Well, I wanted him. At least, I wanted to sleep with him, but I wasn’t sure that it was a good idea.
“I don’t know what I want,” I told her instead. That was the truth, too.
“Well, maybe tonight you can start to figure it out,” she had told me knowingly.
I was smiling as I got on the metro train, thinking back on that conversation with my sister. Sometimes my sisters helped me see things much more clearly than I saw them myself. However, after talking with Ariel, and trying to think through things logically, I felt more confused than before. Did Tarek like me? I mean, did he want to date me? If so, why didn’t he ask me out on a real date? Did he think, as Ariel suggested, that I wouldn’t go on a date with him? Was he afraid that I would reject him? He couldn’t think that I didn’t like him. I was spending more time with him than with anyone else lately.
Maybe he thought I only liked him as a friend. Wait. Why did I care whether or not he asked me out on a date? Indeed, what would I have done if he had said that tonight was a date?
My answer to myself surprised me. I would have said the same thing. “OK, I’d like that.”
But would I have said yes to have a booty call or because I wanted to go out on a date with him?
I stopped myself. I didn’t need to go out on a date with a guy in order to sleep with him. I would just sleep with him.
So did I want this to be a date? Yes, I told myself, because then I would have an excuse to touch his arm and whisper in his ear and maybe hold his hand.
I surprised myself with that answer. I wanted this to be a date. I did. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. I liked him. Holy shit. My palms started to get a little sweaty.
Wait a second, I stopped myself. Did I really like him or was this merely lust? When was the last time I really liked someone? What did that feel like? I couldn’t remember. Maybe I would ask Lara. Wait, if I had to ask someone whether I liked Tarek, then that meant I didn’t really like him, right? Right?!
I started to organize my thoughts to stay grounded in reality. First and foremost, I was a rational actor. And this wasn’t a ‘date.’ So thinking about whether I liked him or not was a waste of time at this point. OK, so I would make sure that I didn’t act like this was a date. How could I act like this was not a date?
Rule Number One, no arm-touching. Rule Number Two, no whispering in his ear. Rule Number Three, no hand-holding.
Then my mother’s voice came back to me from the other day. “So what did you do, hold hands?”
Oh my God, I was going insane. I stifled a laugh on the metro.
From my seat I caught a couple of Latin men eyeing me. I looked away without smiling.
The truth was, I looked hot tonight. I didn’t think I was the most attractive woman in the world, but there were times when I surprised even myself. Tonight was one of those times, at least, in my mind.
I had given a lot of thought to what I would wear that night. I wanted to be able to dance comfortably but I also wanted to look feminine. In the end, I had put on form-fitting black pants with a low waist and a sleeveless burgundy top with lace at the bust. The top was comfortable. Over that I wore a black blazer with a bit of black lace at the cuffs. It looked a bit Goth and I liked that. I wore black pumps with a low heel. I was a decent dancer but I was clumsy enough that if I wore heels that were too high, I might fall.
After I had had my hair done, I had washed it again at home and had blowdried it straight. I had also put on a little bit of black eyeliner and smudged in some shimmery purple eye shadow, nothing too outlandish. I finished off the look with mascara and clear lip gloss.
I had a small purse with me, the kind that had a long strap and that I could wear around my shoulder. As the train left the station I took out my phone and sent a message to Tarek.
On my way, leaving Franconia now.
And a couple of minutes later, the response:
OK, when you get off the train, wait at the platform. I’ll meet you there. See you soon.
I suddenly realized that I was nervous. What was going to happen tonight? I couldn’t deny the possibility that I would kiss Tarek tonight. I also couldn’t deny the possibility that I would sleep with him tonight.
Wait, I stopped. He had said this wasn’t a date. So no kiss for him. And I had already laid the ground rules, remember, Isabel?
Wait again. I wanted to kiss him. Didn’t I always do what I wanted?
OK, so I won’t sleep with him tonight. That’s final and nonnegotiable. My other three rules were also still in force.
The kissing was still on the table, though, I decided. I would see how it went. I rationalized that maybe he wanted this to be a date, too. If that were the case, and if the moment seemed right, a kiss would be appropriate.
I was basically rationalizing my way to what I wanted.
Oh my God. My stomach was in knots.
I exited the train at Pentagon City. There were a ton of people, many with shopping bags. The Fashion Center at Pentagon City was a popular shopping destination in the area. It was metro-accessible; indeed, you could walk straight from the underground metro into the mall without stepping outside.
I got off the train and walked past the shoppers and other people going out for the evening. It was already dark outside but you wouldn’t know it here underground.
I decided to get out of the crowd and wait, a little apart, instead of looking for Tarek. I figured once the crowd cleared a little, I would see him. I hung back against the cement wall at the back of the platform, and took out my phone to have something to do. Lara had emailed me.
Have fun tonight!
I emailed her back.
At the metro now. Will let you know how it goes.
As I hit send, I heard, “Hi, Isabel.”
I looked up. There he was, looking so hot I wanted to jump him right there. He wore a white button-down shirt with a black blazer, and dark jeans. His hair was, as usual, carefully arranged in dark curls that framed his face.
As I looked up, I noticed that he had been smiling. But as I faced him, his face turned and he had kind of a strange expression.
Oh my God, what?!
“What?” I asked him. Did my makeup smear? Did I have something in my teeth?
“Nothing,” he said, regaining his composure a little.
“Tarek, what? Tell me!”
“You look—amazing.” He exhaled. “What did you do to your hair? It wasn’t like that this morning, was it?” His expression told me that he was thinking that he would have noticed it if it had been like that.
“I went to the salon, I had highlights done.” I put my phone away.
“Oh.”
Then he looked at me from my head down to my feet.
“You look great,” he told me, looking at my face this time.
For not being a date, it seemed that this was beginning like one.
“So do you,” I smiled. “Where are we going?”
He seemed startled out of his thoughts. “Um—we have a reservation at nine.” He told me the name of the place.
“Reservations?” I asked. “Am I dressed OK?”
“Of course.”
“But this is a sleeveless top.” I opened my blazer at my shoulder. “Am I too casual?”
“No, you’re fine.”
“Are you sure?
“Yes,” he smiled.
“OK.”
We walked to another platform to take another train.
I sensed a little bit of nervous tension. But this isn’t a date, right?
“I talked to my sister Ariel today,” I told Tarek, just to say something.
“How’s she doing?” he asked me.
“She’s doing well, very busy at work. She and her boyfriend work for different consulting firms.”
“I can imagine how that is in New York.” Then, “How long has she known her boyfriend?”
“They met in business school. I think they’ve known each other about three years.”
; “How long have they been dating?
“About two years. They’ve been living together for a few months.” I paused. “She’s very happy.” I guess everyone will be happy except for me.
“So they knew each other for about a year before they got together?”
“Yes,” I smiled. Our train would arrive in a few minutes. “It’s kind of a funny story.”
Tarek smiled too. “Tell me.”
I continued. “So her boyfriend, Javier, is the son of a Mexican diplomat who works at the Mexican consulate in New York. He’s a total gentleman, and also a little shy. Apparently, he was like in love with my sister from the moment he met her, or so he says.” As I spoke, I stepped in closer to him and lightly touched his arm for emphasis. That was a Latin thing. For the life of me, I could not talk without using my hands.
There went Rule Number One. Hadn’t I said that I wouldn’t touch his arm because this wasn’t a date? Oh well, that didn’t mean anything.
I went on. “But he was apparently too shy to say anything to her. So they hung out with friends for almost a year, and she liked him the entire time, but she didn’t think he was interested in her. Then near the end of the school year, their first year, they all went out dancing with their friends, and he had a couple of drinks and she had a couple of drinks, and then she told him how crazy she was about him.”
“And the way he tells it, he was all like, ‘I’m the luckiest man alive,’ blah, blah, blah.”
“That’s romantic,” Tarek said, smiling.
“Even I have to admit that it’s kind of romantic,” I told him.
“You’re not a romantic?” Tarek tilted his head a little as he asked the question.
“No, not really.” It was only partly true. “I think that most romance is totally lame.” That was true.
“I thought Latin women liked romance.”
“What do you know, or think you know, about Latin women?” I smiled coyly.
He smiled back but didn’t say anything. I was tempted to not say anything and see which one of us spoke first. But, as usual, I couldn’t stand the silence with him staring at me.
“Well—,” I was trying to think of a way to explain it without embarrassing myself. I looked around and leaned in a little more closely. What the hell? I would tell him what I really thought. “I think sex between two people who love each other should be romantic, and by that I mean hot, like having that connection with that person in that moment is literally the best thing in the world. And—” I continued to talk without thinking. “Kissing should be romantic, like you’re always kissing someone for the first time.”
I noticed that his eyes were charged, almost on fire, in fact. So I continued on a more mundane topic. “But a guy buying me flowers or making a book for me about the story of how we got together, that’s totally lame.”
“Really?” Tarek seemed a little surprised.
“Dude, what the hell did flowers ever do for anyone? And if a guy has the time to make a book or a photo album for me, then he’s got time to cook me dinner, clean the house and listen to me complain about my crappy day.”
Tarek started to chuckle and it turned into a laugh. In fact, I didn’t think I had ever seen him laugh so hard. “So you—” he was trying to stop laughing. A couple of people turned to look at us. “You prefer a man to cook and clean for you?”
Yes, and take the initiative in bed once in a while. But I didn’t say that.
“Damn straight,” I said. “Because if he does things for me, that shows that he cares about me. He tries to make my life easier because he cares about me.” What I wanted was a partner, not a guy who sat around and brought me flowers and waited for me to get into bed with him. I mean, if I wanted to be with someone now, I would want a partner. Not that I wanted to be with anyone right now. “And I would do the same for him, because I care about him.”
“Does buying you dinner count?” he asked suddenly.
“Yes, of course, that counts.” Oh, wait. Was he talking about tonight?
Tarek smiled at me knowingly and I looked away. I was starting to blush again.
Thank God our train arrived then, and we got on.
It was crowded with people going out and tourists going back to their hotels late. We were standing and both holding on to the same pole. It was noisy and we had to lean in close to hear each other.
“So how do you like DC so far?” I asked Tarek, changing the subject.
“I like it,” he nodded.
“I imagine it’s not as glamorous as Miami,” I told him.
“Have you been to Miami?”
“No, but I’d love to go.”
“I think you’d like it.” Then he added, “It can be a bit over the top, but it’s fun. If you like to go dancing, you would like it.” He paused. Then he asked, “So what do you do for fun around here?”
“Umm—” I considered it, “people usually go out drinking. A lot of people do the free concerts on Fridays at the sculpture garden at the National Gallery of Art. But I’m not sure if they only have them in the summer. Some people may go to exhibits at the galleries. There are a lot of good restaurants. People go out to dinner a lot.”
Tarek was chuckling.
“What?” I asked him. “What did I say?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Jesus, what did you mean then!?”
“I meant, what do you, Isabel, do for fun?” He touched my arm as he said my name.
Our train had stopped in the tunnel and the conductor announced that we would be holding there for a few moments. That could be anywhere from five seconds to twenty minutes.
“Oh,” I was surprised. What did I do for fun? “Law school,” I told him.
“Come on. You must do other things.”
I sighed, then looked at him. “Occasionally, go out dancing, like tonight, um—go out to dinner with my sister and her husband when we can.” I thought some more. I didn’t know what he would think about the thing that I did most often “for fun,” other than hook up.
“That’s it?” he asked me.
“Actually,” I went on, “you wouldn’t believe what I do most often for fun.”
“What?” By the semi-shocked expression on his face, I could tell that he assumed it was sex-related.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” I told him sardonically.
“It wasn’t in the gutter!” he protested.
“Whatever,” I said, looking away for a moment.
“Tell me,” he said.
“Tell you what?”
He sighed. He knew I was stalling. “What you do most often for fun.”
I leaned in close, and broke my second rule for the night. I whispered in his ear, “Go to the shooting range.” I leaned back.
His eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Yes.” Then I leaned toward him again. “You thought my NRA sticker was all talk?”
When I leaned back he was looking at me intently, and there was that intrigued look in his eyes again.
The train started moving again.
“Is that a dealbreaker for you?” I asked him. The question was a challenge.
“No,” he told me. “Au contraire.”
Then he was looking past me, past my shoulder. His expression didn’t really change but he was fixated on something.
I turned my head and looked with him right into Miguel’s face. He was standing right next to me.
Holy shit. This could get interesting. Of all the places this guy could be right now, he’s here.
“Isabel, I thought that was you,” Miguel said. He was dressed to the nines, with a sportcoat. I could smell a ton of aftershave on him.
“Hey,” I managed to say.
“Is this your boyfriend?” Miguel looked from me to Tarek.
I decided to ignore the question. I looked at Tarek. “This is Miguel. He and I work for the same company,” I told him.
Tarek introduced himself and shook Miguel’s hand.
“Where are you from?” Miguel asked him curiously.
“Miami,” Tarek answered. I smiled.
“Where are you two going?” Miguel asked, still looking at Tarek.
“To dinner,” I answered.
“Where?” Miguel continued. God, he was nosy.
“We don’t know yet,” I answered quickly. Tarek stole a look at me.
I had had enough of this. “Where are you going?” I asked Miguel. Because I will avoid that place.
“I’m meeting friends.” He told me the name of the bar. “You guys should stop by after dinner. We’ll probably still be there.”
“Maybe,” I lied.
Miguel left at the next stop, thank goodness.
“You do realize,” Tarek said carefully, leaning toward me, “that he thinks I’m your boyfriend now because you didn’t answer the question.”
“I’m not answering his damn questions,” I said. “And I don’t care what he thinks.” Then something occurred to me. “Oh my gosh, Tarek, I’m sorry if you care about that. I thought he was joking when he asked that.” I really didn’t think he had been joking, but wanted to offer an excuse as to why I hadn’t disputed Miguel’s assumption.
Tarek smiled. “Oh, I don’t mind, Isabel.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He looked amused. Then his expression changed and became more serious. “You don’t like him.” It wasn’t a question.
“He’s all right; he’s always so inquisitive. And the more I answer his questions, the more questions he asks. It’s—annoying.” I had almost said fucking annoying but stopped myself. “And he keeps asking me to go out with him and his friends, and I always say no, and he keeps on asking.”
“Well, maybe he’ll stop now that he thinks you have a boyfriend.”
I smiled. “I think I may owe you one.”
“Oh, that’s OK.” Tarek smiled too. “I can think of worse things for people to think about me.”
“Well, I can’t.” We both laughed then.
We exited the train at Gallery Place. There was a crush of people getting on and off. Tarek protectively touched the small of my back as we left together.
Raven's Flight Page 25
