My body was shouting for him, too.
I liked Lucas. In every sense of the word. And with each day that passed, I liked him more. Not just because he was handsome; he was also nice, funny, and a little naughty.
And he’d made me think about something besides me and my problems.
My world had started to revolve around him since the first time I laid eyes on him. If that wasn’t a sign, I didn’t know what was.
27
“Matías…”
“I’m just telling you: Be careful, and think clearly about what you’re doing.”
“I am!” I replied like an angry little girl.
I got up, feeling smothered, and walked over to the cracked window.
“Let me remind you,” he said, “you went there for a reason. And now you’ve rented an apartment…”
“A room…”
“Whatever. You’ve moved into this place, you’ve gotten a job, you’ve got the hots for the guy you’re living with, and the way you talk about him, I think you’re actually falling in love. You’re bonding with these people, and…”
“And what, Matías?”
“You still don’t know if that guy’s your dad, and that’s the whole reason you went there.”
“I know,” I said, “but I need to choose the right moment.”
“Well, choose fast before this all blows up in your face.”
“Fine,” I hissed, leaning my head against the windowpane and closing my eyes. He was right: Being silent, drawing things out, couldonly create problems. “I’ve got to go. I need to leave for work in a few minutes.”
“Sure. We’ll talk soon.”
“Hey, Matías? I love you, OK?”
His tone eased. “Love you, too.”
I hung up. Lucas had been awake for a while, and I wondered what he was doing. I walked out in my pajamas and found him standing there with his back turned in a pair of baggy drawstring pants, drying plates and putting them away in the cabinet.
“Good morning,” I said.
He turned and smiled. “Good morning! There’s still coffee left, and Catalina just brought up a fresh-baked cake.”
“Thank God. I’m dying of hunger.”
He took the Moka pot off the stove and poured me a cup. “What about that cake?” I asked.
“It’s on the table under that cloth.”
I lifted a tea towel, and the rich scent of sweet dough struck my nostrils. I cut a slice and sat down, eating while he put away the silverware in the drawer and wiped off the counter. His bare back tensed as he moved, his pants hung low on his hips, and that spectacle, all that bare skin, made something stir inside me. I was so entranced that I didn’t notice he was staring at me, too. Then our eyes met. It was almost like a duel: He was direct, transparent, seductive; I was insecure, but no less intense. I tried to take a breath. I didn’t want to think about what all this meant just now.
Then I saw the clock and leapt up in my seat.
“I’m late!”
“Late?”
