Page 54 of A Follow-Through in Faking
Mostly because my heart usually cries for her at the sight of it.
“I got this for my mamá.” She says the words as she picks up my hand to bring it to her tattoo, inviting me to trace it. Cata lets go of my wrist before I make contact, allowing me to make the decision whether to touch her.
Of course I do.
There is a sea turtle painted onto her skin from the top of her cleavage all the way under her breasts where its body extends. It’s shaded in some areas, lines in others, and completely black in the rest. The words, “La vida de una tortuga marina es una vida libre” are written beneath it, to the left of her chest, and I trail my fingers over the words too, remembering Cata telling me her mom used to say this.
“I feel closer to her again through this, which may be silly, but—” I have to cut her off, have to reassure her.
“It’s not silly. This is beautiful. I think your mamá would have loved this intricate design,” I say, still studying it. “Why would you share this with me if you haven’t shared it with anyone else?” I can’t quite make myself drop my hand, so I run it down her stomach, toward the three butterflies she got tattooed above her hip bone.
“One for each of my siblings,” she explains before adding, “I told you because we have to start somewhere. Don’t make me regret this, okay?” she says, and I look back up into her blue eyes.
“I won’t. This will stay between us.” It’s a promise I’m going to use everything I have to keep. “Can I kiss you? Not on the lips, somewhere else,” I explain, and when she seems to hold her breath, I hold mine.
“Where?” she asks, but she isn’t pulling back.
She stays in place as I lower myself until my mouth hovers over her tattoo. I bring my gaze back to hers, tilting my head to look up at her.
“Here,” I whisper, my voice soft enough to almost get lost in the sounds around us.
A single nod is all the permission I need before pressing a soft kiss to the middle of the sea turtle.
It takes all of my willpower to stop there, not to keep going, kissing every single centimeter of her body.
“I won’t tell a soul.” Cata steps back, finally bringing a smile to her lips.
“We’ll see. But if you manage to keep your mouth shut, maybe I’ll let you kiss me somewhere even lower next time.”
I always knew Cata would kill me, but I didn’t think it would be this way.
Dying because of how much I want her.
Chapter 23
Santiago
Adaybeforemyfinal in the Argentinian Open, Catalina left for her tournament in Dubai. She won it a few days after I lost the Argentinian Open, but I couldn’t be with her because directly after that tournament, I flew to Rio for the next one. She came afterward to join me, sitting in my box, as promised, for the final.
Perhaps it’s superstition—I’m an athlete after all, it’s practically part of the job description to have some superstitions—but whenever she’s around, I seem to win tournaments. When she’s not, I lose them. It’s pure coincidence, rationally I know that, but I’d much rather believe Catalina truly is my lucky charm.
Mi mariquita.
We haven’t spent any alone time together because we’ve been apart for the past couple of weeks, but for the next two tournaments, theIndian Wells OpenandMiami Open, Cata andI will be together the whole time. We’re both taking part in them, which means I can finally take her on another date either before or in between the tournaments.
Depends on when she’s available and if she wants to see me.
Fuck, I hope she wants to see me.
“I swear, this whole relationship thing is a fucking joke,” Manu says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“What happened?” I ask, surprised by her willingness to speak to me at the moment something is frustrating her instead of keeping it all down until she’s figured out what’s wrong and how she’s feeling exactly.
“I don’t know. Ever since we broke up, Madalena has been texting me, sending me all of these sad videos. I don’t even understand why she’s still texting me. She’s the one who broke up withme, not the other way around,” she explains, flopping down on the bed in her hotel room. She’s also in California for the tournament, playing doubles with her partner Alessandra.
“Maybe she regrets it?” I ask, but in truth, I have no fucking clue why people do what they do in relationships. I don’t even know why I’m acting the way I am at the moment, and my relationship is fake.
“Whatever. It’s time I finally block her anyway. She doesn’t deserve another second of my time.”
