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“Come on, you don’t want to hear my childhood stories.” She starts toward the door.
“I want to know you; whatever you want to share.”
“Really?” Her eyes search my face.
I answer honestly. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?”
Her eyes grow sad and she walks over to one of the blue leather and chrome barstools. Her shoulders look like she’s carrying a heavy load on them.
“I was only eight when he died.” Her voice is tinged with nostalgia, her voice just above a whisper. I can see her throat working and her eyes glistening. I’m intrigued. At the same time, I’m not sure I want her to continue. Weeping, sad women have always been my weakness. It’s how Fabienne managed to keep us going for so long. She knew if she cried or admitted some fear or heartbreak to me, I wouldn’t be able to walk away from her.
I know it’s cynical. But, I need to be careful here. Especially because I’m also more attracted to her than I’ve ever been to anyone. One minute, I’ll be patting her shoulder to make her feel better, and then the next, I’ll be begging her to let me kiss her.
She sniffles and accepts the tissue I hand her with a sheepish smile. When our hands brush each other, I feel it. Not quite a spark or a tingle . . . but a strong awareness. The connection makes us both stop and pay attention. It would be so easy, to just do what I’ve been wanting to do for the last few weeks. Her skin is calling to me; I only want one more touch. When I put my hands on her shoulders that first day, I felt the smooth texture of her skin against my palm. I want to touch her. So badly. I want to know what she feels like everywhere.
She’s beautiful and far too tempting. I need to get the fuck out of here.
I look down a
t my watch and step back. “Listen, we’ll be late if we do the lesson today. Let’s pick this up tomorrow.”
There’s a pause before she responds, but I don’t look at her. I can’t.
“Tomorrow’s my day off, and I want to sleep in.” She sounds completely relaxed so I take my eyes off my watch. She’s turned her back to me and is rinsing her glass in the sink.
“The day after, then?” I ask. She gathers her hair and piles it on top of her head with a black rubber band that has a permanent home on her wrist.
And when she does that, the soft skin on the gentle slope of her shoulders is exposed. My resolve to keep my distance disappears and I involuntarily take a step toward her. I want to put my mouth there. Just as I start to move, she turns around to face me and I freeze. When she sees my hand outstretched, and me in mid-stride, she looks concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I re-route my hand’s destination and in a lame save, I rub my neck like it’s sore and her expression goes from concerned to confused.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Just a little stiffness in my neck. I need a good hard swim.” God I sound like an idiot. “But, really. I’m glad you felt like you could tell me.”
She smiles brightly and my cock jumps. That decides it. I’m leaving right now and tonight, I’m going to LA. Maybe I just need to get laid.
“I’ll be in LA day after tomorrow, so three days from now?”
“Okay. It’ll give you time to recuperate.” She shoots me a grin and I’m glad the conversation is light again. As if she can feel my relief, she says, “I know it was heavy, but I have to admit it feels good to have gotten that off my chest. I haven’t said those words aloud in a long time. Thank you.” She walks over and steps up onto her tiptoes and presses the softest kiss to my undeserving cheek. I catch a whiff of her vanilla scent and I have to stop myself from wrapping my arm around her waist and holding her to me.
11
Lucía
A little after noon, I head to the office cafeteria for lunch with Dan and Todd. We reached a detente last week. And then on Monday, I brought in some homemade banana muffins for us to share. While we broke bread, we found that we were all dying for the next season of Game of Thrones to start. They decided I couldn’t be a total idiot if I could see how everything that went wrong for the Starks started with Kaitlyn Stark’s myopia when it came to Jon Snow. We’ve gotten along well ever since. We still have disagreements about the screenplay, but they listen to me and I’m learning a lot from them, too.
We’re about to sit down when I see Coco by himself at one of the tables that overlooks the water. I meant to speak to him earlier, so I excuse myself and walk over to him.
Despite what Sol said, he’s been nice every time I’ve seen him.
“Hey, is this seat taken?” When he sees it’s me, he smiles warmly. “It’s all yours, Lu.” His use of a nickname surprises me, but we’ve become pretty friendly in the last few weeks, so I ignore the slight discomfort I feel at hearing it.
“Thanks, Coco. You’ve got the best view in the room. I could look out at that all day.”
“Yeah, me too. It’s one of the reasons I never mind me being on assignment out here. That, and the fact that I get to drive you around.”
“I’m sure the view beats driving me any time.” I laugh, but when he doesn’t join me, I look at him. He’s watching me closely and my laughter dies.
“I’m starving!” I tell him as I try to hide my discomfort.
