Date = 4 April
Place = San Francisco (Enrique’s home)
POV Aria
I wave until the pickup disappears around the corner and let out a sigh of relief. Deimos and Haley, together with Alejandro and Noah, are taking the kids on a road trip to San Diego, stopping at every attraction along the way, including Disney Park and Legoland. It goes without saying that my little sister is boiling over with excitement.
Since Leyla’s next chemo treatments are scheduled for next week on her birthday, no less – I’m grateful for the break cause I need to sort out my head.
Enrique has been a little … er … distracted these last few days … since I fell overboard. But tonight we’re gonna talk. I put a pot of water on the stove it needs to boil before I add the spaghetti. My mom was famous for her bolognese and I’m using her secret recipe to prepare him the best pasta he ever tasted.
“Something smells good,” I turn around to find a still glistening wet Enrique leaning against the door frame, only covered by a towel. For a little minute, I can just stare at the godlike beauty of this guy, oblivious to the fact that the spoon I’m holding is dripping sauce onto the floor.
He waves his hand in front of my face and I blink from my dreamlike state.
“Eh, yes, I thought I’ll cook and the two of us can have dinner together,” I manage eventually when I get my voice back. Enrique gets a smirk on his face, one that means trouble, and he slowly moves even closer. I feel rather weak in the knees, but I hold my pose.
“Is this like a date, little fairy?” His face is now precariously close to mine and I swallow on instinct. I’m not sure if he wants an answer to that question or not so I rather bite down on my bottom lip to not say something stupid. His eyes drop to my mouth.
“You’re walking on dangerous ground,” he says with a husky voice, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. The little shock-waves his finger leaves on my skin, jolt me back to reality.
“Shoo!” I purposely put my hands on his bare chest (a girl has to inspect the package) and push him back, “Get out of my kitchen!”
He reluctantly leaves. I fan my heated face with my hands, “And put some clothes on!” I yell out as an afterthought, cause him being naked is not good for my hormones.
“You could always take yours off,” he laughs wickedly and I feel hot again all over.
I finish the food and pour two glasses of wine, downing one and refilling it. It’s to stabilize my fluttering heart. When did I become so obsessed with this man? When did he manage to wiggle his robotic ass into my heart? I close my eyes and take another big sip of wine, knowing full well that I’m on my way to a catastrophe. My heart is gonna slam solidly into one of his many walls, just to shatter, and there’s nothing I can do about it it’s already too late.
So I put on a brave face and enter the living room, taking the bottle of wine with me for good measure it’s now or never.
“Okay, mister, start talking. What’s your problem lately?” I hand him a glass and flip down on the sofa next to him. At least he listened and got dressed, but I’m not so sure it’s for the better the T he’s wearing enhances the blue in his one eye and I’m once again astray in his gaze.
“Who says I have a problem?” he counteracts, looking all innocent and cute. I close my eyes, count to ten, and open them again slowly. Grant me patience, please. I impatiently tap one finger on the armrest of the couch.
“Seriously … I’m not one of those dimwitted fuckbuddies of yours … I verily have a brain,” I’m not sure where that came from. Is it possible that I’m actually jealous? Of those stupid girls? Did I sound jealous? More importantly – did he notice?
He intertwines his fingers in front of his chest and looks at me as if he’s doing some serious mathematics in his head.
“What’s between you and Brian?” I’m shocked … Brian? Not exactly the conversation I was expecting.
“Me and Brian?” I ask slowly. Because I must have misheard.
No … he’s dead serious, a vein jumping in his square jaw.
“Eh … there’s nothing … ” I start stuttering but get interrupted.
“Don’t you dare lie to me,” I can hear in his voice that it’s no ill threat.
“Enrique, there’s nothing between me and Brian … and there never will be! I don’t even like the guy,” I scowl, desperately attempting to conceal the hurt his words caused.
“Then why did you beg him to come to the party?” His question throws me for a sucker. Beg? Brian? Did Brian say that?
“I didn’t … they invited themselves … seriously I didn’t even know they were going to be there,” I down the last bit of wine in my glass to numb the pain a little, looking him straight in the eye, before I excuse myself to go dish up the food. He swears and hits the table as I walk away, but I don’t turn around. I don’t know why he’s so angry. Maybe after he ate my delicious food he will calm down a little.
“Get a grip Aria,” I pep-talk myself while garnishing the pasta, “it was just a question … a stupid question, but still. Don’t exaggerate! Don’t let it spoil the evening.”
I shake my head slightly and take a deep breath before I leave the kitchen with two bowls of food. I take a whiff of the wonderful aroma, and knowing that the food is top-notch, I feel a little more confident that this night won’t be a total disaster. At least we’ll enjoy a good meal. I plaster a smile on my face, ready to stun him stupid with my cooking.
“Ta-da,” I joyfully place the bowl of deliciousness in front of him, “get ready for a serious taste sensation!”
The man first turns pale; white like a frigging snowman, and then he leaps to his feet and gags before aggressively picking up the plate from the table. As if in slow motion, I watch the dish splatter to pieces against the wall behind me, some of the food splattering to stain my sweater. I stand back and cross my arms protectively in front of me, my mouth gaping from shock.
He swears and bangs his hand into the glass door of the wall cabinet next to him; blood oozing from his hand drips onto the floor to mix with the spilled food.