Page 16 of A Follow-Through in Faking
Santiago
Catalina and I have both made it to the semi-finals of the Australian Open. Matteo lost against Blake Hauser yesterday and Cata’s friend Sage lost against Layla. Cata has been on edge since. If she makes it to the final against Layla, she isn't sure she will be able to win.
And if she doesn't believe in herself, she won't .
In a sport where you are competing for yourself, if you are not sure of your abilities and skills, you won’t get anywhere.
Catalina and I are meant to go on a public date to celebrate her twenty-fourth birthday today, trying to sell our fake relationship during the first tournament of the season.
She’s expecting us to simply go to a restaurant, a place Charlie and Mamá tipped the paparazzi off that we were going to, but I have a different plan in mind.
Something grander.
Something that will make my little rain cloud very happy with me.
When she was a kid, her mother would organize scavenger hunts for Catalina. Usually, they would take place on her birthday, and she’d have to figure out all these clues to find the location that held all of her presents.
So, that is exactly what we’re doing today.
It’s convenient that neither Cata nor I have a match today, and while it’s important to train, a recovery day is equally as important. It allows us to rest, to fully hydrate ourselves, and to get some much-needed pain relief through massages and stretching.
It also gives us time to mentally recover.
And as emotional as she might be initially when I reveal what we’ll be doing, I hope the fun of it all will overpower everything else.
“Well, well, happy birthday to me,” she says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I’m mid stretch, my legs straddling the ground as I thrust my hips forward in a slightly inappropriate motion that is also very good at stretching out my hips.
A smirk covers my lips as I keep going, not the least bit ashamed.
This is part of my routine, and while I’ve never had anyone but Papá in the room while I did it, I can’t say I hate the way Cata watches me with lust in her eyes.
Normally, she’s very good at shutting down her desire for me since her contempt overpowers it, but she’s not so successful now.
“Want to join me?” I ask, still watching her as I keep going. Ten more seconds, and I’d be done, but I don’t want to stop while mi mariquita watches me like that.
“I’d rather never have sex again,” she replies, crossing those trained arms of hers over her chest and glaring at me.
“Come on, be honest with me for once, carino . You’ve thought about fucking me, haven’t you?” I ask, watching her roll her eyes. I stop stretching, kneeling as I wait for her response, which is as I expected it to be.
It’s so very Catalina.
“I’ve also thought about sticking my hand in boiling hot oil, but the goal is not to let intrusive thoughts win, Santiago.”
A snort slips free, making pride glimmer in her eyes.
“I think you should let all your intrusive thoughts about me win,” I reply, standing up and closing the distance between us.
Cata doesn’t move away, even as I lift a hand to her cheek. I wait for her permission before touching her, and she turns her head to put her cheek in my hand with a frown.
“Fine, but you should know, I always fight my intrusive thoughts of stabbing you with my fork when we have dinner. Considering you’re taking me out today, you might want to reconsider that statement.
” I notice her staring at my bare arms before she catches herself and shifts her attention back to me.
“Don’t worry. Forks are going to be the last thing on your mind today.”
She gives me a confused look, but I simply grin at her and hold out my hand, waiting for her to put hers in mine. Cata rolls her eyes one last time before taking my hand and allowing me to pull her out of the gym.
Today is going to be fun.
It’s summertime in Australia, so Catalina is wearing a flowy white dress with a burst of colors from several different flowers all over it.
Her skin appears to be glowing in the light of the afternoon sun, and her blue eyes are complemented by the dark eyeshadow she’s wearing.
She braided her long, brown hair into two dutch braids, a few strands framing her face.
Her scowl is firmly set in place, but when she sees me, clad in a white dress shirt that matches her outfit, and dark blue jeans with a bouquet of daffodils—her favorites—in my hand, her gaze softens.
“Happy Birthday, mariquita ,” I say and step toward her, handing her the flowers. She takes them from me, and I lean down to place a kiss on her cheek. Her eyes flutter shut before I make contact, which is all the reassurance I need.
My lips press to the soft skin on her left cheek, and I linger because I can’t help myself. She smells fresh and sweet, so I inhale subtly, trying to get my fill of her scent for the millionth time since we’ve met. It’s been over a decade, but Catalina has always smelled this way.
And even though I linger, she doesn’t push me away. She doesn’t tell me she’ll gut me like I would have expected. Cata simply places her free hand on my chest and gently presses to break the skin contact.
“I think the paparazzi got their picture,” she says, her eyes drifting over my shoulder.
We’re in front of her hotel, and I know for certain Charlie and Mamá did not tip them off that we’d meet here. It’s too dangerous for Cata for anyone to know where she’s staying.
“Relax, they’ve known where I’m staying since I arrived. It’s fine,” she says, but I’m not happy about this at all.
“You’re coming to stay with me at my hotel,” I blurt out, attempting to storm past her and up the stairs to the entrance of her hotel when she wraps her fingers around my wrist to stop me.
“I most certainly am not, Santi. It’s enough that we are forced to spend so much time together. I am not voluntarily going to be around you more,” she says, walking toward where I parked my rental car to pick her up.
I bite down my frustrated rant about her not taking her safety seriously enough. There is no point. If she doesn’t want to come with me, she won’t.
But that doesn’t stop me from texting Charlie and telling them to get some security for Catalina for the last week that we’re going to be here in Melbourne. It’s a wonder people have known about her staying here for a week already without any incidents.
“Santiago, let it go. I’m fine,” she says, and I wonder for the millionth time why I care. Why her safety is so important to me. Why I’m trying to find ways to make her forgive me and even despise me less.
It’s not because I want a lasting relationship with her that isn’t fake. Of course it’s not. That would not only be extremely out of character for me since I’ve never been in a relationship before, it would also be plain stupid.
But this season is going to be long, so it only makes sense that I’m trying to find ways to bond with her. To bicker less. To… well, fuck me, but I want to kiss her, even if we’re faking it, while she isn’t so damn angry with me all the time.
“Get a move on, cabrón. I’m going to get my first grey hair waiting for you,” she says right before slipping into the passenger seat.
A sigh of utter frustration slips past my lips, but I do as she wants and get into the car.
“Would it kill you to be a bit more positive about spending time with me?” I ask once I drive onto the highway and toward our first location. Catalina looks thoughtful for a moment as she seems to consider my words.
The key-word being “seems.”
“I’m not sure, but I’d rather not find out,” she replies, which has me smiling despite how much I want to shake her.
“Let’s make another deal. If by the end of the day you hate me a little less, I want you to give me a hug. Not a fake one. A real one. The kind of hugs you give Charlie,” I say, still grinning because Cata throws a disgusted look my way.
“It’d take a miracle, so sure, Santi. And if I don’t hate you less?”
“I’ll buy you whatever you want.”
“Sounds good. I’ve always wanted my own private jet that flies me to my own private island.”
I burst into laughter, and finally, she joins me, her melodic voice filling the rental car until there is nothing left for me in the world but the extraordinary woman beside me.