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“Does that surprise you?” He pulls into a parking lot, abutting a small restaurant decorated with white and blue.
“It does, a little,” I admit. “I grew up in Hialeah. My parents are both blue collar, so money is tight. I worked those campus jobs to pay for gas, although I didn’t have as far to drive as you did, and I spent most nights at home studying and babysitting my younger siblings. I think I went to two parties on campus in all four years. Greek organizations were out of my budget. The dues were outrageous. I still live at home, actually.”
Elian grins. “Me too. But I’d say our circumstances have improved, no?” I smile in response, and he gestures to the restaurant. “Shall we?”
Chapter4
It turns out the place he selected is a cozy Greek restaurant, right on the water. We watch the sun go down as ships pass, and reminisce about our shockingly similar college experiences before talking about plans. The dinner lasts nearly three hours, and the staff never pressure us to leave, even though we linger long after the food is gone. Elian leaves a generous tip, and after sharing a bottle of wine and far too much food, I’m content and a little light-headed when we leave.
We ate rather early by Miami standards; the parking lot is full and others are just arriving to start their meal with the fading sunlight, barely an orange glow on the horizon. Elian walks me to the passenger side of his new car and I expect him to open the door, but instead he hesitates, grabbing my hand.
“Sloane, I’m so happy you were at Kellerman’s yesterday. It was like fate threw us together again.” He steps closer, clutching my fingers between us and pressing me gently against the side of the car with his body. In the low light his eyes are dark and mysterious, the spicy scent of his cologne mixed intriguingly with the salty sea air.
“Well, you have my number. You could have texted me anytime.” My rapidly skipping heart steals my breath and undermines my attempt at being flippant. He’s so close, his gaze intent on my face, and my eyes drop involuntarily to his mouth.
“I didn’t know what to say, how to even begin explaining,” he murmurs. “But it turns out it was more natural than I thought.”
And with that, he leans forward and kisses me.
My breath catches in my throat. In a million desperate fantasies, I imagined just this scenario. Well, not exactly this one. It was always while we were working, cleaning up after an event, hauling cases of left-over wine back into the kitchen or bins of tablecloths and decor. We’d share a moment, he’d give me a look, and then we’d be kissing passionately and ripping off each other’s catering aprons.
The reality is far better than I imagined. His mouth is soft and warm, starting with a gentle press before his tongue slips between my lips and teases mine to come out and play. I’ve never been a damsel, but suddenly my knees are weak and the only thing holding me up is an expensive car and Elian’s body pressed against mine.
Elian’s fingers slip into my hair, supporting my head as his kisses grow more insistent. I find myself breathless, chasing his tongue, pressing back against his mouth as my arms wind around his waist.
We make out unabashedly in full view of the restaurant, the parking lot, and anyone driving by on the street. In the back of my mind, I know I ought to be a little more concerned, but I can’t find it in myself to care. It’s as if, after so many years of dreaming, this Cinderella finally got her chance to make out with the prince. Who cares if the entire kingdom is watching?
Eventually we break apart, and Elian chuckles. “That wasn’t exactly what I was planning, but I couldn’t resist. It seems like I’ve been waiting forever to kiss you.”
My heart thuds painfully, along with a pulse of heat that resonates between my legs. “It’s okay, I didn’t mind,” I answer breathlessly.
He settles me into the passenger seat and closes the door gently. When he climbs in and exits the lot, his right hand settles on my bare knee. My gaze rises to meet his eyes; they’re liquid and gleaming in the darkness, and my heart pitter-pats in response.
The conversation is easy on the drive back to my office, and Elian’s fingers trace light patterns on my lower thigh. He never attempts to press further up my leg, and half of me appreciates his gentlemanly behavior while the other half begs silently for him to stop being so well-behaved.
Naturally, he drives me into the garage and drops me at my old Nissan, which looks even worse for wear next to his shiny new Beemer. Elian doesn’t comment, just leans in for one more gentle kiss. “I’ll follow you out of the garage,” he promises in a silky voice. “I just want to make sure you get on the road safely.”
“Okay, thank you. I’m sure I’ll be fine, but I appreciate it. And thank you for dinner. And… everything.” I glance up at him through my lashes and catch his wide, dimpled-out smile.
“You’re very welcome, Sloane. My pleasure. Text me and let me know you get home safe?”
I nod, then sigh, knowing it’s time to go. After hopping out and closing the door to the shiny vehicle gently, I cringe before yanking open the sticky, creaking door of my vehicle.
But a girl’s gotta have pride. This car has treated me well, and I own it. Nothing to be ashamed of here.
A glance in the rearview mirror as I pull out shows Elian’s car behind me, but I can’t see his face. I try not to wonder what he thinks of my held-together-with-duct tape vehicle, given what I know now. I thought he had a very nice car in college, and to him it was his mom’s hand-me-down that embarrassed him to drive.
We were definitely from different worlds.
Even so, as I turn left out of the garage and Elian flashes his brights once before turning right, my chest warms. It may be later than I imagined, far later than I ever thought, but it certainly seems the prince has finally come looking for me, after all.
* * *
The entire drive home, I replay the memory of the day—starting with the flowers and ending with that last tender kiss—in exquisite detail.
Even though it was unlikely, I’d hoped that the mystery kiss I had two years ago at a fraternity Halloween party had been him. It was dark; I was tipsy, and we’d both been wearing costumes. He was dressed as Zorro, and he felt familiar to my intoxicated self. I caught his arm as he walked by, fairly certain it was Elian and exceedingly brave thanks to the alcohol in my system. His eyes were dark and intense behind the mask, and when we started dancing, his hands roved over my body in a way that turned me into putty. Before long we were making out; a hot, delicious escape from the realities of life.
I don’t know how long we kissed, but suddenly my masked Zorro stepped back, planted a kiss on my hand, and whirled around, his cape flying as he disappeared into the crowd of writhing coeds.
