”
He nods.
“Is there something you’re scared about yourself that you don’t want to share with me?” I blurt out. “Forget I asked that.”
“It’s okay. Yes. There are lots of things I don’t want you to know about.” He gives me an indecent grin. “An example? Some of the things I want to do to you would absolutely ruin you.”
A shiver runs through my body. “Really?”
“Yes.” His lips are on my ear, and he bathes me with his warm breath and tongue. “I want every part of you to know my cock. I want to tell you the filthiest things. I want you to submit to me.”
“Do you want me to try it?” As I say those words, a tingle rises through my stomach. Because this means trusting this man to do whatever he wants to do to me. Sexually.
But there’s nothing sexual that he could do to me that I wouldn’t like. I trust him. Simple.
His finger slips down my neck. “I don’t know how you came to me. Maybe it was a benevolent Dios sending you to me. But you are mine, and we are meant to be together. I swear it.”
Sombra Page 18
