by Amber Burns
“What if I don’t come?”
“Are you still sick?” is my first question. I know she’s recovered from the severe cold that required she take antibiotics a week ago.
“No.”
“You’re definitely coming then.” I’m firm. There’s going to be no arguments about this one, and if Astra tries she’ll lose out. There’s no way I’m doing this alone now that I met her and we’ve got all this...baggage.
“What’s with that face?” I lean back. “You’re still on the fence? I guess I’ll just have to convince you to come.”
And before she’s got the ‘how’ fully formed, I drag my hand between us, over her smooth, fleshier belly to cover her clit. At my slow rubbing the whites in her eye grow and her mouth opens on an “oh”.
She shivers from my touch and that gives me a power like no other. Knowing I can strum and pluck her like my guitar and yet so unlike my guitar – I’m heady at the thought alone.
In the short breath I space out, Astra slips her hand from my chest to wrap my thick shaft.
She strokes once, a quick up-down that briefly squeezes my eyes close, reminding me how easily she can string me up, and with a sultry smile reserved only for me, forever for me, she says, “I think I can be convinced.”
Chapter 10
I’d need more than my fingers to count the times I’ve been uncomfortable, but this situation definitely eclipses standing in front of an audience waiting to be blown away, reciting a speech for the Grammys, or being interviewed on SNL.
It ties in close with telling Astra I love her.
Yeah. I came to terms with that.
It’s got to be love…
Or something damn close to it, because my heart leaps out of my chest at the sight of her throughout the night and I’m finding it hard to sit still and not touch her.
It doesn’t help she’s looking particularly glamourous tonight. Astra’s enchanting red hair is twisted into a braid, but soft tendrils frame her round, rosy cheeks. Her glossy pink lips part to answer something our guests are saying, and unlike me she’s more riveted by the table talk.
We found her dress in the end, and she’s wearing that gold, sequined sheath dress like nobody else’s business – whatever the fuck that means.
My mind’s a mess having her so near, yet still far considering I can’t exactly clear the table of everything and throw her over to give her the screw of her life.
I’m itching for more of her gentle touches under the dinner table. I’m on pins and needles and it fucking hurts.
The last thing I need is a freak panic episode in the middle of Le Durendal, the French bistro in Newark that Custodio lauds time and time again. When Astra discreetly squeezes my thigh and turns her smile in my direction, I decide I might as well concentrate now and then pit stop for a quickie on the way to her place.
I expected this go...to go, honestly. By the time Astra and I arrived together we’d closed off our little group. At least I hadn’t had to introduce her as my dinner date twice, to Custodio and TzaTza and the Campos daughter-father pair.
Awkward hadn’t summed it up. I could see Custodio’s business plan come crashing down and sense disappointment...maybe interest from the Campos who’d been hinted a marital union. All eyes were on me in those first few minutes, but in the end Astra was the star of the show.
“I haven’t been to Spain, but I’d travelled through southern parts of England, Switzerland, Italy and Germany as far as Europe is concerned.” Astra turns back to the midst of her wanderlust topic with Campo senior.
No younger than Custodio, the latter who pushing his mid-sixties, Campo has his knife and fork still over his pasta al dente as he chuckles through a humorous anecdote of travel perils.
“It’s so refreshing to see young people out and about,” he says, turning to the waifish, dark-haired, olive-skinned woman beside him. “My Katherina is not so enticed by the sweeter airs outside her city.”
Katherina Campo is as Custodio described her; poised and pretty, I’d give her a ten out of ten, but then I’d have to break that maximum for Astra – my girl’s a cool eleven.
So far I get bitchy ice queen diva from Campo’s daughter; she hasn’t said a word past the ‘hello’ when Astra and I joined the table. I figure she had been actually looking forward to the messed up arrangement.
Can I blame her for feeling the butt of a cruel joke? Not entirely. But Custodio should be the one strung up by his black tie, not me – I never had any plans to take this lying down. Thank God for Astra’s good heart, otherwise I wouldn’t know what I’d do to dodge the set-up.
“It’s a journey from the Bronx to Manhattan to the Island, padre, and in one night I can meet half of the world if I introduce myself and talk to strangers.” Katherina blinks her large, dark eyes through the Lopezes’ polite laughter.
My lips twist up at her wry comment. Our eyes lock briefly and she shows the first emotion of the evening, a small smile.
“Senor McBride, your plan is to return to Los Angeles after this?” Campo asks, turning the tables on me. Ignoring Custodio’s glare, he’s been keeping that up all evening, I lean forward to answer the question.
“That’s my hope, yes.” I say. “Give my dear goddaughter a sweet sixteenth to rival that reality TV show.”
Katherina has to explain what I mean before Campo shakes his slicked dark hair in understanding.
“And will you be travelling with him?” he asks of Astra. She lowers her wrists, holding her fork and knife into the bit of smoked fish on her plate. I am ready to leap in and rescue her, but her smile eases the friction caused – not by the question alone, but by her would-be answer.
By the reality that I’m going to have to stare in the face in two more days, the time left until Lola’s birthday party.
“No, unfortunately,” she resumes slicing through her fish, her long lashes lowered over the task, voice drifting about the quartet playing in the far corner of the section over. “I have commitments here. Still with technology today, long distances hardly feel long or distance-y.”
I’m somber, taking in her profile. She doesn’t waver from cutting off a slice of fish and nabbing it off the end of her fork. Her words are ringing around my head, and I merely catch the tail end of Campo’s comment.
“Ay ay,” Campo wags a finger, his fork tines twisted with his pasta. “I don’t understand these younger generations at all. How can a computer or phone replace the actual feeling of cariño? Of love?”
“Father,” Katherina warns, but he brushes her off.
“I just want to know how you a computer or a phone can hug you at night?” Campo’s tirade is picked up by Custodio and TzaTza who pitch in with their own thoughts, dividing the table...almost.
“What about you, Senor McBride?”
I flick my eyes from Astra because it’s appropriate – and because it hurts to know she’ll harboring her pain through at least one last course, dessert, when she’s only here to help me.
“I think it offers those who can’t find a match as easily the traditional way.” I search out Astra’s thigh under the table and massage her warm, thick flesh. “Evens out the playing field, right?”
“Agreed,” Katherina lifts up her flute of red wine in the shortest of toasts and touches it to her smiling lips. “My last two boyfriends were online matches,” she says as way of explanation, that little smirk playing on her lips. “And that’s why, Father, although mine didn’t work out as wished for it doesn’t leave the rest of us hopeless. We should be giving Mr. McBride and Ms. Olsen our well wishes and blessings.”
“Claro!” he nods gravely, raising his own glass at his daughter’s provocation.
“Thank you.” Astra’s smile is brilliantly cool, but empty. No one seems to notice save me.
And why wouldn’t you? You have no plans to continue this, but it’s pretty damn clear she wants to.
And I don’t?
The question sits hard in my gut. I like her...a lot. Mayb
e even love her, but enough to hold on tight, to make some changes to accommodate Astra and whatever we have.
“If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you two been together?” Katherina dabs a napkin over her mouth to catch the sauces from her Salisbury steak.
I squeeze Astra’s leg, taking this one.
There are a couple more questions of that nature through the main course and dessert, and I make sure to vet them all, biting the proverbial bullet and mushing on through my own mess.
Halfway through dessert Astra excuses herself for the powder room and Katherina and TzaTza decide to follow. With the ladies gone, I face Custodio and Campo at different angles.
Cold anxiety washes over me. I remember to breathe deep, squeezing the cushion of the booth space beside me emptied by Astra. Having a panic attack is a no-no, made more so in front of Custodio and his clear insinuation of disappointment in his question.
“I didn’t know you and Dr. Olsen were so close.” His eyes are frigid, cooler than the crispy February night.
“It sort of just happened. What can I say?” I loosen my jaw from its clenching reaction.
“In the week and a half you’ve been with us?” his tone is incredulous, his thin lips stretching with blatant displeasure and his whiskers wriggling with the rest of his leashed annoyance.
I shrug. “Sounds about right.”
Campo watches quietly before making his observation with a smile. “Love happens so suddenly. It was the same with my wife. We’re celebrating our fortieth soon. She would have loved to join us, but we’ve been hosting my youngest daughter and our grandchildren.”
The ladies’ returning cuts Campo off in one of his family reminiscence, regaling us of memories of his daughters’ childhoods. It makes a nostalgic lump form for something I never had with my mom.
Returning ahead of Astra and TzaTza, Katherina swoops down beside him and laughs lightly, “Are you telling Mr. McBride and Mr. Lopez about those childish antics?” she kisses his cheeks, adding, “I hope you’re at least telling them I’m much wiser now.”
My laugh is tight. I’m watching out for Astra. It takes another few minutes of on-the-edge tension until her red hair and shimmering gold dress enters my vision.
Her sweet fruity lotion and shampoo assails me, and I breathe in Astra deeply, resisting the inclination to sink my nose into her hair in front of our guests. I do press a quick kiss on her cheek. She shivers and almost leans away from me, offering the quickest, barest smile as hint of my affection. I’m baffled. Hurt and confused.
Shifting back to my side of the table, I meet Custodio’s glimmering eyes and shake off the dark knowledge in the glimpse. Dinner concluding is all I care about at this point - that and getting Astra alone so we can talk freely about the night, about us and our future.
I make a speedy resolve: I’m going to talk to her tonight. No more dodging this. I’ll tell her how I feel, come clean and let her do what she wants with the information.
God. I hope my senses aren’t shot and she wants me as much as I do.
Blissfully the time entertaining the Campos end. And with their staying in a hotel in Newark and their flight out tomorrow morning, I won’t have to deal with Custodio’s shitty matchmaking anymore.
Custodio and TzaTza had offered Katherina and Campo a ride, so they left as a group of four, and leaving Astra and I to start our half-hour journey back to Orange Compass.
Remember that quickie I couldn’t think stop thinking about, it doesn’t happen. Neither does any conversation. At least until we pass the welcome sign into OC. I veer the SUV through silent streets. A week night has cleared out any passersby even though it’s barely 8 p.m.
It’s as we’re passing the shadowed building of the school that I say, “About that...thanks again for coming out.”
I choke. Rather than telling her I’ve fallen in lust or love – I’m still navigating through the differences – I just choke.
Gripping the steering, my white knuckles gleam tauntingly at me. Pussy. They say, dumbass pussy – tell her.
“Astra,” her name comes out gruff, but I’m a man put through his paces by none other than myself. And I’m also the only one who can make this all better for me...for her. “Sorry.”
She shifts, her voice floating up and washing over me, soothing me even as she’s simply asking, “For?”
“Everything,” I laugh bitterly.
We’re passing the pole with the red ribbon now, moving out of Main Street into the quieter lane of my childhood. As usual I’m blatantly aware of the old family home as we drive by.
“To name a few though, I’m sorry for putting you through that. I should have known that they’d be asking after us and our…” it’s only a blank of two seconds; a blank filled with chest-burning fear and the descent of unwelcome panic, but I hurriedly rush through the end. “Our relationship, and all of that.”
Astra doesn’t immediately respond. “That’s unnecessary. You didn’t force me to come out tonight.”
Not the answer I’m looking for at all. It’s delivered coolly, like she’d been reciting it over and over again throughout the drive until it’s molded into an icicle and shoved through my chest.
I’m also speechless despite all the things I should say ringing inside my damned head. My hands renew their grasp on the wheel.
I click the blink and turn into her line. Observing stop signs and road rules are keeping me from, what, begging at her feet for not being truthful to her? For being scared of what happens after I bare my mind and heart for her to do what she wills with them?
“I don’t know how else to show you my gratitude.” I say once I’ve turned the engine off in front of her home. I toy with the keys in the ignition and when she doesn’t speak I lift my head to brave searching for her in the dusk.
“Good night.” Astra unlocks her seatbelt and opens the door. I follow her as she hits the sidewalk, catching up to her in a speed walk. She’s rummaging for her house keys in her large, black leather purse.
“We do have to talk,” I say. It’s no or...likely never. If I left for L.A. with things the way they were, I’d never convince myself to come back to Orange Compass and to Astra.
“Can it wait until tomorrow? It’s a school night,” she has her keys out and turned in her lock. I cover her hand with mine and that stops her from running into her house, things being as they are.
How do you go from waking up in each other’s arms, fucking again and then kissing and wishing each other a good day to this in less than 24 hours?
“I know what day it is.” My thumb caresses her smooth flesh, brushing her cold, gold-colored bangle. All my attention is on her. I take in her hazel eyes, darker without the lack of light, natural or otherwise, and her stiff lips, still so kissable given the situation that should have sucked all the libido from me.
“I also know I don’t feel right about any of this. And I won’t feel right until we talk.”
“N-Not tonight,” her voice stern but quaking; a signal of her crumbling defenses. At least now I know she’s angry.
Drawing her hand off the doorknob, I set her fist to my chest. “I care for you.”
“You’ve said that,” her lips are thinner, nostrils flared, but the air puffing out is thicker and faster. I’m unnerving her. And she isn’t as unaffected by my touch – there’s hope for me yet.
Encouraged by what I’m witnessing, I raise her fist to my lips and kiss each gloved knuckle languidly. “I care for you more than I have any other woman, and I’ve given you a tally of that.”
She doesn’t jerk her hand away and slap me. Astra straightens, her heels giving her an advantage of about a few inches tonight. “Is that what you want to talk about?”
It’s not as haughty as it sounds.
In fact her question makes me chuckle and I find her other hand and lavish the same attention on the knuckles there, my lips linger over the suede glove to find her eyes. “That and I think, no,” I lift my head up higher, my e
yes stinging from being opened so long. I have no plan to close them yet in case I miss her reaction.
“No,” I say again. “I’m sure I like you a whole hell lot.”
I can see her swallow, her throat convulsing, and I’m not blind to her eyes shimmering more and more throughout our emotional up-and-down. But I want off this ride, and now.
Something’s telling me she’s not as ready as I thought, sensed she might be.
If anything she’s receding from me both mentally and physically. One of her heels shift back and it’s making me stretch to hold her gloved hands in mine, to keep some measure of connection with us.
“It’s probably even more than that, like I love you but I’m not sure if it is love. Maybe you can help me,” I squeeze her hands and push through, if only to get the weight off my shoulders, to throw my heart, still beating, to the wolves and hope they don’t swallow it whole.