Gin-based cocktails lead to tequila shots.
The jazz band morphs into reggaeton and EDM.
Flickering Edison bulbs become flashing strobe lights.
Carla and I move through worlds, through times, through the past and the present, soaking up every second.
And for this handful of hours, I’m a younger, more carefree, caught-up-in-the-moment version of myself. I’m the guy who rides a motorcycle and doesn’t need to hide it. The man before Mamma passed. Unburdened from constant responsibilities. Free from the compounded emotional weight of feeling too many things, too deeply, for too many years.
I twirl Carla on the dance floor and bring her back to my waiting arms, holding her close as we dance bachata. And dio mio, Carla takes my breath away.
The sidekick of my adolescence is still spunky and sassy, but there’s a softness to her edges now that calls to me. That makes me want to lose myself so deeply inside her that when I emerge, a part of her is imprinted on me for life.
It’s a scary thought. It’s an even more terrifying feeling. I could lose myself in her…and a part of me wants to. Craves it. Desires her with an intensity I’ve never experienced before. Not even with Chiara.
We give ourselves up to the music and the night until the early morning hours. When we step out of the nightclub, the sun is rising. The city streets are mostly quiet, save for the early risers heading to work or the gym.
After hours of dancing, my buzz has mostly disappeared.
“I need water, churros con chocolate, and a pillow,” Carla announces.
Grinning, I wrap my arm around her waist. “Same.”
We stop at a morning bakery, ordering churros and chocolate sauce and several bottles of water before wandering into Parque Central. Taking a seat at one of the picnic tables, we munch on our churros as the sky lightens in sweeps of pink and peach around us.
“I had fun last night,” Carla says, glancing at me shyly. I like that I still have that effect on her, that shy sweetness she rarely shows but has always given me.
In fact, being with Carla has stirred old memories to the surface. The times I would stay at her family’s home for holidays, or visit their beach house in the summer, and we would stay up late talking, playing video games, or goofing off. I’ve always been drawn to her energy, her company.
“It was more than fun,” I admit. “It was one of the best nights I’ve had in a really long time.”
Carla’s eyebrows lift. “Seriously?”
I nod.
She grins and takes a big bite of her churro.
We finish our breakfast and I walk her back to her flat. When we approach the light blue building, Carla glances at me over her shoulder. “Are you coming up?”
I freeze, hesitating. I don’t want her to do anything she’ll regret, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to slide into bed with her. “Is that an invitation?”
“An open one.”
Gesú. Not wanting to waste another opportunity to be with her, I step forward. “Then I’m coming up.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
We enter the building, the elevator, and finally, her flat. When she closes the door and flips the lock, her eyes find mine.
Curious, questioning…hopeful.
I suck in a breath. It’s nearing six a.m. and my second wind crashes into me at the promise Carla is hinting at.
The air between us tightens, anticipation overshadowing every other emotion.
I toe off my shoes and reach for her, curling my fingers under the hem of her shirt. The backs of my fingers brush the smooth skin of her abdomen and I can’t wait to track my hands over every inch of her body. “Are you drunk?” I ask, needing to make sure this is what she wants. That she won’t regret it when she wakes up this afternoon.
“Only on you.”
