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“It will be perfect,” he interrupted, cauterizing the end of my concern. “Besides, even if it’s a little tight, I think I’d prefer it.”
“I just want it to be perfect for you. Maybe I’m overthinking it.”
“Well, don’t,” he asserted kindly. “What’s done is done. I’m confident it’ll work.” He bent over, pressing his lips onto mine, holding a kiss that prevented me from even protesting. Maybe the sentiment was a band-aid to the moment, but the kiss felt more permanent than what I was expecting. With a suck of my lip, I felt temporarily disillusioned, like nothing ever happened. Instinctively, I reached up to trace my nails along the ink of his arm, attempting to wrap the width of my hand around his bicep. I moaned, delighted by the smoothness of his lips.
But he pulled away.
“Are you hungry?” My question stretched across the table.
“Absolutely starved.”
“And wet too… I see you were in a rush to get downstairs.” I cooled my tea with a breath, blowing as the sun cast perfect shadows along his face.
“So you’ve noticed.”
“It’s hard not to.”
Alejandro looked me up and down, his cheeks curved into dimples from the sip of his mug. Was he in the mood to flirt? I crossed my legs to see if he would watch, and as he did, he began to tsk.
“I can’t help but think you’re tempting me on purpose. Don’t provoke me, good girl.” His hand fell towards the knot of my robe, tugging it but not untying it.
“And why not?” I asked eagerly, feeling embarrassed as he pulled away. My lips fell into a frown before I could stop them.
“If I start now, I won’t want to leave.”
His otherwise amused expression tittered, though just a moment, slanting to the side. It was in that instance where I could see him—not the man who came down this morning with a smirk—but the one from last night. He was hidden, pretending not to hurt.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Honestly, like a baby,” he covered a slice of sourdough with butter. “And you?”
“Mmmmm… I had a hard time, actually, there was a lot on my mind. I couldn’t get comfortable.”
“Me too,” he replied, but then clarified, “about having a lot on my mind that is.”
“Was it about us?”
He hesitated, taking a bite of crispy toast. “Actually, no. About my schedule. I’ve decided to cancel the interview with The Tonight Show.”
I scrunched my face.
“But why?” I asked defensively. This interview was the whole point of my employment, the very reason I made his suit. Everything we did was all meant for tonight.
“Do I really need to give you a reason?”
“I think so. You can’t just cancel this.”
“I can, and I did.”
“That doesn’t explain why,” I confronted but was met with an assertive stare that shut me up.
It was a stupid question. I already knew the reason, I just didn’t want to accept the guilt. It was because of me, because of what the whole world saw. He told everyone that I was his girl, the verysamegirl that was just caught kissing another man.
“It didn’t feel important,” he answered impatiently. “The party is still on though, that’s not canceled.”
“It is important. We should talk…”
“What is there to really say?” He leaned back, looking away as if bored by it all. “Nothing happened, Gemma.”
