Page 19 of A Follow-Through in Faking
“Then your back. Whatever made you flinch a few times the other night. Don’t lean so far back. Your weight shouldn’t drag you backward. Instead, throw the ball a bit more straight and forward,” I explain, my hands still not touching her even though my fingers are itching to wrap around her arms.
“I’ve been serving like this for years. I’m consistent, able to place the ball well, and have decent speed,” she argues, but when she moves her arm again to bounce the ball on the ground, she flinches visibly. “Fuck. Okay, show me how to improve it.”
If there is one thing I’ve always adored about Cata, it’s the way she handles feedback or suggestions. Even though she hates me, she’s going to listen. She’s going to take my advice into consideration and learn from it.
“May I put my hands on you?” I ask, my chest rising and falling a little too quickly for my liking.
“You don’t have to touch me. Do it yourself and show me that way,” she says, and I almost sigh. We’re never going to allow her to build trust with me if she shuts down all my attempts at intimacy.
“Just… let me,” I whisper, my mouth suddenly closer to her ear than I intended for it to be. Cata stiffens momentarily, but then her shoulders untense as she lets out a deep breath.
“Okay.” Her voice is equally quiet and soft.
My hands finally make contact with the soft skin on her arms, my fingers wrapping around them to lift them into position. One of my arms snakes around her, my hand splaying across her middle. She sucks in a sharp breath and lowers my touch to her stomach.
“Not up there. I’m sore,” she says, not giving me any other information, but I also don’t press.
This is too intimate a moment, and I don’t want to ruin it.
“Down here it is,” I reply softly.
Everywhere her body touches mine suddenly comes to life. My heart starts fluttering. My skin lights on fire. My muscles tense with anticipation. I’ve never touched Cata this way, she’s never allowed me, and my entire being seems only too happy that she and I are finally this close. Even if it’s only for a moment.
“Alright, lift your arms like you’re doing your serve,” I instruct, and, to my surprise, she puts her racket to the side before doing as I’ve asked. I’d have expected she would hit me with it the first chance she got.
Instead, she lifts her arms and fixes her stance, about to serve with neither a ball nor a racket. Only me holding onto her. We go through the motion and right as she leans back, I press my chest to her back to stop her, using the hand on her stomach to steady her.
“See, right here. This is where you lose so much of your speed and put everything on your back. Let your arms do more work,” I say and guide her into the proper stance. “Try it again.”
We do the same movement for the serve once more, this time with me giving her space, watching her do it from a distance. I adjust her stance twice more, and then she picks up her racket to try it with a ball this time. She does wonderfully, her serve fast and precise.
“That’s it,mariquita, good girl,” I praise her, watching her cheeks turn pink from the words.
“That’s enough for today,” she says, picking up the balls closest to her and then rushing over to her bag.
“Dammit,” I mumble to myself, letting my head fall backward.
I really don’t know how to talk to Cata without saying something that ruins the moment.
Chapter 9
Catalina
HavingSantiagoCastillo’shandson me yesterday had me feeling things I never, ever want to feel for him again.
And yet, I can’t stop thinking about the way he felt pressed against me. The feeling of his quick heartbeat against my back. His hot breath ghosting the sensitive skin on my ear. His hand on my stomach, steadying me, guiding me. The words falling from his lips, the way he praised me.
I hate him so much.
For our past and what he’s doing to me now.
For how good it felt to have his strong arms around me.
“Catalina, are you still listening?” my sister, Ori, says.
She’s the eldest out of all our siblings and the smartest Sanchez to ever walk the Earth. She’s studying environmental science, trying to further research in renewable energies and, to summarize, save the fucking planet.
“Yes, sorry. You were telling me about the presentation you can’t finish because…” I trail off, hoping she’ll jump in and finish the sentence because I definitely zoned out.
