“
I’ll tell you what,” he says. “You keep me company while I finish my dinner. I won’t even ask you what you have…or don’t have…under that coat. Deal?”
I smile tentatively and smooth down my hair. “Deal.”
“You don’t have to do that for me,” he says, gently taking my hand away from my hair. “I’ll get a blanket so you don’t get dirty.”
I wait until he pulls a clean light green fleece blanket out of a closet.
We sit on the blanket and Alex looks at his watch. “Want some?” he asks, pointing to his dinner.
Maybe eating will calm my nerves. “What is it?”
“Enchiladas. Mi’amá makes kick-ass enchiladas.” He stabs a small portion with a fork and holds it out to me. “If you’re not used to this kind of spicy food--”
“I love spicy,” I interrupt, taking it into my mouth. I start chewing, enjoying the blend of flavors. But when I swallow, my tongue slowly catches on fire. Somewhere behind all the fire there’s flavor, but the flames are in the way.
“Hot,” is all I can say as I attempt to swallow.
“I told you.” Alex holds out the cup he’d been drinking from. “Here, drink. Milk usually does the trick, but I only have water.”
I grab the cup. The liquid cools my tongue, but when I finish the water it’s as if someone stokes it again. “Water…,” I say.
He fills another cup. “Here, drink more, though I don’t think it’ll help much. It’ll subside soon.”
Instead of drinking it this time, I stick my tongue in the cold liquid and keep it there. Ahhh…
“You okay?”
“To I wook otay?” I ask.
“With your tongue in the water like that, actually, it’s erotic. Want another bite?” he asks mischievously, acting like the Alex I know.
“Mo mank ooh.”
“Your tongue still burnin’?”
I lift my tongue from the water. “It feels like a million soccer players are stomping on it with their cleats.”
“Ouch,” he says, laughing. “You know, I heard once that kissin’ reduces the fire.”
“Is that your cheap way of telling me you want to kiss me?”
He looks into my eyes, his dark gaze capturing mine. “Querida, I always want to kiss you.
”
”