Chapter Fourteen
Aveline
“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY.” I shuffled down Ricky’s row, settling into the seat next to him, and not even bothering to ask him if he minded. Each of my actions bold and I got a rush of empowerment that kept me going.
Ricky’s head jolted at my words. He squinted, and his lips pressed flat. “What’s that?” He cleared his throat before continuing. “Your voice is quiet, I missed what you said.”
I smiled, opening my laptop and powering it on. “I said, happy Valentine’s Day. It’s today. So…” My words trailed off as my nerves settled in. Why would he feel the need to respond in kind? He probably had a girlfriend, or at least a hot date to ring in a night that celebrated lovers.
God, lovers—the word made my body flush with warmth. My eyes drifted to his jean clad legs extended in front of him. Legs long, muscles so thick that the cut of his quads could be seen under the layer of clothing. His size and strength excited me and summoned protection. Imagining both physical and emotional intimacy with him made my skin pebble with goose bumps.
“Are you cold?” Ricky’s eyes traveled up and down my arms and chest. “You shivered.” Without waiting for my response, he shrugged out of his worn leather jacket, draping it around my shoulders.
My eyes closed as his scent enveloped me. The leather, the hint of cinnamon, the touch of cologne and underlying smell of gas, all mingled together into something incredibly male. I shivered again. My body was reacting to him in a way it never had with anyone ever before. The sight of him, the sound of his voice, and his smell had me picturing things I had only read about.
Things that I wanted to discover very much.
I crossed my legs, tightening the muscles between them to alleviate some of the ache.
“You shivered again. Are you feeling okay?” Ricky’s fingers ghosted across my face, landing briefly on my forehead as he pressed the skin searching for fever.
“I’m fine. Just fine.” My grin wobbled as I pushed my glasses up higher on my nose.
Ricky squinted again as he studied my face. Finally, he relaxed, bringing his hand down to my desktop, his lips curving. “I had no idea about today. Not really my thing. But, uh, happy Valentine’s Day to you too.”
I brought my hand down, right next to where his sat. My fingers twitched, itching to wander over and hold his. The sight of our hands next to each other filled me with curiosity. A case study in opposites one might say. His hands were large, with light brown skin. Mine were small and delicate in comparison and my skin so white it almost appeared translucent under the fluorescent lights of the classroom. His veins thick and protruding. Mine small and blue. Black tattoos marked his skin, my skin was free of any ink. His hands were almost always clenched into fists, always ready for battle it seemed, even in class. Mine rested flat, ready for contact—always used for communication and for touch.
In a silent home like mine, I was raised understanding love through touch. I was held, hugged, kissed, and snuggled. A rub on the shoulder, kiss on the head, or a pat on the back were frequent reminders of our ever-present connection. Sitting here it was difficult not to pass that connection on to Ricky.
The contrast of our hands caused a giggle to burst out of my mouth. Ricky startled, his face crinkled in confusion, lips unable to hold back a small grin.
I gave up the fight. As if I were watching strangers and not moving of my own volition, my hand covered Ricky’s fist, hoping to offer something to him. What? I wasn’t sure. Peace? Companionship? Something more than friendship, for sure.
I waited for Ricky’s reaction to my bold move. His eyes lightened for a second before he, too, focused on our hands. As he watched, I wondered if he noticed the striking differences like I did. What fascinated me, though, was the myriad of emotion his eyes showed me. First was that gentle softening, flashing a hard look next, followed by them closing for a brief moment, and when they opened again, I saw determination.
“Class, let’s begin today’s discussion with Piaget’s theories on cognitive development, particularly child development.” Dr. Redmond’s voice brought me back to reality and out of my deep personal examination of all things Ricky. We moved away from each other at the same time. My fingers settled on my keyboard, his with a pencil in hand.
For the next hour, I forced my mind to absorb the complex findings of Piaget and not the complex man sitting next to me.
* * *
“DO YOU HAVE any plans?” Ricky’s gravelly voice was not what I expected to hear after Dr. Redmond’s lecture ended.
“In life? Today? Next week?” I giggled, bumping my elbow gently against Ricky’s upper arm. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
Was I… flirting? I mean, I had practiced. In the shower, in front of my mirror, in the car. I always sounded weird. Now? Clearly, I was no expert, but I thought I sounded okay.
Ricky’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Good point, there. Sorry, I was talking about right now. Would you like to do something? It’s Valentine’s Day, right?” Ricky moved out from his chair, putting his notebook and pencil in his backpack.
I followed, gathering his leather jacket. Resisting the urge to bury my nose in it, I returned it to him. “Thanks for that. It kept me very warm.”
Also, you. Your presence. The thoughts you unknowingly conjure up in my head. Jacket or not, I believed being around Ricky would always make me warm.
Zipping up my bag, I turned to Ricky. “Don’t you have plans with a girlfriend tonight? It’s pretty much the biggest date night of the year.” I held my breath. Please say no. Please say no. Say no. Say no. Say no.
His lips pressed together, his eyes assessing before he answered. “No girlfriend, no plans. I have to work later, but I have a few hours free.”
My heart raced, happiness and relief flowing freely through my veins. “I’d love to hang out.” We walked side by side out of the classroom, exiting the building along with a mass of students. A light snow began to fall, not sticking to the ground, but decorating the air with swirls and stars of white fluffs.
“Should I follow you in my car? Since you’re working? Or would you like to ride with me? I’d be happy to drop you back here.” The cold air whipped around us, the chill of February causing steam to escape my mouth as I spoke.
Ricky nodded, placing his hand on the small of my back as he led the way to the parking garage. “Follow me. I’m not letting you ride on the back of my bike when it’s snowing. But, I’ll need my bike close by to make it to work on time.”
We stopped by my car and as I unlocked it, Ricky opened my door, waiting until I slipped inside. “Do you know Manny’s? It’s on Eleventh and Illinois?”
I pursed my lips, mentally picturing the location. “I’ve never been, but I’ve passed by.”
His laugh was hard, and he gave a small shake of his head. “No, I can’t imagine you have been there. Follow me.”
He closed my door without another word, a quick change from the sweet guy who opened it with such gentle manners. Starting the engine, I watched in the rearview mirror as he slipped on his helmet and started his engine. What had changed in those few minutes? He acted angry that I had never been to this bar. Why would that offend him? Little did he know, but my family rarely ate out at restaurants, let alone bars. Regardless, I wasn’t sure why that bothered him.
Ricky backed out slowly and then moved forward, waiting for me to do the same. As soon as I was out of my car space, he took off at a clip, and I concentrated on following him through the late-day traffic.
Twenty minutes later, I parked at Manny’s Restaurante and Bar. Grabbing my purse, my fingers found the car door handle, but Ricky was already there, opening it and extending a hand to help me out.
My cold fingers clasped onto his, somehow still warm despite the motorcycle ride here. The contact sent a spike of heat through my body and I looked up, his brown eyes tracking my face carefully.
He dropped my hand when I stood but guided me into the bar with his hand on my lower back.
“Ricardo!”
“Hermano!”
“Hola, Ricky!”
Calls of welcome greeted Ricky as soon as he sauntered into the room. I looked around, taking in the South American flags hung on the walls, the colorful decorations and signs all printed in Spanish, and the chatter in the same language helping me understand why Ricky would assume I had never been to Manny’s.
This was yet another place I didn’t fit in.
Ricky waved to the bartender and led us to a booth in the back. We slid in opposite sides, and I exhaled a shaky breath as two menus were placed in front of us.
“Ricardo, como estas?” A woman with thick curly black hair, pulled back with a wide headband asked, her hand on his shoulder, her breasts thrusting toward Ricky in a way that told me she wanted much more than to take his order.
“En ingles, por favor, Rosalita.” He extended his hand in my direction. “This is Aveline. She doesn’t speak Spanish.”
Rosalita’s glare was frigid. Her nose crinkled as she reared back, looking at me from head to toe. I opened my mouth to tell them both I spoke Spanish fairly fluently, but stopped, keeping that knowledge to myself.
“Hello,” I began my voice gentle and timid. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Rosalita looked like she had swallowed a lemon. She turned to Ricky. “What can I get you, cuero?
Ricky looked at me expectantly. Wine. I needed wine. I needed vodka, but I was driving so wine would do it. “I’d like a glass of Pinot Grigio, please.”
Rosalita rolled her eyes and looked at Ricky. “Beer for me. You know what I like.” He sat back, his arm resting along the top of the booth. The move made his jacket fall open, showing his sculpted chest underneath his fitted long sleeved t-shirt.
A groan of appreciation rumbled from Rosalita’s chest. “I sure do, cuero.” Her tongue dragged slowly across her lower lip.
What the hell? She was brazenly flirting with Ricky and he was here with me. I sat up straighter, adjusting my glasses, and willing my face not to burn.
“Thanks,” he told her, but his eyes found mine. His mouth curved, almost like he enjoyed seeing my discomfort. “You okay?”
“Why did you bring me here?” The question slipped out before I could hold it in. At that moment, my life seemed like a series of events where I never belonged. Always the odd one out.
His eyes narrowed, and he sat forward, both arms on the table top. He leaned closer, his upper body taking up almost all of the table as he brought his face closer to mine.
“What’s wrong with this place? Is it not nice enough for you?” He spit out the last word. Anger covered him like a cloth and gone was the boy I had thought I was getting to know.
My heart pounded so hard and fast, I wondered if he could see it through my shirt. “Nothing is wrong with this place. But our waitress looks like she can’t stand the sight of me. Is that because I’m not Latino? And if so, I’d think you might have anticipated that kind of reaction.”
His eyebrows drew together, and he sat back in the booth, blowing out a long breath. “Okay, I get it. Rosalita and I… used to… fool around. I wasn’t thinking about her being here tonight.” He motioned with his hand, gesturing to the restaurant. “Lots of non-Latino people come here. The food is fantastic, and the alcohol is dirt cheap.”
Rosalita strutted over, gently placing Ricky’s beer in front of him, before placing my wine glass down. It smacked the table, wine dribbling down the side of the glass. I looked up and she was watching me, waiting for my reaction.
“Thank you, Rosalita.” My words were gentle. I used a napkin to wipe off the glass. I couldn’t rebuke her. If I had fooled around with Ricky and lost out on future opportunities, I’d be salty too.
Ricky took a long drink of beer, watching as I sipped my wine. “Are you allowed to drink before work?” I hoped the teasing tone of my voice wouldn’t rankle him. His temper was quick to ignite.
“I’m working at my main job, the bike shop. I could do those repairs with my eyes closed.” He drank again, pulling the paper off the corner of the label on his bottle. “What’re your plans tonight?”
“Dinner with my parents.” My fingers traced the stem of the glass. “Nothing too exciting.”
Ricky was quiet, seeming to mull over his thoughts. “No dates tonight?”
I took a large gulp of wine, shaking my head as I swallowed. “No dates ever.” The burn on my cheeks traveled to the tips of my ears. Admitting my lack of male attention was embarrassing.
Ricky’s eyes widened. “How’s that possible?”
I shrugged. “Like I told you before, homeschooled. Super protective mom.”
Ricky focused on his beer. I had to gather my courage and say something. I wanted more than anything to experience something new with Ricky. A kiss. A real date. And while I was sure he didn’t want the same thing, if I never tried… never took the chance… I was sure I would regret that decision for the rest of my life.
“I’m going to try and be brave and tell you something I’ve had on my mind.” His head jerked up and he waited for me to continue. “I think you are beautiful. I know you aren’t supposed to call men beautiful, but you are. Your face, your hair, your body. Beauty. I watched you with that homeless man. That was another kind of beauty. And the way you listen to me intently. More beauty. I wanted to tell you how I feel because I’ve never had this opportunity. You were in class when I got called up on stage and talked about the accident that I was in. I think that accident has continued to control much of my life. It’s caused my parents to hover, it’s caused them to keep me close and at home, and the knowledge that it hurt another man has changed the way we live our life. I—I want that to end, now. I want to stop being afraid. I want to be brave… with you.”
My words ended in a whisper and I bit my lip, holding my breath as I waited for his response. Ricky closed his eyes and scooted out of his side of the booth. He stood, pulling a bill from his pocket and tossing it onto the table.
“I’ve gotta go. I can’t be here. I can’t… with you.” His voice was laced with despair, edged with hostility. He focused on his boots, avoiding my eyes. Turning abruptly, he hurried out of the front door of the restaurant.
I closed my eyes, hoping to hold back the tears of humiliation that threatened to spill over.
The engine of his bike gunned. The motor screamed as he peeled out of the parking lot, and tears escaped, running down my cheeks in twin lines.
Perhaps this was why Mom and Dad kept me home, protecting me from the cruelty of the world. I swiped away tears from under my glasses and stood. Across the way, Rosalita watched me, her hip against the counter, arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t mock me or look pleased that I was abandoned.
No, she didn’t look shocked at all. And that was what hurt the most. She expected this from Ricky.
I was no different. Nothing special.
And as the small bloom of hope that planted itself in my heart began to wither, I gathered my purse and headed back to my car.
What was worse? Never getting a chance to live your life? Or getting a peek at something you’d never thought you could have, only to understand you weren’t enough?