My knuckles rap against the doorframe, and he looks up at me while closing his locker. “Want to hang out?”
His expression instantly softens. He steps forward until he towers over me, and when he lifts his hand to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth, I feel my breath losing itself somewhere in my lungs.
His touch disappears as soon as it lights my body on fire, and when he locks his gaze to mine before licking the pad of his thumb to collect the powdered sugar he found on my face, a flush of embarrassment creeps up my cheeks. “I’d like that,” he murmurs. “Let’s go.”
We eat lunch at the mall, walk around, and take mental notes for our Christmas shopping, and when we get back to my place, we both take an impromptu digestive nap on my couch with a Hallmark movie playing on the TV.
I wake up an hour later, feeling warm. I don’t remember falling asleep with a blanket covering me, but when I realize it’sbecause Diego has draped it over me, I hide my face to mask my foolish smile. He’s still asleep when I chance a look at him – lying on his back with one hand on his stomach and the other limp by his side, Tabby curled on his chest with her face resting in the crook of his neck, and a blanket covering his legs.
With the early afternoon sun filtering through the curtains, a kaleidoscope of golden light caresses his face, and, like this, he might be the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. I snap a picture, assigning it as his contact photo in my phone, then go busy myself with content planning for the next couple of weeks.
Diego wakes up thirty minutes before we have to leave for our skiing lesson. When he notices the black cat still sleeping on him, he grunts loudly, but doesn’t move her until he has to get up and use the bathroom.
His eyes lock on mine as he lifts Tabby to set her between us. He notices my smug smile and grabs the nearest throw pillow to chuck it at me. “Not a damn word, Alara.”
“You like Tabby,” I sing-song.
“I fucking don’t.”
I can’t help the laugh spilling out of me. “Yeah, yeah, keep lying to yourself.”
Once at the resort, he’s still adorably sleepy and doesn’t engage much with me, which I don’t mind. I don’t miss the way he so very often looks my way, though, and I like to believe he’s thankful for my company.
This week, in the group of kids we’re teaching, we have Sammy who clings to Diego every minute of the lesson. He keeps staring up at Diego like he’s a superhero, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks for an autograph by the end of the week.
When we’re back in the car as the sun is setting, I quickly snap a picture of the sky tinted in a coalescence of burning colors with the snowy mountains in the foreground. Diego stares at me, amused.
“What?” I ask, starting the engine.
“I bet you have an entire album called sunsets in your gallery,” he mocks, unzipping his coat.
“I do.”
“Cute.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“No, actually. I like that you capture everything you find beautiful this way.”
My cheeks flush as I think of the picture I took of him and Tabby sleeping. I don’t say anything, but, surprisingly, he talks all ride long about his family’s plan for Thanksgiving and how he doesn’t want to see his distant cousin Miguel, who always tries to steal his watch.
Arriving in town, I ask him, “Am I dropping you off?”
I feel his gaze rest on my profile like a lover’s caress, tracing the contours of my features like he’s trying to ingrain my portrait in the back of his mind. It both unsettles and makes me hot. “Can we hang out again?”
There’s a hint of desperation dripping from his words, wrapping itself around my heart. “You’re not sick of me yet?”
He smiles. “Depends. You’re tolerable today.”
We stop at a red light, and my gaze finds his. “I was going to make pasta for dinner. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure.”
“Do you have any allergies?”
He shakes his head. “None, but I don’t like mushrooms. You?”
“Let’s see . . . Strawberries, assholes, and hypocrites.”
