Page 56 of Sombra
“Oh, is that right? Since you bring up kicking my ass, guapa, maybe you’d enjoy a good spanking.” The words slip out, and I hold back a curse, because I’d like nothing more.
Her hand touches her throat.She swallows and says in a husky voice, “Maybe I would.”
I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out. We stare at each other. The electricity that dropped since we first met is zinging around again, bouncing from her to me and back again, making my arms tingle.
She chews her lip and averts her eyes, casting around for something else. Her shoulders perk up. “There theyare.” She runs down the hall toward Trent and Dani, leaving me admiring her great culo.
What the hell is going on?
I know there’s something between us that we’re fighting, but I can’t keep living like this—the tension will make me explode.
It’s how it’s been all week—her drawing away, and me wanting to get closer. An example? We’ve met up with Trent and Dani at Bar Maruecotwice this week to practice translation. But she doesn’t sit by me like that first night. Instead, she sits next to Dani, talking nonstop about Spain and travels and all sorts of things. I drive her home in silence.
It’s only fair. I have no claim to her. I need to fix this pain. Even if I can’t touch her, I still want to get to know her, because the silent treatment isn’t working for me.
So maybe it’s friends. We can be friends.
I catch up with her, determined to keep her talking with me.
“How are classes?” Dani asks both of us. At school, Trent stands a respectful distance away from her, acknowledging that she’s a professor. But their synchronized body language tells anyone with a brain who is paying attention that they’re in love. He mimics her actions, andshe does it right back. There’s a dance of their movements showing how in tune they are with each other.
Watching someone in love when you’re in pain sucks.
“I just told Tavo I’d kick his butt, but truthfully, it’s harder than I thought, learning a language,” Kim says. “Although I knew it wouldn’t be like class, I mean I had four years of it. You’d think I’d be able to speak it better,but I can’t. I don’t even pick out words in ordinary conversation. It’s frustrating.”
Trent nods. “Right? And the Spanish here has such a strong accent. It takes a while to get the hang of it. You need to practice more ordinary conversation.” He points to me. “Tavo can help you. He helped me a lot.”
“You’ve gotten a lot better,” I acknowledge.
“And you couldn’t say much inEnglish either.”
“True.” I turn to Kim. “I’m willing to help, you know. To practice.”
It will be no sacrifice to spend more time with her—except I may be sacrificing my heart.
Her chin tips up. “I’d like that.”
“Then that’s the plan.” Against my better judgment.
“Thanks for takingthe time to help me.” Kim tucks her feet under her on the couch and watches me with those clear, expressive eyes. Ones that have become sadder since she’s been here. While that verve that underlies her spirit is still there, it’s been tamped down.
Maybe I can help to get it back.
“Es nada.” I wave my hand. If only she knew how much it meansto me to be anywhere near her. But I keep my feelings in check so she won’t feel uncomfortable.
She pulls at her blouse and arranges the legs of her shorts. “I’m so lost. Not knowing the language, I mean.”
“We can’t have you lost.” I grab the remote. I don’t know if I should go next to her or not, so I compromise by sitting on the floor, leaning my back against the couch close toher legs. “Entonces vamos a practicar.”
“You’re right. Practice makes perfect.” Her knee bounces near my head. “I guess part of doing something new is being bad at it at first. I’m used to already knowing how to do things.”
My hands go behind my head, and I resist stilling that knee with my palm. “Then let’s get you into the unknown. Let’s let you be bad at something for once. That’sthe only way to get better.”
“It’s just frustrating. I want to download the entire Spanish language into my brain. Learning curves suck. I’m impatient, I guess.”
I twist my torso to gaze at her. She’s yanking at her hair in clumps. “So you want the end result, not the journey.”
Her hands still and clasp loosely in her lap. “No,” she says quietly. “I want the journey.”
