Page 13 of A Follow-Through in Faking
“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, already halting my movements.
“No.” It’s all the reassurance I need to keep going.
Cata watches my finger as it traces circles on the exposed skin by her ankle, not saying a thing. Slowly, so painfully slowly, I trail it up her thigh, up the side of her upper body, up her arm, before finally bringing it to her face. I wait for permission before I touch her there. She gives me a strained nod, her eyes locked on mine as I cup her cheek. She juts out her chin like she’s about to protest, to argue with me, but when I caress her cheek, rubmy thumb over her cheekbone, her eyes flutter shut like she’s enjoying the sensation as much as I’m enjoying touching her.
Physical touch has always been my favorite way to express my feelings because I’m not good at voicing them.
As a matter of fact, I often say things and mean the complete opposite.
Her breathing hitches again, this time harder. Her chest rises and falls so quickly, the urge to run my thumb over the pulse point on her neck is too strong to ignore. I bring my hand from her cheek to her neck, pressing my index finger on it to feel how quickly Cata’s heart races for me.
“Will we kiss in public?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper now.
Catalina’s eyes open halfway to focus on my lips. She’s only ever looked at me like this once when we were sixteen. It was the night I almost kissed her, a time I’ve done everything I could to forget.
“Is that a rule you’d like to establish?” she replies, and all I see is a red light flashing, telling me to slow down, to stop this immediately.
“No,” I say and stand up, letting go of her completely to grab the bowls that our dessert—a fruit salad because that’s all our coaches will allow us to have this close to the start of the season—was in earlier.
“Do you think people will believe we’re dating if we don’t kiss?” she challenges, crossing her arms in front of her chest again.
“I’ll take the risk.”
I can’t kiss her. I don’t want to find out what happens to me, to my traitor of a body, when I get my first taste of Catalina Rivera Sanchez.
“You’re the one who started touching me, but now you can’t kiss me? Where is the logic, Santiago?” she asks, cocking bothof her brows in challenge. I press my tongue against the back of my teeth, thinking about what the fuck to say to that when she’s absolutely right.
“Doyouwant to kissme?” I ask, turning it back on her, hoping she’ll drop this conversation.
“I’d rather stick my tongue into a burning hot coffee.”
“Want me to make you a cup,cariño?” I offer, grinning at her before carrying our bowls into the kitchen and giving myself a second to breathe.
It’s always so damn hard to breathe around Cata. Like my body forgets it needs the oxygen because my eyes are too busy drinking her in to remember.
“So, no kissing. What about romantic gestures? You should do at least a few publicly,” she says, following me into the kitchen.
“I’ll do some if you do some,” I reply, placing the bowls in the dishwasher.
“Do you consider dropping a poisonous spider down your pants a romantic gesture?” she asks, dead serious as always, but I burst out laughing at her question.
“Not particularly. Do you consider throwing you into a bush of poison ivy romantic?”
“Not particularly,” she says, lowering her voice to mock me.
“Then we should probably stay away from romantic gestures.” I wash my hands before turning to her again, her brown locks all over the place because she just took her hair out of its braid. Her heart-shaped lips are downturned into a frown, and her eyes are full of hate directed toward me.
And yet, I still think she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.
I ever will see.
“This rule thing is stupid. Can we take things as they come?” she asks, picking at a loose thread on her sweater.
“But then how do we know each other’s boundaries?”
She thinks about my question for a moment, shifting her weight from one foot to the other without saying a word.
“Well, the most important thing we established is no kissing. It’s not like we have to write down ‘do not fall in love with each other’ or some ridiculous shit like that,” she says, snorting at her own comment.
