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Eric nods. “I won’t forget that when I offer you tonight,” he says, his eyes drilling into me.
It’s clear he’s only going to do what I want. I lie back down on the bed and beckon him with my finger.
“You’re the expert. I’m in your hands.”
Eric grins and kisses me again.
“Love ... you surprise me more each day.”
“I like it when you call me ‘love.’ Have you noticed the way you affect me when you use such sweet words?”
“You’re starting to scare me.”
That makes me laugh.
“I scare you?”
Eric starts tickling me.
“Yes, Miss Flores ... I think you’re going to be dangerous.”
After dinner, Frida and Andrés go to bed to get some rest. Eric suggests we do the same, but I’d rather read for a while in the shade. Eric accompanies me, and we lie in the comfy hammocks near the pool, sharing music on my iPod while we read.
But the truth is, I hardly read. And though I enjoy Eric’s company, my mind can’t help but go over all the things that might happen later. Having him here by my side, calm and relaxed as he reads the paper, is sublime. Suddenly, a song comes on my iPod, and Eric starts to sing along. I’m utterly floored.
He’s singing along to Malú’s “Black and White.” He knows all the words!
Stunned, I don’t dare move a muscle. I go on pretending I’m reading my book. Listening to Eric sing that song—which always reminds me of him—gives me goose bumps. When the song ends, I realize he’s just looking at me.
“I still remember the day I first heard you sing that.”
“Yes, and you were so sweet—you told me how terrible my singing was, remember? So, how is it that you know that song? That day, you asked me for the name of the song and the singer.”
“I looked it up.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because listening to that song reminds me of you.”
I’m speechless. Eric keeps reading, and I keep pretending to be reading. I’m pretty emotional because, without words, sweet or otherwise, he’s told me, “I love you.”
41
At eight in the evening, Frida and I decide to get ready. The guys do too. We dress separately so we can surprise one another, and I like that. Frida offers to do my makeup. I don’t wear makeup very often, so I let her. When I open my eyes and look in the mirror, I’m absolutely flabbergasted. That woman there, the one with those amazing eyes, isme?
Frida laughs, and we continue getting ready. For the occasion, she has bought a red dress with a deep neckline and lots of fringes. Mine has silver sequins, and it’s loose from my shoulders to my hips. Both dresses go to about the knees and are very sexy and suggestive. We’re wearing skyscraper heels, very long necklaces, feathers in our hair, and, as a finishing touch, gloves that go up past our elbows. We check ourselves in the mirror.
“Oh ... we look like real flappers!” says Frida, laughing.
Once ready, we grab the two long cigarette holders we bought and go to meet the guys, who are waiting for us.
“You look sensational,” says Eric.
“You like it?”
“I love it, so much that I don’t think I’m going to let you leave the house.”
I laugh and walk a few steps, shaking my hips to show off the dress.