by Cherry Kay
“Neither did I. You were waiting for some bad news around the corner? To justify leaving?” One of his brows arched.
She shook her head, stifling her embarrassment. “I don’t think I can. I don’t know the city very well, and even if I did, I still wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be nice.”
“So you care about being nice? Don’t you value your own safety?”
“As far as I’m concerned, I think I’m in good hands,” she replied to him, tightening the bathrobe around her unconsciously.
“What makes you say that?”
She shrugged. “It just feels like you’d be willing to keep me safe. Anyone safe, actually. Besides, you wouldn’t take me to a favorite bistro just to have some malicious intent behind it, right? You’re too visible there. People talk.”
He laughed. “Don’t turn this into some sort of criminal profiling. I just asked you a question.”
“Well, I’m answering it.”
He held his hands up. “Alright, alright. I’m satisfied. So… hungry?”
She nodded, and moments later, he served her a plateful of Spanish style omelets. He took a seat across from her, and they began to eat in silence. It stifled her, that they were quiet while they ate. She didn’t quite like small talk, but she couldn’t stand the quiet either, not when she had just slept with him.
“I—” they both began together.
“You first,” he prompted.
“No, you first.”
“I insist, señorita.”
“I find this all um… weird. This is all new to me.”
“It’s foreign?” he joked.
They both broke into laughter, a fit of it, actually, so that Iesha nearly teared up, and she struggled to take deep breaths in to control herself. Wasn’t this how relationships were supposed to be?
“Alright, alright,” she said, taking in another deep breath. “I’m serious. I feel weird about this. What next? I just want to tell you ahead that—”
“This isn’t a one-time thing?” he finished for her.
It didn’t surprise her. She had been quite predictable to him from the moment they had met. People with their hearts on their sleeves were so easy to read, weren’t they? “Yeah,” she breathed out.
“It doesn’t feel that way for me, at least not at this moment.”
“Wait till I get back to my place. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”
“I don’t think I will,” he said, looking at her. “A lot happened in a span of a few hours, with you. I can’t even find myself calling you by your given name. I barely know anything about you… and yet, I don’t think this was a one-time fling.”
She felt her cheeks warm up, surprised by his candidness (again). “Maybe it’s the sangria.”
“We were both sober. Else, we couldn’t have done what we did,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Are you sure you weren’t a gymnast in your past life?”
She laughed, embarrassed. “Wait till I learn the flamenco.”
“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked her.
“Stroll around the city, I guess.”
“Sounds like a nice idea. I, unfortunately, have work.”
She nodded. “I wouldn’t dare ask too much from you.”
“Although I would like to see you again,” he added.
Iesha concentrated on finishing her meal. The Spanish style omelets were pretty tasty. So he was an architect, and he could cook to save a life, not to mention, he was good-looking. There had to be something wrong about this, right?
“If you aren’t busy…” her voice trailed off. “I don’t want to seem like a negative person here, but…”
“You already are being negative. What’s bothering you?”
“I know this is happening all too fast. We’re not being practical.”
“People like you are never practical.”
“No, but you are.”
He looked at her and sighed. “I guess I can lose touch of myself sometimes. All this level-headedness is bound to sway once in a while. So… happening all too fast? I’m not saying we move in together or anything.”
“While it lasts?” she chimed in.
“You’re leaving, I know. While it lasts…” he paused. “Dinner, tomorrow?”
“We’ll see,” she said, biting her lower lip.
“I can send you to places you have to be in, places you have to see while you’re here.”
“If it doesn’t take away too much of your time,” she said.
“It won’t. I’ll just text everything,” he said. “But, is dinner a go tomorrow?”
She found herself nodding. How could she say no? The stars were aligned for her, and she would be a fool to say no to the attractive and charming Alex Gonzalez.
*
He had dropped her off at her apartment, just twenty minutes from his. What were the odds in that? That he should meet a tourist who was within the vicinity? Iesha, he just had to meet Iesha. He wanted to see her again, and it wasn’t just a sudden obsession.
I’m still within healthy limits, he told himself. She didn’t seem like she could hurt him, but then again, Ana didn’t seem like she could, either. He didn’t want things to go wrong with Iesha. There was something telling him this was all meant to be, that she was going to be worth it, like some elusive award.
What do I know about her? I didn’t even get to ask her what her favorite color was, if she had any pets, if she liked her bacon extra crispy, or not. Heck, he didn’t even know when her birthday was. He was tempted to make a list of questions, but he knew that would only raise her suspicions, that he was just some nutcase, after all this time.
Where were they having dinner tomorrow? Would she want more Spanish food? His omelets were decent, but not enough to make someone fall in love with him. He shook his head, chuckling to himself. Alright, so it was all too fast. He didn’t give himself breathing space. But the memory of her naked against him… it made him smile.
Iesha Thompson drove him crazy, didn’t she? Why feel something this much for someone you just met? His inner voice was asking him this. He had no answers to it. He just knew that he had waited for her, only he didn’t know it would be her until he met her in person. Did that make sense?
Rationalizing things only made him want to ask more questions. He didn’t want to walk out of this empty-handed, disappointed, and most of all, hurt. Risks needed to be done at every turn of their… what was this? A relationship? Could he call it that? They weren’t even friends yet, let alone lovers. But he had told her he didn’t want it to be a one-time thing, and she obviously felt the same.
What was he doing taking her for Sangria with tapas, and then dinner the next day? Yes, he was making a move for it. A move for what? To make her stay? There was no point in making her stay. She had a business to go back to, a family to go home to. She had nothing here, except for that fleeting feeling she probably felt the same feeling he felt.
That was the problem with feelings; one always changed his or her mind in the end. Just like Ana had done. Once she decided he was worth cheating on, it was the end of their relationship. Was he traumatized? He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t find it in himself to be committed to one woman, though. It was a string of dates here and there, all the time. He had fun, though sometimes he got bored, but overall, he liked being single. So why was he suddenly so clingy? His self-control was still there, so he hadn’t lost his mind over her, yet. Yet.
It wasn’t just the sex, right? They had some spark there, something he didn’t want to let go of, even if he knew he had no right to cling to it in the first place. We just happened to be at the right place, at the right time. I just happened to bump into her. It didn’t sound romantic at all, unless one gave meaning to it, but he wanted to put meaning into it. Sighing, he drove into his apartment’s garage, wondering why he was torturing himself with something that was supposed to be a happy occasion.
What’s so happy about infatuation? It was a brief, all-too-unreal moment, just like her supposed stay in Spain.
*
She had been dropped off at her rented apartment a few moments ago, one that was surprisingly just minutes away from his own building. What were the odds that they should spy on the same stretch of beach every day? What were the odds that they meet when she was just a tourist?
She realized she wanted to see him again already. Was she going nuts over someone she had just met? It had only been a day, for Pete’s sake.
I’m still within non-obsessive limits, she told herself. Alex didn’t seem like he could hurt her, but then again, she had assumed wrong, that Terrence didn’t seem like he could hurt her, either. She was worried that things could go wrong with Alex, yet there was something telling her that this was all meant to be, that it was going to be worth it.
What do you know about him? I didn’t even get to ask him what his favorite color was. As if favorite things like colors mattered, right? Did he have any pets? She enjoyed her mother’s pets; it was a mini menagerie in her parents’ home. She hoped he liked bacon, but was there some Spanish substitute for bacon? Heck, she didn’t even know when his birthday was. She was tempted to make a list of questions, but she knew that it would only give out that negative, crazy-ass vibe, something she wanted to avoid.
Where were they having dinner tomorrow? Should she dress nice? His omelets were great, almost enough of a reason to be with him. She shook her head, smiling to herself. So it was happening all too fast, huh? Had she given herself enough breathing space? You sleep with a guy once, a kind of guy like that, and you’d wanna sleep with him again the next day, right?
Alex Gonzalez wouldn’t leave her mind, even while she showered, even while she sent a message to her mother regaling her about today’s trip, cautiously leaving out meeting Alex. Why bother to feel something this much for someone you just met? Her inner voice had no answers to it. She had no idea that she would meet someone so perfect on the first day of her trip to Barcelona. Her mother had suggested Seville for flamenco lessons, but she gravitated to Barcelona. It was with good reason—without that unknown inclination, she wouldn’t have met him.
Why rationalize? He had mentioned she was feeling, and she knew it was true. It was how her mother walked through life, more by feeling and less by calculated risks. What was going to be the end of this? She didn’t want to think about the bitter end. It was going to be bitter, right? She was only here for a month and a half. He had mentioned he didn’t want it to be a one-night thing, echoing her sentiments. How long would that sentiment last?
She was excited for tomorrow, wondering how she would bide her time until dinner. She would dress nicer, look prettier, as if he had asked her out on her first date. She would make a fuss out of her appearance, even if she had no right to assume this would be for long term. What was the point in doing all this?
We’re just getting to know each other better. I’m not overstaying my welcome. Tourist entry, tourist exit, she told herself, closing her eyes. Remember, you left your boutique back home, a boutique that Terrence had been fully supportive of. She frowned.
There was nothing holding her here, except for his chiseled face and body, his scorching eyes, and the way he held her in his… she stopped and shook her head. Ugh, that was the problem with feelings; one always changed his or her mind in the end. Just like how Terrence decided to cheat on her. It was a conscious decision, she knew. Well, at least he had gotten a white girl pregnant, something his right-winged republican grandfather had always wanted.
Iesha hadn’t dated since that disaster of a break-up. Her family tried, her relatives tried, her friends tried. She didn’t want to see anyone, effectively shutting off any possible date back home. Meeting Alex was something else. It was sudden, in a span of a few hours.
It wasn’t just the sex, right? They had some spark there, something she didn’t want to let go of. We just happened to be at the right place, at the right time. He just happened to bump into me. It didn’t sound romantic at all, unless one gave meaning to it… no, I want to put meaning into it. This was nothing serious. This was nothing to be concerned about. Infatuation was fun, for the moment, and perhaps she had read him wrong. There was a reason why things moved fast—it was because of her all-too-short stay.
Chapter5
“Listen,” he began, “I think we should hire a coordinator.”
“What prompted your change of heart?” his sister sighed. “I thought you were going to help me on this.”
“It’s just… things,” Alex reasoned out lamely, looking at his watch, surprised that it was only three in the afternoon and he had wanted dinner at seven.
“Things happen to me, too. I’m a frickin’ doctor,” Anita told him. “Their anniversary is only a month away. Don’t bail out on me.”
“We’re hiring an event specialist. My call, my expense.”
“I thought this was going to be a little get-together.”
“Then the specialist can work with that,” Alex said.
“What’s going on?” his sister demanded.
“Nothing, it’s just that there’s so much to do.”
“I have a child, and my clinic is open every day Monday to Friday from eight in the morning till three in the afternoon. You?”
“You know I don’t sleep when I have pending projects,” Alex sighed. He disliked lying to his sister, but it was sort of true. He had mapped out his working hours for the month and relegated the spare time to be with Iesha. Just to, you know, get to know her better, he thought. He knew there were moments where lack of sleep was just going to be a necessity. Little sacrifices…
“Look, we planned this just days ago.”
“Don’t use my niece against me,” Alex breathed out, knowing his sister was going to pull that card out.
“Just please, check out the hotel. I’m sure you can pop by during one of your afternoon strolls. You still have that habit, right?”
His sister knew him well enough. “Yeah,” he said irritably.
“Great. Then you can check on catering and the entertainment.”
“Wait, what? What about you?”
“I’m working on the program as we speak. I’ll have to come up with some excuse to have mama get a designer dress.”
“Alright, alright,” he huffed, “I’ll see what I can do. I thought this was a collective effort and not you bossing me around.”
“You love me.”
“It’s a curse,” Alex replied shortly.
Anita laughed, ending the call.
His sister had known that he would always accommodate her. It was near abusive, he thought, shaking his head and smiling. He knew his sister wouldn’t fail with the program and whatever else she planned to do—Anita being the control freak that she was. He could imagine his mother wearing a ball gown, and it made him smile.
His mother had always been his source of support when he’d been in school, a pillar of steadfastness despite her busy schedule. How his father got to even date his mother was beyond him. Ines Cuaron Gonzales had been one of those society girls back then—beautiful, popular, rich. Alex knew the story well.
His father, Alfonso, had been a clerk’s son, someone who had struggled to get by. Seeing the young Ines in high school made him work hard. At the very least, Alex was thankful for the luxuries he had been given in life through his father’s great efforts—and his mother’s as well. They didn’t lack for anything, and it was due to that begrudging fact that he tolerated all his father’s demands and his judgments.
Perhaps, in his own way, his father had deemed Ana Jimenez to be his wife’s equivalent—Ana, his future and already ex-daughter-in-law. Alex scoffed at that. Ana wasn’t kind, not in the end. All those little ugly things about her compounded, and Alex had only realized it when they had sort of grown distant with each other (her excuse for cheating— brilliant, really).
It wouldn’t be this way with Iesha. She was different; she was someone new. She was someone who wasn’t from Barcelona, let alone Spain. She would leave in a month and a f
ew days, give or take. That would be all the time in the world he had with her. He felt it wasn’t enough at all.
*
Flamenco classes had started earlier, at one in the afternoon. Iesha had made sure she didn’t eat too much, lest she throw up on her first day. With sweat on her brow and sweat forming on her back, she realized that while she had known it wasn’t easy, it was actually way more than that. It was a challenge, something that needed more than rhythm and guitars and the traje de flamenca. It needed that burning desire to dance, to trust her body and not be afraid of using it.
It was a physical discipline she hadn’t expected, a far cry from the contemporary and hip-hop dancing she had been used to. There was an energy that she wasn’t used to, and this was all for her first day of class.
There were a few of them, and she was the only American, the only foreigner, learning a dance that had characterized Spanish culture for hundreds of years. They were friendly to her, especially so when they found out she spoke fluent Spanish. The flamenco instructor didn’t need to switch from English to Spanish, saving time and saliva.
She had worn an old flamenco outfit, one she had bought while still in America. It was a black ruffled thing, with enough room to sway and stomp in. She found out it was an authentic dress, and was glad she was told that it was one. At least it saved her face from being ‘the ignorant tourist who just wanted to learn a bit of flamenco and show off back home’.
Iesha was in this wholeheartedly. She came here for this alone, and perhaps, Alex was a happy subplot to her flamenco story. She knew her facial expressions were a far cry from the seasoned ones in the room; in fact, her facial expression seemed to be that of frustration.
Still, she ended the practice four hours later with high hopes. With lessons every other day, she knew she had to fill in the gaps of boredom. She could travel further, all the way to Andalusia, the home of flamenco, just to see the dancing for herself.
She wondered what Alex was doing; in fact, she wondered about him often while in practice. It was a bad thing, this sudden dependency for someone. Of course, he wouldn’t be thinking the same way. He just met me, she thought, disappointed.
