Purposely keeping my steps silent, I walked towards my bedroom door and leaned carefully against it, my ear resting along the wooden door as I listened closely.
“Ay-ay-ay-ay. Canta y no llores. Porque cantando se alegran. Cielito lindo, los corazones.”
Wait…that’s Felix’s voice. Is he…singing?
I leaned a little harder against the door, listening.
“Ese lunar que tienes. Cielito lindo junto a la boca.” His voice was so deep and mellow, carrying this nostalgic sense of comfort with it. A smile grew across my face as I listened, feeling a strange tightness in my chest. It was so foreign to me, but something about this man…this pretty little stalker of mine, pulled me in like a magnet. The way I gravitated toward him felt like fate had decided to shove us together, slamming our souls into one until they collided like the stars, rupturing into the night as a forever reminder of what we had. Sure…I’d only technically know this mysterious man for like a day, but deep in my soul, it felt as if I’d known him in a past life.
I played with the hem of Felix’s shirt, listening to him sing, wrapped in his warm scent. His aroma enveloped me like a warm hug, or that feeling you get when you stand outside and bask in the sunlight. I took a deep breath of him, picking away at the notes of his scent, speaking to myself in a whisper. “Amber…cardamom and ginger…and a hint of tobacco…probably from smoking all those cigarettes.” My cheeks flushed. “He’s like sunshine.” I grinned, remembering how his impressive body was tangled with mine just hours ago, his smell seeping into my pores and filling my lungs. The all too fresh memory woke meup and brought my body to life, giving it a nice morning buzz. It made me shiver as I recalled every little detail of his body…the way his muscles flexed when he moved…the countless different tattoos he had that nearly covered him from the neck down…and the way his skin felt beneath my touch.
So soft.
I ran my fingertip down my arm, reminiscing. My head tilted as I continued to spiral for a moment, losing myself in those gnawing thoughts.
I wonder if he feels the same about me…The way I feel about him…
I shook my head, pushing those clouds away. “No,” I whined. “I’m not doing that.” I turned towards the bedroom door, gripping the doorknob. “I’m not letting him go.” I gently turned it and stepped out into the hall, trying to keep quiet so he wouldn’t notice me. The sound of his singing grew louder as I crept towards the living room, thrown off by what I saw.
Lying in the middle of the living room floor, smoking a cigarette, was a shirtless Felix. He was staring up at the ceiling, gently singing to himself. “Ese lunar que tienes. Cielito lindo junto a la boca. No se lo des a nadie. Cielito lindo que a mí me toca.”
I stopped, popping my head to one side as I looked down at him, intrigued. “What’re you doing?” I asked.
Felix, seemingly unbothered by my presence, remained on the floor and simply raised his arm, pointing toward the shelf on the living room wall. “Your little pet freaks me out.”
I blinked. “You mean Lady Zaza?”
Felix popped his head up and gave me a look. “Lady Zaza?”
I nodded, walking over to the enclosure. “I used to be a big pothead…still kind of am, but I got her when I was eighteen from some sketchy online reseller.” My fingers lifted the top ofthe spider’s enclosure. “She’s been my girl for over ten years.” I reached in, adjusting her water bowl.
Felix sighed, still lying on the floor, smoking. “I don’t like spiders.”
Lady Zaza crawled toward me, stepping onto my palm with her soft legs. I carefully pulled her out and turned to look at him. Felix immediately crawled backward into the couch. I swear he almost choked on his cigarette.
I giggled, holding the magenta-colored tarantula. “I told you she doesn’t bite. See?” I held her a little higher, admiring her color. “Isn’t she just magnificent?” The tone of my voice was filled with admiration for such a delicate little thing. “Do you want to hold her?” I turned to face him.
Felix shook his head. “That’s kind to ask, but, and I mean this with respect…fuck no.”
I nearly burst out laughing. I slowly crept toward him, speaking in a toddler-like voice. “Awww! What’s wrong? Is the big, bad stalker scared of a whittle bitty spider?” I waved my hands around, carefully bringing Lady Zaza closer toward him. Felix nearly jumped over the couch to get away from me. I couldn't help but laugh at how silly he was being. “Oh. relax.” I lifted the spider until she was level with my eyes. “She's just a whittle sweetheart!” Without moving, my eyes shot back to him. “You sure you don’t want to hold her?” I raised my foot, but Felix took a large step back. I giggled, pulling the tarantula close before returning her back to her enclosure.
He exhaled, visibly relieved to see her back in the tank. “Fuck me.” He spat the words out. Felix ashed his cigarette in the small iridescent tray I had on the coffee table as he plopped down on the couch and ran his fingers through his dark hair.
I walked over to him, slithering alongside him on the couch. He pulled me close, spreading my legs along his lap, and wrapped his arm around me. His warm fingertips glided up myspine and rubbed the back of my neck, tracing a bite mark he’d left hours prior. His eyes wandered over my skin, examining my body closely. “I’m surprised you’re awake this early, considering how late you normally sleep in.” He kissed a fresh bruise on my arm. “Figured you’d be out until at least noon after what we did.” My pussy twitched at his voice, sore yet asking for more.
“I heard you singing,” I whispered.
He stopped, lowering his eyes. “Oh,” he breathed. “You heard that.” I didn’t like the way his voice dipped. It made me feel sad.
My body rotated as I turned to look at him. “You were singing in Spanish, weren't you?” He nodded. “It sounded like a lullaby.”
Felix showed the flick of a smile. “I wouldn’t call it a lullaby…but it was sung to me like one when I was younger.”
“By who?” I asked.
His jaw tightened as a dark expression washed across his face for a brief second. “My mother. It was one of her favorite songs.” The corner of his mouth rose as he spoke. “Apparently, her own mother used to sing it all the time back in Cuba. She heard it so much, singing it had become a part of their daily lives. And according to my mother, she spent every day singing it to me, until we could sing it together. Which we did.” His voice wavered.
I gently placed my hand along his cheek. “I’m sorry.”
