Raven's Flight

by Chrys Cymri - BooksGoSocial Fantasy P

  “It’s OK.”

  A rumba played then. I loved rumba.

  I got even closer to his ear. I was feeling a little giddy at being so close to him. We had never been this close.

  “Tarek, if you can rumba this may be love.” God knows what possessed me to say that.

  He did rumba. Oh God. Then he was chuckling.

  The two of us danced very fluidly.

  Then I was starting to feel like all the cells in my body were awake. Everything seemed to be more intense. My fingertips brushed his shirt and I could feel the warmth from his body and his hand on my back. With my left hand I hesitantly touched one of his curls.

  We didn’t talk for a while. We just danced. Salsa, merengue, rumba, bachata. I didn’t bother asking him if he danced bachata. I figured if he liked to dance and had dated a Dominican girl, then he would know bachata. And he did.

  “Eric was right,” he said at one point.

  “About what?” I asked, curious.

  “This is the happiest I’ve ever seen you,” Tarek said into my ear.

  “It’s because of the music,” I started, “and because in the dark I can be totally anonymous.”

  Hmm, that was kind of deep for a Saturday night out.

  Tarek chuckled and then we didn’t talk again for a while.

  I was enjoying dancing with him, and totally lost track of time. I kind of guessed how much time had passed because the music started to slow down. It must be getting late. Maybe 2 a.m., 3 a.m.? I wasn’t sure.

  Then one of my favorite songs started playing, a slower song that required significant hip action.

  Oh God.

  I hadn’t seen Josh or Eric but then, I hadn’t really been looking for them. I wondered if they could see us. Then I wondered why I cared. Then I decided that I didn’t care.

  This time, when we danced, Tarek held me closer. This particular song was deeply sensual, and I loved that and hated it at the same time, because it made my body respond in ways that I almost couldn’t control. I was starting to get turned on, yes, but aside from that, I wanted to hold him closer to me. I moved as close as I dared, and moved my left hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck, where I could feel his curly hair, so that my left elbow ended up resting on his right shoulder. He responded by drawing me even closer to him, his arm curling around my waist, and suddenly there was no space between us, and I noted the feel of my breasts against his chest when I breathed.

  This is the part that I loved about dancing. He and I were like one unit, moving with the music, and it was easy to move with him. When I danced with Josh, we danced well, but Josh and I really didn’t have much chemistry. We were just good friends. When I danced with Eric, I had an incredible time, and our dance styles meshed really well. He had an energy that was completely unmatched. But as I was dancing with Tarek, there was chemistry. There was so much chemistry that I felt like we were combustible. There was electricity where my right hand touched his left and where I rested my left hand on his neck.

  Then I began to get a bit carried away. I let go of Tarek’s left hand and slid my right hand onto his other shoulder. I hugged him to me, as if we could get any closer.

  Then he put his left hand around my waist.

  Oh my God. If he asked me to go home with him right now, I would.

  Our cheeks were barely touching, and I felt a thrill knowing that if I turned my head a little to the right I could kiss him, right by his ear. I used all my reserves to resist doing that. I didn’t know if he wanted me to kiss him. When you were dancing with someone like this, it was easy to think they wanted you to kiss them. In fact, as I started to remember, this was how Santi and I had gotten together . . . dancing. But it could also just be that—dancing, and nothing else. At that moment, I realized that I hadn’t thought about Santi for a long time. It surprised me.

  Then Tarek started to get a bit carried away. His hands were on my back, at my waist. My shirt wasn’t tucked into my pants, but loose.

  Tarek’s hand was finding its way under my shirt, at my waist and on my back. Now two of his fingers were touching the skin of my back. In response, I leaned into him and touched his cheek with mine. Then I was running my fingers through his curls, at his neck. My breasts felt tender all of a sudden. Oh my God, my nipples are probably hard. Would he notice? Could a guy notice that without seeing them? I wasn’t sure.

  All my senses were on fire all at once. I noticed then how hard his chest was. And I noticed the smell of his aftershave. And I felt how smooth the skin of his face was, right above his goatee.

  I automatically inclined my head a little. The move was so slight that I hoped he probably hadn’t noticed. His goatee was tickling my cheek. I wanted to kiss him, badly.

  It was taking everything I had not to kiss him right then. I still wasn’t sure if he wanted me to. But if he did want it, I had the feeling that it would be incredible between us. I was too scared to try right now. But if he tried to kiss me now, I had no doubt that I would cave. I wouldn’t be able to resist him.

  Then the song ended. That soon? Oh my God, what would I say to him?

  We stopped dancing but didn’t let go of each other. I was afraid to because then I would have to look him in the face.

  But I would have to eventually. I extricated my right hand from his hair and reluctantly slid both my hands from his neck to his shoulders and then down his arms. But I still didn’t look at him.

  He released my waist. At that point I thought of something to say.

  “Do you want to get a drink?” I said into his ear.

  “Sure,” he said. Was he a bit breathless? Maybe it was my imagination. My pulse was racing.

  I took his arm and we walked toward the bar. I didn’t see Josh or Eric. Great. Now I would have to be alone with Tarek. My mind was spinning. What do I do now? Should I pretend that that didn’t just happen?

  When we got to the bar, he asked me what I wanted to drink.

  “Actually,” I paused, “I’m OK.” Then I pointed to my wrist, asking him if he had the time. It was about 2:30 a.m.

  He leaned toward my ear. “If you want—we can leave.”

  We, he had said. Was that code for, do you want to come to my apartment to have sex? I started thinking, which usually led me to overanalyze, which usually led to me driving myself crazy.

  When I hooked up with guys, usually they were more direct than that, and I was more direct with them. I was in way over my head here. I was going to have to figure this out as I went along.

  “Isabel?” Tarek was still at my ear. I needed to say something.

  “Sure,” I told him. “Wait one second.” I looked around for Josh and Eric. I would text them that I had left. They were big boys, and they could take care of themselves.

  Then I turned back to Tarek. “Let’s go. I’ll text them that we left.” I still hadn’t looked at him in the face.

  We left then, me holding onto Tarek’s arm on the way out. It was much more crowded than when we had arrived.

  When we got outside I inhaled a deep breath. The city night air was fresh compared with the stuffiness inside the club.

  “Are you OK?”

  I turned and looked at Tarek finally. “Yeah,” I nodded.

  We started walking away from the club very slowly. I wasn’t sure where we were going. I was still a bit giddy, and was trying to suppress a giggle.

  “I had no idea you could dance like that,” Tarek said. I sneaked a look at him. He was looking at me admiringly.

  I laughed. “What, you thought I only danced tango and paso doble because I’m half-Argentine, half-Spanish?” Then I added, “Besides, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  Tarek stopped and I ended up two steps in front of him. I turned around. He was looking at me. His look was a serious one. “I’d like to get to know you more, though.”

  I stared at him. He seemed surprised that he had said that. Had he said it without thinking? Did he mean it?

  “What d
o you mean?” We were facing each other. As always, he looked amazing, tousled curls and bright eyes.

  “I mean—” he was looking for the right words. He looked lost for a second, but quickly tried to regain his composure. I decided then that he hadn’t intended to say that; the words had just left his mouth. I could tell by how discombobulated he was. So it was the truth, then. “I mean—it means—” he was shaking his head a little now, as if he were trying to clear it and think straight. “It means whatever you want it to mean,” he finally said.

  That was no answer. But I didn’t dwell on it. I was too shocked that he had said it in the first place. “I—,” I suddenly felt the need to be honest. “I’m not sure what I want it to mean.”

  He smiled, but was still unsure. “That’s OK. You don’t have to know right now.”

  Wait, what? Was he telling me that he was interested in me, but that he would wait for me to make up my mind if I wanted to date him or not? Or was he only interested in me for a ‘short-term benefit,’ I thought glibly, like Ariel had mentioned? Or did he mean that I had time to decide if we could be friends? But weren’t we friends? Hadn’t I told him the first day we studied together that it would be just that—studying and nothing more? Was he intent on changing my mind? He seemed so serious. I couldn’t help but think that he had played another card.

  “OK,” I said, a little relieved but still confused. “So I don’t have to decide now.”

  “No.” He shook his head, but there was longing in his eyes.

  “OK,” I said again.

  We continued walking. I still wasn’t sure what had just happened.

  It was colder than I had anticipated. My light jacket wasn’t doing the job. I shivered, this time from the cold and not because of him.

  “Here,” he said, offering me his arm.

  I took his arm, slipping my right arm through his left. He had his left hand in his coat pocket.

  “Do you want my coat?” he asked. His coat was thicker than my jacket. He had been more prepared than me.

  “No, thank you,” I smiled. “I’ll be all right.” I looked around. I hadn’t been walking anywhere in particular but now that I looked up I got my bearings.

  “Umm—,” I started, “we can cross at this intersection to get to the metro.”

  He nodded.

  As we approached the metro I felt another gust of wind. Well, what did I expect? October was like two days away. I shivered again, but this time wasn’t sure whether it was because of the cold or because of him.

  “You’re cold,” Tarek said. It was a statement this time, not a question.

  “Thanks for letting me know, because I would not have figured that out for myself,” I told him, but couldn’t help smiling.

  He laughed. Then he spoke. “Isabel,” he began.

  I looked at him. “Yes?”

  He looked a little nervous.

  “Why don’t you come over for tea, and then I can drive you home?”

  I took a step back from him, but still held onto his arm. His invitation excited me but I also felt conflicted. He must have noticed, because suddenly he was very serious.

  “Isabel, it’s just tea. I promise.” Our eyes met. “I don’t expect anything of you.”

  That was enough for me. I believed him.

  “OK, sure,” I smiled.

  Once we were in his apartment, Tarek made us tea and I sat on his couch. It was so comfortable. I leaned back and sunk my head into the pillows. I also slipped my heels off.

  “Oh my God, this couch is so comfortable.”

  “My sister picked it out,” he was smiling.

  “Well, tell her that she has good taste.” Then I thought of something. “Hey, is she still going out with that guy?” It had only been like a week or so.

  “I think so. I haven’t talked to her since then.”

  “That reminds me,” I said, “I need to call my Mom. I haven’t talked to her in like—” I was thinking, “a couple of weeks, I think.”

  I sighed a long sigh.

  Tarek noticed. I was quickly figuring out that he was really good at reading my moods. “You don’t want to talk to her?” He handed me my tea and I thanked him. Then he sat next to me on the sofa, but not right next to me. There was a comfortable distance.

  “I love her, but it’s always the same old story. ‘Why are you working so hard?’ ‘Are you dating anyone?’ ” I sighed again. “The poor woman has been trying to find me a boyfriend since I was like sixteen years old. I mean—my sisters are attached. I don’t see why she can’t leave me alone.”

  Tarek laughed softly.

  “I mean, how old am I?” I asked rhetorically.

  “It’s funny, all mothers share some things in common.”

  Was his mother giving him the same song-and-dance? But I didn’t have time to ask, since he changed the subject slightly.

  “I’m surprised that you and Eric haven’t gone out.”

  I looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?” I wasn’t surprised about that.

  “You get along really well, I mean—” he was smiling, “as well as you can get along with anyone.”

  “Oh, thanks,” I said sarcastically.

  “I’m kidding,” he said quickly.

  “Tarek, he’s nine years younger than I am.” I emphasized the word “nine.”

  “So?”

  “He’s way too young for me.”

  He was looking at me intently. “So how young is too young?”

  I knew what this was about, or at least I thought I did. Eric was nine years younger than me but Tarek was five years younger than me.

  I decided to answer the question truthfully. “There is no real age limit. At least, I don’t have one. But Eric is too young for me. It’s not that he’s immature for his age, although—” I paused, “arguably he may be. But he’s too immature for me.”

  “Is he someone you would be interested in if he were older and—more mature?”

  “No,” I said automatically.

  “Why not?”

  Then I was thinking. I looked at Tarek and smiled. “Thanks, but I don’t need your matchmaking services.”

  “I wasn’t offering them.” He paused, appearing to consider his next words. “And I didn’t say that you needed them, even if I were offering them, which I’m not.”

  I didn’t say anything; I just looked at him. I decided I was going to wait to see how long it took him to say something to avoid the silence. Or maybe he liked silence. I didn’t. It always made me nervous. But when I started to get tangled up in my thoughts, I didn’t mind it so much. Maybe if the silence went on long enough, with us looking at each other, he would kiss me. Wait, hadn’t he hinted that he wouldn’t do anything unless I did? Is that what he had meant earlier? Then maybe I would kiss him. Did I want to? Yes! Should I kiss him now? I don’t know—

  At last he spoke. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing,” I lied.

  He smiled in a way that told me he knew I was lying. But he didn’t press me on it.

  He put his mug of tea on the coffee table. “You didn’t answer my question, Counselor.”

  “I’m sorry, was there a question?” I remembered, but I was stalling.

  “There was. I asked you why Eric isn’t someone you would be interested in, if he were older and more mature. That’s the question.”

  I considered it. “Maybe I would be, if he were more mature. But—he doesn’t really feel strongly about anything.” I thought out loud. “Maybe it’s because he hasn’t lived enough yet. In any case—”

  “He feels strongly about you.”

  I was confused. “Sorry?”

  Tarek shook his head incredulously. “He likes you, Isabel.”

  “I guess he does, if he hangs around me and Josh all the time.”

  “No, I mean—he’s crazy about you.”

  Now I was incredulous. “That’s not true.”

  “Oh, it’s true.” Tarek was so sure of hi
mself. “Pay attention to how he acts around you, how he dances with you.”

  I was getting worked up. I picked my head up from the back of the sofa and sat up straight. “Tarek, all Brazilians dance like that. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “To him it does.”

  I was suspicious. “Assuming it’s true, which I highly doubt, how would you know that?” Was Eric talking to Tarek about me behind my back, like Josh had?

  “He hasn’t said anything, not to me at least, but it’s obvious if you pay attention.”

  There was something else. He wasn’t telling me something. I could see it in his eyes.

  “What?” I asked.

  “What do you mean, ‘what?’ ”

  I decided to press him this time. It was late and I was getting tired of innuendos. “Tarek, there is something about Eric that you’re not telling me and I want to know what it is. Tell me—please.” Maybe the please would be enough.

  He sighed. “He doesn’t like me.”

  “Why would you think that? Did he say something? If he did, tell me and I’ll kick his ass.”

  Tarek laughed. “No, there’s no need.” He paused. “He hasn’t said anything. But I don’t think he liked me dancing with you. At least, that’s the impression I have.” He looked at me.

  “Well he can like it or not, but he’s not the boss of me. I’ll dance with whoever I want to.” But I was thinking back to the day that I had closed Eric’s laptop on his hand after he had sneaked a peek at what Josh and I were conversing about online.

  “Oh, I know,” Tarek was smiling again. “No one is the boss of you.”

  “Huh,” I said, still thinking. I drank my tea.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, just—it’s interesting. That’s all.”

  “What’s interesting?”

  I proceeded to tell Tarek about that night in class, after Sorority Girl had told him that I “slept around,” that I had been chatting with Josh online, that Eric had snooped and read my messages to Josh, and that afterward Eric had confronted me.

  “He asked me—” I was thinking over everything, thinking about whether there could be any truth to Tarek’s theory that Eric was interested in me. Then I began thinking out loud, and before long I ended up playing another card.