Page 23 of Liar
Truth is, I don’t know Eduardo all that well. He’s quiet, a considerate dance partner, someone who blends in well in a crowd, and aside from dancing, doesn’t like to stand out. They say don’t judge a man’s character by his looks but by his actions. And Eduardo has been nothing but sweet.
I sigh. “Why are you really here? To schedule extra practice time? Talk about choreography that will win over the judges?”
He swallows hard.
“Don’t hold me in suspense. Spill the beans.”
He draws himself up straight. “Would you like to go to the movies with me?”
I lay the shirt I’m still holding on top of the neatly stacked pile ofhisclothing. “A movie?”
“Yes.”
He shifts back and forth on his feet, nervous like my answer matters.
I shrug. “On two conditions.” Getting to know him better can’t hurt. Friends off stage can only translate into a better performance onstage. “First, is Saturday night okay?”
“Yes. And?”
An awkwardness fills the air between us. So unlike the spark and sizzle I always feel withhim.
He, who wants nothing to do with me.
He, who is responsible for upending my life.
“And I get to pick the movie.”
Eduardo’s face lights up. Let’s see how long it lasts when he discovers I’ve dragged him to see a Diego Luna chick flick.
* * *
Any movie with the sexy Mexican actor is worth seeing, and this one had Eduardo and I both laughing.
It’s dark when we leave the theater. The streets are quiet after the busy dinner rush. Local businesses are prospering as more people are dining out. It’s like this all over town. Safe to eat out—even safe to walk on newly-cemented sidewalks. The entire town is coming back to life, a sight that warms my heart. Eduardo and I walk side by side, joking and sharing funny anecdotes with each other. The night couldn’t be better.
“Are you cold, Luciana?”
He brought a sweater to the theater “in case the air-conditioning bothers you.” Now he’s offering me that same sweater.
I wave him off. “No, thank you.” The night is unseasonably warm due to an early heat wave. I’ve worn a sleeveless yellow dress, more for comfort than to impress him.
“Think we’re ready?” he asks.
“A few additional practice sessions to perfect the middle sequence, and I’ll feel better about our routine.” He looks disappointed with my answer. Winning this competition means everything, he knows that. “We’re good together, Eduardo. Don’t you think?”
“There’s no better couple.” He gives me puppy-dog eyes, and I’m suddenly feeling uncomfortable.
I quickly redirect our conversation. “What’s your backup plan? Did you apply to college?” I asked him this same question once before, but for whatever reason, don’t recall him answering it.
“It depends on what my uncle wants.”
I stop walking. “I thought you live alone with your aunt?”
“Her brother pays all the bills. Now, he’s pressuring me to join his business.”
“Sounds like a bully.”
Eduardo snorts. “You don’t know the half of it.”
