Page 77 of That Last Summer

2009

Alex came back from Beijing with a bronze medal in butterfly stroke and an irrepressible desire to ask Priscila to be his girlfriend. Although at this point, denying they were a couple was a nonsense—they had been since a couple of summers ago.

She’d been on his mind every second during the Olympics; he wanted her by his side for the next ones. As his girlfriend. He’d never cared much about that before, but he wanted everything with her: to go through every life stage, not missing a single beat. And he needed to be sure that his girl felt the same. He checked with the water first and they came to a decision: Alex could do both—swim, and be with Priscila.

So he asked her, as soon as he returned from Beijing. Well, there was no asking, really. Rather, he told her.

“Hey, Queen of the Desert...”

“Don’t call me that, Alejandro,” she interrupted as they lay on the sand at Jellyfish Cove that afternoon.

He ignored Priscila’s retort; she climbed onto his lap and threw her arms around his neck. “You know we’re dating, right?”

Priscila looked at him intently. “Of course,” she replied, barely suppressing a smile.

“Good.”

“Good.”

Alex and Priscila were already madly in love. That young, beautiful, pure, sincere love that takes your breath away, that you feel in every inch of your body, that is etched hot on your heart and becomes unforgettable. It had developed stealthily, but it was done now. And it couldn’t be ignored.

They had been in love since puberty, most likely, but neither could pinpoint the precise moment of transformation.

Alex thought it had happened bit by bit, like drops of water falling into a glass—or into a swimming pool. Priscila was those drops falling into his heart, until he was filled and he knew. He’d fallen in love with her.

Priscila didn’t know exactly when she fell in love with Alex either, only that she fell, and without remedy, madly in love: with his dark eyes, his hair, his dimples, his smile... with the process of getting to know him. Because Alex didn’t show his true self in the beginning—even if he was arrogant and bold, he was very reserved. Discovering he was as gorgeous inside as he was out was a beautiful process in itself: finding out that behind that cocky smile there was a big heart; behind that indifferent and arrogant posture there was a regular guy, who—as unbelievable as it sounded—had also fallen in love with her.

The summer of 2009 followed a long winter, over which Alex stayed in Madrid for his work. And if after the Athens Olympics his name had featured in every sports chat and news bulletin, now the Alexander St. Claire effect was unstoppable: newspapers, magazines, newscasts, television programs... He was everywhere, despite wanting nothing more than to spend his summer vacation enjoying the quiet of his town, relaxing with his people. With his Queen of the Desert.

But of course in a town of ten thousand inhabitants, all eager to talk to the Olympic champion—the town’s hero—the quiet and relaxing time he was hoping for was an impossibility.

It was relentless. Something had to be done, no question.

So his beloved girlfriend put a plan into action.

The first time she did it coincided with the first time she sneaked into Alex’s house through his bedroom window. He opened it every morning as soon as he woke, and she climbed up easily—there was a rope ladder from the window to the ground. Priscila made a mental note to ask her neighbor about that.

Alex had just taken a shower and emerged from the bathroom to find Priscila sitting on his bed, eyeing a couple of magazines.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, more pleased than surprised.

“I snuck in through your window. I’ve come to kidnap you.”

“Oh? And what are you planning to do with me?”

“All kind of things.”

Alex felt his arousal run through his body, focusing on a very specific part. Priscila, seeing the tent growing under the towel he’d tied around his waist, burst out laughing and pulled him onto the bed with her.

“Are your parents home?”

“No.”

“Good, because I have something planned for before the kidnapping.”

They made love amid laughter and uncontained moans and then, in the comfort of Alex’s bed, wrapped in each other, Priscila asked him, “Why do you have a crappy rope ladder under your window?”

“I put it there when I was a kid. I used to have nightmares about monsters coming through my front door. It was my escape route. I guess it just stayed there.”