Page 48 of Yours, For Now

He smirked. "I see. That's the story you'll tell after the break up."

"Yep. Your reputation can take it, right?"

"Can it take that I wanted you so badly I took any crumbs you gave me, and accepted it quietly when you broke up with me?"

Instead of replying I smiled at him and lifted an eyebrow.

"Querida mía," he said. "That would be completely on brand for me."

I laughed in delight and let him spin me; my skirt swirled around me. When I came back to him, he held me tight again.

"When you laugh like that…" he sighed. "I can't fall for you, Lina."

I didn't respond right away. Perhaps because of the dancing, or maybe it had been his words— definitely the words— but tingling took root in my ribcage and cascaded down into my belly. My insides turned to jelly as we gazed at each other, eyes holding the connection as intensely as his hand on my back.

"We won't fall for each other," I finally said. As close to an admission as I could manage.

The white fabric of the tent changed colors, the light projectors creating bright shapes against it. The music continued its beat and, if it weren't for the fast rhythm of our movements, I could have pretended we were slow dancing.

He broke the connection of our eyes to glance around the room. "It's easy to get confused, with so much making it real. I'm sure there's a part deep in our brains that can't tell the difference."

"I think we'll be okay. We're both strong-willed. It would take more than a couple of months to get over being stubborn, when we already made a decision. When we already have an agreement."

"You're probably right."

His words were barely audible beneath the music.

We danced away the rest of the party, until we could leave without much notice or suspicion. He dropped me off at home, saying goodnight with a simple kiss on my cheek.

In my room, I took two tissues, a book, and a few heavy objects. I pressed the flower he'd put in my hair between one of my favorite book's pages, because even if I didn't plan to fall in love with Gabriel Sotomayor, something told me I would want to remember this night.

Chapter 15

Theweddingquicklybecamea small parenthesis in my life. Although I knew it had happened, and I had a drying flower as evidence, it seemed like an event from another life. Gabe and I returned to the pattern we'd established at the start, pretending to date but working together instead. A good month into this arrangement between us.

While my parents imagined we'd gone out somewhere, we diligently tackled our tasks in his office. We focused on the contract between our companies; we were on a deadline, as this draft would be presented as a part of our shortlist application. We drank coffee on the sofa facing his desk, papers in different piles around us, as we reviewed the paperwork we'd submit to the stadium project leads. We both worked on our own laptops, but we worked on the same document.

"Do you see anything you want to change? Last call." I studied him. He had a thoughtful and focused wrinkle between his eyebrows, his gaze running through the screen.

One of his feet rested on the coffee table, his bent leg helping to position the laptop at the right angle. His other leg shook. We'd both loosened up our working attires; he'd gotten rid of his jacket and tie, his top button open, and I'd taken off my heels and belt.

His shoulders looked wide in the shirt he wore, his hair messy from running his fingers through it. My fingers tingled with the desire to do the same; I could almost imagine what its texture would be like against my skin.

"I think it's done." He sighed and rubbed his lips together. I bit mine. He looked so hot, focused like this. He lifted his eyes, and that same focus directed atmebrought a wave of awareness into my lower belly. "Do you like it?"

"Uh?"

"Do you think it's ready?"

I had decided that it was done a few minutes ago, allowing me the dangerous reverie, but I drew myself back into work.

"Yes. It's ready. We don't have time to let it rest for a few days before reading it again, but that's why we're asking your dad to read it."

"Okay, I'm printing it. My dad still prefers paper." He clicked a few times on the screen, and soon the quiet sound of a printer reached me from nearby.

Gabe stretched, arms long and thick above his head. He released the movement with a groan.

"I guess we're done with work for the night?" I asked, the vision of his chest widening in front of me still a mirage in my mind.