My face burned, and I turned away. “Oohhkay,” I said quietly, embarrassed and rejected. I couldn’t believe Trent said no when I invited him upstairs. After all of those rules I’d processed in my head, all the reasons why I shouldn’t get together with him—once I was willing to break those and ask, he said no.

And I thought that’s what we talked about in the tetería. I was so confused.

He reached over and took my hand, clenched it, and let it go. When he spoke, he did it quietly and fervently. “Danika Anderson. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I’ve wanted you for so long. I’m sure you’ve figured that out.”

I shrugged, attempting nonchalance. But yeah, I had.

“There’s nothing I want more than to get you naked.” His eyes closed. “It would be a fantasy. But I’m not gonna do it as your fuck boy. You want a body, any warm body just for tonight, so you can escape and check that off your list of experiences, then move on. I’m not willing to do that for you because I want more than just your body.”

“It would mean more than that.” I grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled it. He gently held my wrist and gazed at me.

Opening my mouth to say something more, he cut me off and pulled my hand to his chest. “If you ever want me for a relationship, though, a real one, if you ever let me in, I’ll tear your clothes off so fast you’d wonder why you even bothered wearing them.”

I took a sharp intake of breath.

Coupled with those intense eyes, that was a promise I’d want to see fulfilled.

“No means not tonight, sweetheart. It’s up to you to decide if and when.”

The only way I could respond to that was to nod mutely.

He dropped my hand and continued, “But I also said that I’d give you anything. Anything you needed. And if that’s what you need right now, I’ll do it. I’m telling you, it wouldn’t be a sacrifice. But I wanted you to know where I stood on it. That I rather it mean something to you, too.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say. So I just stared at my shoes, anywhere but his ardent eyes.

Trent gathered me in his arms and hugged me so tight I didn’t know if I could make it up the stairs by myself afterward. He kissed the top of my head and, once I stepped inside, he strode down the street into the summer night.

When I got to my place, I sat outside on my balcony, my feet up on the railing, hoping he’d change his mind and come loping back up my street. I fingered my cell phone, thinking I’d text Lulu. But I thought she’d come down on me for wanting to get together with Trent.

Maybe that was another reason why I shouldn’t.

That man.

He made me feel so wanted. I hadn’t felt that way around anyone in so long. I ran my hands up and down my arms. While the night was balmy, goosebumps popped on my skin as I thought about Trent and how honorable he was.

And how saying no to me made him all the more desirable.

Was he right? Did I just want him for his body?

And holy hell, he wanted me and I wanted him. He said it. So was that part of the discipline of the army? The ability to hold back, to say no, when you really burned to say yes?

It made me want him more, even though I couldn’t do what he wanted.

For one thing, his philosophy differed from mine.

Although…

My ex-boyfriend, Brian, was as “spiritual” as they come. Showed you couldn’t judge people by their appearance. Beneath that dreadlocked hair in a man bun was a control freak who dictated which country we went to next, checked my emails and texts, and was in charge of my passport. So much for live and let live. His micromanagement choked me, questioning everything I did.

That was why I turned off all social media. That way no one could stalk me. I just wanted to be left alone, and I swore I’d never date anyone as controlling as him.

This was one reason, of course, why I was wary of Trent. He had controlling tendencies, too, I could tell. Hello, he traveled halfway across the world just to find me.

But knowing that it was to deliver Degan’s last words to me? That made it different. Sweeter.

But I still couldn’t read the letter.

I’d admit that I was flattered that Trent liked me. I guess part of being a teacher was to have people look up to you all the time, and they developed little crushes. My usual response was to ignore them. I’d be gone to the next city before they could even try to look me up online.

Trent, though. He wasn’t just a student. The fierceness in his eyes told me this wasn’t a puppy dog crush.

My body? I’d give him. I’d wanted him to explore it ever since that time so many years ago.

But he wanted more. The real deal.

Did I want that, too?

* * *

I went upstairs, turned off the lights and lit a candle, spotlighting a picture of my family. After my dad died, I’d had it framed and kept it with me along with a card he’d sent taped to the back. This was how I honored his memory.

In the photo, my mom, blond, petite, and pretty, smiled broadly. This was before we learned her diagnosis. My dad stood next to her, his arm around her shoulder, proud and happy. And Degan and I posed in front, arm in arm, mugging at the camera.

God, I missed them all.

After my mother died, it became more and more my responsibility to make sure that Degan had clothes and food. While my dad was around, he was twenty years older than my mom, and he struggled to keep up with Degan’s energy. They both seemed lost without my mom. I came home from high school every day and made sure they had enough supplies in the pantry and the refrigerator. I did their laundry. I cleaned the house. I basically became the mom.

Once Degan entered the military, I was free.

No wonder I ran so much.

But thinking of Degan made me think of bad memories. After I had pizza with him and Trent before they left for boot camp, Degan and I went back home. With the house up for sale, I’d been cleaning it out. Getting rid of everything for the estate sale.

We fought before he left.

I didn’t remember what started it. Maybe him getting upset about a box of photographs that had accidentally gotten tossed. No matter, the fight turned from, “You’re so selfish” to, “I hope I never see you as long as I live.”

“If you really do this, if you go in the army,” I’d snarled, “I hope you never come back. We don’t need any fighters. We need peace.”

“I want peace—” Degan had started to say, but I interrupted him.

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re gone. You’re joining something I don’t believe in.”

He shook his head. “You’re crazy, Dani.”

“I hate the military with a passion. If you’re part of it, you’re part of the problem.”

“Is that really what you think? That I’m doing this to cause problems?”

“Yes.”

He stared at the ceiling, his face red, then he looked at me. “You’re wrong. I’m doing this because it’s my life, and I can do what I want. And I’m doing this because it’s something I believe in. Because I’m called to it.”

Narrowing my eyes, I pointed my finger at him. “If you go, you might as well be dead to me.”

I hated that we never resolved that. He left the next day. While we still emailed after that, our messages were distant. Almost formal. I never saw him on leave because of my travel.

With the space of time, though, I wondered if Degan went in the army because he didn’t want me to have him as my responsibility anymore. That idea made my stomach hurt.

I wandered into the kitchen to get a glass of water. As I stood, downing my drink, this antsy, uncomfortable sensation came over me yet again. I did the only thing I knew to do to calm me. I set down my glass and walked to the center of the room. With a flick, I unfurled my mat onto the terracotta floor.

Yoga practice didn’t always make me feel good, but it was all I had. When my life got fractured, spending time paying attention to my body made me whole again. Although it was hot, I went through the motions of lighting incense. When I went to light a candle, the match sparked out of control.

Kind of like my emotions this week.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I settled on the mat and focused my attention on the air going in my nose and down my throat. The years of practice helped me, helped my racing brain to stop spinning around on ideas like a merry-go-round and letting them go.

Was this a form of bolting too? Was I leaving by being present?

The summer night breeze touched my bare shoulder through the window. After breathing in and out for a few cycles, I began a series of movements, reaching up, bending my body down into forward fold, plank, cobra, and lunge.

The movement got my blood going and my focus on my body, not the uncomfortable thoughts I’d been having. Perspiration beaded on my brow. After a few rounds of sun salutations, I shifted to triangle pose, feeling strong and grounded. Centered.

Being here now, I could do this. I could stay. My toes scrunched into my mat, my body stayed here and so did my mind. But then I moved to a pose called wild thing. Leaning back, almost like a backwards push-up with my arm extended, it opened up my heart, my chest space. Suddenly, a sob migrated to my throat.

Not again.

Tears ran down my face unchecked. I collapsed to the floor on my back, whimpering yet again. Why did this pose make me cry?

I wiped my tears on the back of my hand and I realized in the dark, lit only by a candle, that I was lonely. So very, very lonely. I’d spent so long running, that the second I decided to slow down and look around, my past caught up to me. My parents had died. My brother was dead. I had no close friends but Louise.

Trent had dredged up all these things.

I texted Louise.

Can you come over?

No one in Spain went to bed early. She called me immediately. “Dani? What is it?”

I wanted to tell her everything. How I missed my parents and missed my brother. How much I longed for them. The crushing feeling of solitude and abandonment that came over me during my yoga practice.

But I couldn’t do it. I croaked out, in a raspy voice, “I need you.”

The tone of her voice registered concern. “Give me ten.”

When she stepped in the door, I hugged her so hard. Her curvy body comforted me, and she let the tears come with no questions asked. After I soaked through her bright blouse, she retrieved more tissues and held me some more.

“I miss my brother.”

“I know, sugar.”

“It’s too hard to be here. I don’t want to resign. But it really hurts to stay. And I feel so alone. You’re the only one I have.”

Her eyes met mine. “You’ve always been the one to leave a note on the bedside table, letting others find you.”

“Maybe I want to be found, now.”

Once my sobs subsided, we lay in my bed. I fell asleep with her stroking my hair.

* * *

The next morning, Louise and I breakfasted together, then she went home, and I hiked up to the Alhambra for a field trip, meeting about ten of my students, including the one who made my heart thump.

The incredibly ornate and ancient Alhambra was a Moorish castle with winding pathways and leafy alcoves separating the buildings—or what remained of the buildings. Someone with Boho style like me would want to move in before you could say, “Om.” Fountains flowed through the living areas, which, when furnished with bright tapestries and tufted cushions, had certainly been the scene for seduction.

Hundreds of the thousand and one nights took place here, but I wanted at least one. With him.

“Observe,” the guide said, circled by my students, who interpreted her statements to each other in quiet tones. Trent leaned against a wall by me, cool and collected, sheltered by the trees in the park. As usual, he’d dressed in a yummy gray fitted T-shirt and jeans, smelling clean from the shower. I wore a sleeveless, white eyelet dress with a dark leather belt and sandals. My elbow accidentally, on-purpose grazed his, and he held me with his steady eyes.

“A little-known fact is that the Alhambra was incredibly modern. Heated water ran through the walls, making it comfortable for the residents on cold nights.”

Even though our walk was in the heat of the day, all I could think about was getting comfy with Trent. Especially those abs of his. Goddamn.

The guide continued talking, but I barely paid attention, zeroing in on Trent’s burly forearms just inches from mine. “Notice the site of this fortress. It is built on a hill so it’s defensible. There are rivers on two sides and a forest behind it, an excellent strategic location. Nothing can get to it. The people who lived here long ago could live in comfort and peace, knowing that they had natural fortifications that protected them from getting hurt.”

I knew something about building a fortress around myself so I wouldn’t get hurt. Two rivers down below, a thick forest to the back, and a castle on top? Sounded good to me.

Too bad that defensive strategy didn’t work in my real life.

Trent nudged me and smiled. Was he thinking the same thing? That the fantasy world I lived in was under attack? By him?

No. I looked in the direction of his gaze. A young couple made out on a park bench. She straddled him, fully-dressed, while he kissed her like no one was watching. Since so many young people lived with their parents in Spain due to the economy, this was the only way many couples could get some privacy—out in public.

Still, it was hot as hell seeing them. I warmed between my legs and daydreamed about pushing Trent down on a park bench and straddling him.

Kissing the hell out of him.

The class had moved on, but I was staring, transfixed, at the couple. The guide cleared her throat.

Oops.

I wiped perspiration from my brow. Jeez, I was getting worked up.

Four years was way too long to wait for another kiss from Trent.

Following the guide, I stayed in the back, hearing the tour of the interconnected buildings of the Alhambra, but not listening. My thoughts were only of him.

Dammit, he always distracted me.

When we finished, I said, “Everyone who came will get extra credit for attending the tour.”

The students exchanged pleased glances.

“As an option, if anyone wants to keep going with me, I’m going to walk up to the Generalife gardens and tour the famous fountains. You are excused for the day, though.”

“Ciao, profesora,” said Gustavo. I found it funny that Spaniards used Italian slang. “Thanks for the tour.”

The class dispersed, but Trent stayed behind.

“Do you want to keep going?” I asked. And I meant more than just walking up the hill. I meant going with whatever this was we were pursuing. I had no idea if he knew that, but I loved his answer.

“Absolutely.”

We hiked up the hill, passing all sorts of clandestine spots. Little garden benches. Fountains. Vistas of Granada.

Why had I pushed him away before? I was done with that. I wanted him.

“I wonder what people have been doing here all these centuries?” he asked, when we stopped to behold the grand view across the way to the Albaicín.

His perfect lower lip pouted in the sunlight. Slight stubble roughed up his chin. His golden hair fell into his eyes. And his broad chest was right there, right in front of me.

And then he smiled. Was that an invitation?

I couldn’t take it anymore. I answered his question.

“Probably something like this.” And I reached up, pulled down his head, and kissed him.

Fuck.

I. Kissed. Him.

I couldn’t help it. I knew he wanted to wait, to make sure I wanted more than his body, but with him right here? I needed him.

How had his kiss changed in four years?

As soon as I did it, I got scared that I shouldn’t. But I needn’t have worried. Because while I started it with a gentle touch, he immediately took over, his arms clasping me tight. His tongue swiped inside my mouth, and I tasted fruit punch Mentos. His hands slid down to grip my ass, and he set me up on a low wall, just like all those years ago in the pizza parlor.

Then my hands were in his hair, tugging it, pulling me to him like I was devouring him from the inside. I ravaged his mouth, giving him everything I could.

I pulled back. “I’m sorry, Trent. I know you said you wanted to wait.”

“Don’t be sorry for kissing me. I’d always be kissing you if I could.”