Page 22 of A Follow-Through in Faking
We make our way through security without anyone recognizing us, or, if they do, they don’t approach us. I got us VIP tickets, so we get to go through first. Crowds make me uncomfortable, so I always make sure there are no lines I have to stand in. Cata heads for the merchandise table without waiting for me to put my wallet and phone back into my pocket. I catch up to her with a groan, grabbing her hand once I’m beside her again.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asks, attempting to snatch her hand back, but I hold on as I smile down at her.
“What do you mean,cariño?” I ask, still faking a smile at her. She rolls her eyes at me.
“Just because we’redating—” She breaks off to shudder visibly. “—doesn’t mean we have to touch all the time.” Her blue eyes give me a challenging look.
“You’re supposed to be in love with me. Do you remember how you treated your ex-girlfriend when you were in love?” They couldn’t stop touching. Everywhere they went, cameras caught their adorable PDA moments.
And I definitely wasn’t jealous.
“Fine, you’ve got a point.”
Cata drags me toward the merchandise table, her brown hair perfectly bouncing because of the sway in her step. As soon as we’re in front of the person selling the shirts, hats, tote bags, and posters, Cata leans into me. I instinctively place my hand on thesmall of her back to bring her closer while she studies the merch and gasps loudly.
“You want to buy me one of each because Isabella Ada is one of my favorite artists? You’re the best,mi corazón,” Cata announces to everyone at the stand, pressing a soft kiss to my jaw a moment later.
I grind my molars together, both because I can’t believe what she pulled but also because she kissed me and it’s muddling my brain.
“Of course, my ray of sunshine. It’s my pleasure,” I say through gritted teeth, faking a smile at the salesperson. “One of everything in a medium size, please.”
Cata’s hand pulses on my shirt as she attempts to step away, but I push her toward me by the small of her back, cupping her chin with my other hand. Her breath hitches as I grin down at her, loving the way her skin flushes pink at our proximity.
“I’m a millionaire, Cata. This may annoy me, but if your intention was to hurt my bank account, you’re going to have to try harder than that.” A defiant glimmer enters her eye, and it only makes me smirk harder.
“I didn’t want to hurt your bank account. I wanted to annoy you, so I’m glad it worked.” Both of us are keeping our voices low, speaking so close together, to any outsider it would look like an intimate conversation.
If only they knew.
“Bruja,” I whisper, leaning in so our mouths almost touch. Cata doesn’t lean away, even though the grip I have on her chin is as light as a feather.
“Cabrón.” Her lips almost touch mine as they form the word, and I get a little weak in the knees thinking about what it would feel like to kiss her. “Santi,” Cata breathes out, making a shiver of pleasure run down my spine.
“Yeah?” I croak out, still watching her mouth.
“What are you doing?” She’s still not moving away, and I almost give in. But it wouldn’t be right, not while she doesn’t want my lips on hers.
“Might change my mind about the no-kissing rule,” I admit, caressing the small of her back until she melts into my touch.
“Why?”
“I want to know if it would make you hate me less.” Kind of. Mostly, I want to know what Catalina tastes like. I always have.
“Then kiss me and find out,” she challenges, knowing full well I would never.
Not while she looks at me like she wants to kill me.
“Here you go, one of everything in a medium as well as the tote bag and cap,” the salesperson says, interrupting our moment.
Cata smirks as she steps away, grabbing the bags handed to her while I pay the outrageous sum. I refrain from rolling my eyes as we make our way to our front row seats.
There’s a little skip in her step when she sees how close we are, and I smile at her happiness.
Ever since her mom passed away about ten years ago, Catalina has lost a bit of the joy she used to carry around like a second skin. It broke something inside of me when I first noticed the change in her, something that hasn’t been repaired since. But, right now, as she spins on the spot because one of her favorite songs is playing over the speakers, I feel that part of me getting its first stitch in years.
All because I brought her here.
“Come on, Santi,” she says, and I realize I’ve been standing in the same spot, watching her, for longer than I should.
