Date = 27 March
Place = San Francisco (Palace of Fine Arts)
POV Enrique
“Where are you?” I’m on the phone waiting at the door for my ‘girlfriend’ to arrive, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst. I’ve learned in the past week not to expect anything rational from Aria, cause she will surprise you.
“Eh, in the limo, duh!” This girl will drive me through the madhouse straight to hell.
“Aria! Stop doing that!”
“Then don’t ask me questions I don’t have the answers for! For the last time, get it into that robotic skull of yours I don’t know San Francisco, Sport!” I open my mouth to comment, but she hangs up the phone. I take the phone from my ear and look at the screen as if I need some proof that she just did that.
I take a deep breath and count to 20 ten just won’t cut it this time. It’s the second time she’s done this hanging-up-on-me shit and it is extremely annoying. Deep inside I know she’s right … she doesn’t know the city yet … but it doesn’t matter. For some reason, I need to know where she is at all times. I scroll to her number to dial her back but the limo turns around the corner. I couldn’t meet her at home, so I organized a car to pick her up instead.
The paparazzi are already swarming around like bees, waiting to capture the best moments, and Aria’s airport debacle made them hungry for more blood. So even before I can make a move, they’ve circled around the limo fighting to get the best spots.
Still verging on the edge of anger, I open the door and pray again softly in my head, hoping for everything to be okay. It doesn’t need to be perfect, I’ll be happy with just non-disastrous.
I hold out my hand and she steps out of the car showing lots of leg skin. She straightens herself, and I do a very, very slow top-to-bottom and back inspection of her image.
My anger dematerializes, as my mind drops to my junk. She looks absofuckinglutely stunning! I can’t tell you much of the little black number except that it’s short and black and the sexiest thing I’ve laid eyes upon.
She’s displaying just enough cleavage to pique your interest, wanting to see more. And the only problem I have now with those ‘short’ legs in the high heels, is that they’re not wrapped around my hips … or my neck I’m not picky. Her hair is partly tied up, loose curls framing her face and running down her back. The small touch of makeup on her face enhances her fairy-like features, her green orbs popping with a mysterious, smokey effect.
Stuck in each other’s eyes, we just stand there for hell knows how long. Then my gaze drops to her plump, pink lips and it’s as if I know I have to move, but for the life of me, I can’t budge.
Then she pulls my head down into a totally unexpected kiss, leaving me paralyzed for a mere second, but instinct takes over and my arms shift to pull her into my heated body. Her wild-flower scent suffocates me with heavenly ecstasy, but before I can deepen the kiss, she pulls back, quickly looking into my eyes before shying away.
Only then do I register exactly where we are and I look awkwardly at the now huge crowd of photographers around us, cameras flashing like crazy. Aria tries to hide her face shyly in the dip of my shoulder. Fuck! I’ve never kissed a girl in public before. You won’t find a single photo of me locking lips with anyone … before now that is.
Worse, I’m now in a difficult situation, with a full-on mountie, and a slew of cameras aimed directly at me another unfamiliar experience might I add. I scratch the hair behind my neck, feeling rather uncomfortable in front of the cameras for the first time in my life. Pulling my shirt from my pants as unnoticeable as possible, I let it hang over to try and hide the unwelcome bulge before taking her hand to walk into the building.