Page 36 of A Follow-Through in Faking
“How thoughtful. Is our next stop a session of kickboxing so I refrain from kicking you, too?” His mouth stretches into one of his easy-going smiles, but he doesn’t respond as he takes a bite of his Eggs Benedict.
“Eat,mariquita. We’ve got a long day ahead of us,” he says, gesturing toward my matching eggs benedict.
I ordered first, and the jerk copied me.
“Of course,mi corazón,” I reply through gritted teeth and a fake smile. That only makes him chuckle.
Santiago doesn’t stop talking the whole time we’re eating. He tells me about his matches and his strategy, and I listen even when I tell myself not to. What he’s saying is interesting, and it’s giving me ideas for my own strategy for my match the day after tomorrow. I curse him as I ask more questions, keeping the conversation going. I don’t want to enjoy talking to Santiago. The silence that usually sat between us was much more comfortable than this awful feeling in my chest every time I realize how…nicethis feels.
“Are you finished eating?” he eventually asks, leaning back in his seat.
I really do hate him for how effortlessly gorgeous he is. His brown hair is perfectly fluffy and styled, his amber eyes are practically sparkling with happiness, and his chiseled features and full, plump lips have me even more drawn to his face.
“Yes,” I finally manage to reply when I remember he asked me a question. My face heats in embarrassment, but for once, Santi is kind enough not to point it out and make me even more aware of how painfully attracted I’ve always been to him.
“I have an exciting day planned, but if at any point, it gets too much for you, we can stop and do something else,” he promises, leaning forward again to rummage around in the backpack he brought.
“You’re scaring me, Santiago,” I say with a breathless laugh because, while I’m not scared, Iamnervous.
He doesn’t say anything else, merely slides an envelope toward me.
On the back of it, it says, “Catalina’s 24th Birthday Scavenger Hunt.”
I deflate in my seat, sinking into it as tears shoot into my eyes. Every single birthday with my mother replays itself in myhead, until my heart is crying, forcing more tears into my eyes. It isn't necessarily in a bad way. It’s nostalgic, and while that is a bittersweet feeling in itself, I don’t hate it. It makes me feel a little closer to the woman I loved with my whole heart and have been missing for so long.
“Hate it?” Santi asks softly, and I notice one of his hands has reached across the table in an offering. If I want his comfort, he will give it to me. If I don’t want it, at least it’ll be there in case I change my mind.
“Not even a little,” I admit, placing the letter on my chest and taking a deep breath to fight back the tears.
“It’s probably not as good as Doralis’ scavenger hunts used to be, but I did my best.”
His hand is still there, between us, and maybe it’s because I miss Mamá so much. Maybe it’s because he did something so wonderful for me, something I’ve been missing since she passed away. But I reach out and lace my fingers through his, letting his rough, callused hand spread warmth through my very system. Playing as much tennis as we do, it’s difficult not to have rough hands. To have calluses at the top of our palms. I used to be so insecure about it, but Santi makes me feel a little less alone that way.
He makes me feel less alone in many ways.
“Thank you for this, Santiago,” I manage to croak out, and he gives me a comforting smile.
“You’re welcome, Catalina.”
He urges me to open the letter for my first clue, and I can’t help but smile as I do. He chose a paper with sea turtles painted along the borders, and I feel my stomach tumble all over again because he remembers.
He met my mamá once, but he remembers what she used to say because I told him one time when we were still kids.
On the paper inside, he wrote:
I’m colorful and come in various shapes, sizes, and forms. I’m happiest when the sun finds me and when I get to drink lots of water. You can find me in a special place where people stroll past me all day, admiring me.
It’s an easy enough clue, but I don’t mind. I like that the first one is easy because I know the next ones might get harder.
“Give me your keys. I’m driving,” I say and hold out my hand. Santi doesn’t waste a second to place it in the palm of my hand, smiling when he realizes I’ve already figured out where we have to go for the first clue.
We drive to the Royal Botanic Gardens Victoria here in Melbourne, and I jump giddily in my spot when Santiago tells me to find the second clue, we will have to go explore the gardens. I’ve always loved being in nature, and this is a perfect way to spend my birthday.
I find myself inching just a little closer to Santi without meaning to, simply because it feels right. When he notices, he takes my hand without commenting, and I tell myself it’s because we might be surrounded by people who will recognize us or photograph us.
Not because he wants to hold my hand.
The best way I can describe parts of the botanical gardens is as a jungle you can easily walk through, with paths made by peoplefor people. I admire all of the different types of plants and trees, studying the flowers even more closely.
