Chapter Fourteen #2
Gently pushing away from Alex, I bobbed my head, ignoring how it exacerbated my dizziness. “Yeah, that’s me. Sorry,” I added, a flush sweeping up my neck and over my cheeks.
Stepping away, I smoothed my hands down my thighs, greedily sucking air into my lungs. On shaky legs I walked to the car, reaching for the door handle before Alex pushed my hand away. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes, instead focusing my gaze on his throat, where his Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Thanks again for coming, Sofia,” he murmured, holding open the door for me.
I climbed inside, gripping my bag in my lap with trembling hands. “It was a lot of fun.”
The breathy note in my voice made me cringe.
Alex shut the door without a word, and the Lyft driver pulled away from the curb. Before we turned to enter into traffic, I glanced back to see Alex standing where I left him, his hands in his pockets, a dark silhouette cast against the night sky.
—
Almost three weeks passed until I heard from Alex again.
Actually, that wasn’t true. Alex had reached out, but I hadn’t returned his texts.
Or his voice messages. And to my great shame, I hadn’t responded to the comments he left on my new videos, either.
While the Scorpions had gone on to win their series against the Pumas, they had lost in the semifinals, and I had been so disappointed for Natasha, Megan, and the rest of the players.
But, of course, I saved most of my heavy heart for Alex.
I watched every game at home, by myself, even though he extended invitations to more games, but I just couldn’t do it.
Instead, I tuned in with a fervent hope that when the camera swept over the crowd, I would get a glimpse of him.
I never did. Neither did the Scorpions’ social media post any more videos featuring Alex, and I was relieved.
The more time that passed without us talking, the harder it was for me to reach out, and regret and embarrassment churned in my stomach anytime I thought of him.
But I did manage to see Denise. Once her grueling work project was complete, we met for happy hour drinks and she was now due at my house for the dinner I had promised her.
Yellow rice sat in a pot on the back of the stove while red beans simmered softly in another olla.
I wouldn’t fry the pork chops until she arrived because they wouldn’t take long, so they waited, seasoned and prepared, under a paper towel on the countertop.
Several bottles of rum were arranged on the peninsula, and Coke, pineapple juice, and other mixers chilled in the refrigerator, ready for whatever Denise was in the mood for.
To complete the ambiance, an eclectic selection of Caribbean music played through my Bluetooth speaker, and I swished my hips to the beat as I moved about the kitchen.
At the sound of my doorbell, I answered the door with a smile, pulling my friend into a firm embrace as soon as she stepped over the threshold.
“You act like I just returned from war, when we just got drinks last week,” she said, making a scoffing noise in the back of her throat.
“Well, now I’m sorry for being happy to see you.” I lifted my chin as I spun away and walked toward the kitchen without glancing back at her.
But Denise’s soft laugh followed after me. As I reached for a glass, she whistled behind me. “Wow, it smells delicious. Why don’t you cook for us more often?”
I scowled. “I would if you cooked, too. Then we could take turns because I don’t always want to be in the kitchen.”
Denise grabbed the glass I extended to her and used the fridge dispenser to fill it with ice.
With the ease of someone who had visited my house a plethora of times and knew what I usually stocked, she opened the refrigerator and grabbed the jugs of pineapple juice and orange juice.
Plopping them on the counter, she proceeded to prepare a pineapple and Malibu with a splash of orange juice.
Raising it to her lips, she took a sip and then sighed loudly.
“I’m glad I’m here,” she said, perching on a stool at the peninsula.
“I’m glad you’re here, too.” I tapped my glass of wine against her glass. “Salud.”
We exchanged idle chitchat for the next half hour or so while I fried the pork chops.
I told her about the Scorpions game, mentioning the viral video but not my and Alex’s almost kiss.
After loading it on my phone, Denise watched Alex lip-sync at least five times, cackling as she did.
We also discussed homecoming and the warm reception Caitlin had received from her talk.
Denise had accompanied me to several homecomings and knew my parents, so she was particularly regretful to have missed spending the evening with them.
“Did your mom make pernil?” she asked, propping her chin in her hands.
I nodded forlornly. “I would have brought you leftovers, but there were none.”
“Oof.” Denise clutched a hand to her heart. “It must have been amazing. Did Alex like it?”
At the mention of Alex’s name, a smile spread over my lips. “Mamí served him two giant servings, and he wiped his plate clean, so I’d say yes.”
“So he’s the reason there were no leftovers for me,” she grumbled. Her expression turned contemplative. “So how were he and Caitlin together? I can’t imagine it’s easy being in a long-distance relationship.”
And my smile died a quick death. “Good, I suppose.”
Denise frowned. “Just ‘good’?”
“I mean, I don’t know.” I grabbed an empty plate and arranged a pork chop with rice and beans, fanning avocado slices on the side. “They’re respectful of each other, but they’re not overly affectionate.”
“Who wants to be affectionate in front of others, though?” She wrinkled her nose as she sank into a chair at the table. “I know I don’t.”
“And I certainly don’t need to see them being all lovey-dovey with each other.” I placed the plate before Denise. “There just seems to be a good amount of easy rapport between them.”
“The dream.” Denise raised her glass as if toasting the idea. “Relationships shouldn’t be hard, yet so often we make them that way.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I mumbled. Sitting in the chair across from Denise, I studied my plate rather than meet her gaze. “I have zero interest in dating right now. It seems like so much more trouble than it’s worth.”
“Same,” Denise declared, grasping her knife and fork and cutting into her pork chop. “Especially because I’d rather spend time with good friends who make me delicious meals.”
The meal was delicious, I admitted without conceit.
Pork could so often turn dry if not prepared and cooked correctly, but the chops were moist and flavorful and went perfectly with the rice and beans.
It was a very Puerto Rican spread, and I suspect that’s why Denise and I consumed every bite with relish.
After we were done with our meals, Denise helped me put the leftovers away and place the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. With fresh drinks, we settled in the living room, where we watched an episode of a reality dating show Denise was a fan of.
“You know,” she started as the end credits rolled across the screen, “as jaded as I am by the dating scene, I don’t think I’m completely over it. I’d still like to find someone to grab coffee with on Saturday mornings or cuddle with on the sofa and watch trashy reality TV.”
“Hey, bitch, I offered to cuddle with you and you turned me down,” I said, tossing a pillow at her.
Denise’s peal of laughter made me laugh in turn. “It’s hard to get comfortable cuddling with you because you have bony elbows.”
“Everyone has bony elbows.”
“You know what I mean.” My friend dropped her head to the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “I just think I’m still willing to try. Jaded but not hopeless, you know?”
I didn’t know. Because if I were honest with myself, I had been battling hopelessness since Alex walked into that restaurant with Caitlin.
Something must have shown on my face because Denise clicked her tongue, and I darted my gaze to her, finding her watching me. “What’s that look for?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” I took a sip of wine for want of something to do.
“Yeah, you do. It’s your emotionally constipated face.”
My head whipped toward her so fast I felt dizzy. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”