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“So, what do you think? Will we use these to make our drink?” A few people shake their head. “No, we roast them first! And lucky for you, I have some already roasted. On the counter in front of each of you, there is a container with roasted beans in it. Go ahead, open it up. Take a sniff. They smell good, no?”
I open our jar and take a deep inhale. The scent is rich, like dark chocolate brownies, hot from the oven, combined with a hint of fresh coffee. I hand the jar to Sebastian, whose eyes widen as he sniffs. When he looks back up, his pupils have dilated and his nostrils flare.
“Ah, you see! It is already working!” Miguelito claps his hands. Sebastian and I break eye contact to look over at him, only to find he’s gesturing at us. Everyone in the room stares. Lovely.
“Now, I will show you how to make the cacao drink.” Miguelito shows the process of hand grinding the beans into fine powder. Then he puts the powder into boiling water. “You can add some dried chilies, or a vanilla pod. And when it’s all boiled, I will show you how to froth it properly. Now you go. Go, go.” He waves his hands at the group.
Besides our jar of beans, on the counter in front of each of us is a small hand grinder, a hot plate with a pot on it, a jar of water, and a handful of peppers and spices. Sebastian and I take turns grinding our beans until they’re a fine powder, a process that is much harder than Miguelito made it look. When we’re done, I’m sweating in the heat. Sebastian has a sheen across his nose.
“What do you want in ours?”
“All the things?”
“I should have expected nothing less,” he says, lifting all three of our dried chilies, both vanilla pods, and a star anise into the pot with our cacao powder. He pours the water in, and while we wait for it to boil, Miguelito shows the frothing technique used by the Maya. He pours the hot liquid back and forth between cups until it does, in fact, seem to be thicker and frothier than before.
“This technique is advanced,” he tells us. “So, I’ll give you a whisk, which is easier. But remember, in the Mayan marriage ceremony, when the cacao was prepared, the woman had to prove that she could froth the Xocolatl.” Miguelito comes back to Sebastian and my counter. “Shall we test it?”
I pick up our whisk and awkwardly whip at our hot cacao water, while everyone in the room stares at me. “Okay,marido, your woman needs your help.” He gestures to Sebastian. “Get behind her and whisk together. Do we have any other lovers here today? Yes? You? He gestures at several couples around the room. “Try this, it works well.” Miguelito turns back to us. Sebastian has not moved. “Come on, come on,” he encourages.
“I don’t—" Sebastian says.
“Come on, show me thosecojones!” Miguelito makes the same mimed gesture as before, pretending to grab his junk. Sebastian steps behind me and gingerly extends one arm around mine to put his hand on the whisk, covering my fingers. “You can do better.” Miguelito pushes Sebastian up against me, so his whole front presses against my back. “Put your hand here.” He places Sebastian’s free hand on my hip. “Hold her close. You must whisk the cacao the right way. Yes, yes.”
At first, Sebastian and I stand stiffly together. I’m intricately aware of how each button on his short-sleeve shirt jabs my spine. The Velcro in the fly of his board shorts pokes me, pressed into my rear by what sits behind it.
“Faster! Whisk more!” Miguelito directs. We pick up our pace and now there’s no way to avoid wiggling against Sebastian. He grips my hip tighter as we whisk, holding me against him. I press back, exploring this feeling. It’s hard to explain how utterly safe I feel in his arms, and yet, how much adrenaline is pumping in my veins at this very moment.
“Now, you are done,” Miguelito says. “It is time to pour and savor.” He hands out small handleless clay mugs, which are carved with Mayan faces. He gives only one to Sebastian and me. “Maridoswill share.”
Sebastian pours the hot, frothy liquid from our pot into our mug.
“Now, you feed her the cacao, and you, him,” Miguelito says. “I will fix all your marriage problems today. You’ll see.” He grins. Sebastian lifts the mug of steaming hot liquid from the counter and brings it level with my mouth.
“Sorry. I don’t know how to do this,” he says. I lean down and skim a sip off the surface. It’s bitter and spicy, and I have to force myself to swallow. We might have added too much chili.
“Wow,” I say, not sure how to describe the flavor. It’s like chocolate, but also much earthier and sharp, like medicine.
“Very good!” Miguelito claps. “Him, now.”
I take the mug, and Sebastian leans down and takes a sip from the top, making a face. I place the mug on the counter.
“Now kiss your wife,hombre,” Miguelito says. Sebastian’s eyes widen and lock onto mine. His throat bobs. We don’t have to do this. I know he won’t want to. He’s way too upright and moral to go through with this. So long as he thinks I’m Anna, and married, he’ll never…
Sebastian has stepped closer to me, his eyes on my mouth. My god. I put my hand against his chest. I should tell him he can stop. But I don’t want him to stop. He licks his lips, and mine part. I can’t breathe.
Miguelito gives Sebastian a little push, and he stumbles forward, his hands catching around my waist, his fingers digging into my sides, while mine press against his chest. Before I even know what I’m doing, I’m on tiptoe with my lips smashed against his. He makes a muffled noise in his throat, like a leashed dog whining for freedom.
For half a beat I’m afraid he’s going to pull away, but he takes a deep breath in, like he’s inhaling my very essence. And then, as if he can’t help himself, his eyes close and his mouth opens, exploring my lips with the softest pressure. I push harder, diving in for more, dragging my teeth over his lower lip. But he stays tentative, forcing me to slow, to listen with my whole body. I let the rhythm of our breath join into a dance as our lips move gently. We’re utterly in sync. Sebastian’s fingers trace up my back, and I gasp. Abruptly, he steps away, hanging his head, his eyes squeezed tight. His fingers brush over his mouth and then his gaze lifts to meet mine. My heart catches in my throat. The way he’s looking at me is pitiful and hungry at once, ready to bite, yet almost whimpering.
“I’m so sorry.” His voice is jagged. He rushes out of the experience center.
I want to go after him, but I don’t. Because even though I’m certain he feels what I feel, everything is wrong. This growing trust between us? The deepening pull? It’s fake. I’ve done nothing but lie to him all week. A stabbing pain shoots through my gut.
If I want to see him after this cruise, I have to tell him I’m not Anna. My stomach twists. Based on everything I’ve learned about Sebastian, about the very things he guards his heart against, my downfall is clear. Admitting I’ve lied to his face all week will be the fastest way to lose him. And yet I have no choice.
* * *
SEBASTIAN
