“Well, I’m not glad his father’s doing badly, but I’m so happy you’re here!”
“Me too. I was dying to see you, Matías. You want to go have a bite or something and catch up?”
“Sure. I just need five minutes to drop off my stuff and change.”
I grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him away from the door. “You’re handsome enough. Don’t overdo it. I don’t want all the boys interrupting us.”
He obeyed cheerfully and followed along. With Matías, things were always simple like that. Comfortable. Familiar. It didn’t matter that three months had passed since we’d last seen each other. Time was just a concept. It didn’t have anything to do with the feelings that joined us.
We went to a tapas bar and settled down at a table, ordering a couple of dishes with nonalcoholic beers. The clink of silverware and glasses, the voices of the other diners, the TV in the back—all of it felt so much like home that I started turning nostalgic. Bittersweet. I was happy to be back, but it saddened me to realize this was no longer really my home.
“Tell me now,” I said. “When do you go on tour? Do you already have your dates?”
He nodded and took a sip of his drink. “Beginning of November. We’ll start in London, and yes, our dates are set. It’s a packed schedule—more than I could have hoped for. So I won’t be back in Madrid for a while.”
“Why the frown, then? You should be happy?” I asked because he looked like he was getting ready for a funeral.
“Iamhappy, I can promise you that, but…” He stopped himself and started blushing like a child. And I’d never seen anything make Matías blush. “I met someone. And I can’t believe I have to turn right around and leave.”
I choked on a bite of asparagus and started coughing. “You met someone? Who?”
“His name’s Rubén and we have absolutely nothing in common. But I like him. A lot.”
“When did you meet?”
“Just three weeks ago.”
I pretended to be indignant and threw a wrinkled napkin in his face. “Three weeks! And you didn’t tell me anything?”
“I didn’t want to jinx it, Maya!”
“So you reallydolike him,” I said.
“He’s perfect, and he’s so sure of himself that I feel like an idiot when I’m with him. I swear, I’ve never had anything like this happen before.”
It was hilarious, seeing him so excited like this. “Tell me more,” I said.
“Well, he’s twenty-nine years old, he’s ungodly handsome. He works at a consultancy, but he loves music. He plays bass in a band with some friends.”
“What kind of music?”
“Hard-core. Don’t laugh! I actually had to go to one of his rehearsals a few nights ago, and oh my God! I wanted to die!”
I couldn’t imagine anything more awkward for Matías. All he listened to was classical and easy listening, and then that playlist with nature sounds that he went to sleep to. He went on talking: about their first date, the first kiss three nights later, his body… It was sonice, seeing him all excited like that. I’d never known him to really like another guy. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel scared for him. I didn’t want anyone to hurt him. He was my little boy.
After eating, we wandered around for a while holding hands. I smiled, remembering other times we’d walked together. We’d always enjoyed that, and there was never any need to fill the silence with words. We understood each other the way few people did, and just a touch, a fleeting glance, or a cleared throat was enough to read each other like an open book.
But finally, he did ask me something, “Are you going to tell me what happened, or am I going to have to force it out of you?”
I conceded, “You were right. I should have told him as soon as I got there. It was wrong of me to keep my mouth shut, and now I’ve ruined everything.”
Matías stopped and studied me for a few seconds before pulling me in for a hug. “Oh, girl, I’m so sorry.”
“I screwed it up bad, Matías.”
“Everything has a solution, babe.”
“I’m not sure this does…”
