Forever Baby (7 page)

I awake to the sound of music trickling in under my bedroom door. My heart races, knowing who’s playing the guitar on the other side of the door. My back is against Nolan’s front. I can hear his soft breathing as I rotate to face him. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Nolan opens his eyes and smiles. “What time is it?”

I grab my phone from the nightstand. “Six. Do you want to eat something before you go?”

Nadia’s family has a lady, Marie, who cooks and cleans for them. She usually comes to cook a large midday meal for Carlos and Nadia, which Nolan and I apparently missed because of our nap.

“I can warm up Marie’s lunch. I’ve heard her cooking is out of this world.”

“Sounds great. Just give me a second to wake up,” he says with a yawn.

I roll out of bed and grab my brush from the bathroom. Giving Nolan a moment, I tame my bed head with a few swipes of the brush and wipe the residual mascara from under my eyes. I exit the bathroom. “All right, lazybones. Let’s go.”

Nolan and I head into the kitchen, ignoring the four guys playing music in the living room. I warm up two plates and sit with Nolan at the breakfast bar. The music streams in through the thin swinging door separating the kitchen from the main room.

“They sound pretty good,” Nolan says between mouthfuls.

“Yeah, they are. I heard them play yesterday. They’re all friends of Carlos and Nadia. I guess they’ve gone to school together forever.”

“Right. We met them at the club that first night. Cool guys,” he says.

I’m momentarily surprised that Nolan seems to know more about these people than I do. He’s such a people person. Of course he got to know them.

After placing our dishes in the dishwasher, I follow Nolan into the main living area. He takes a seat in the armchair, and the only empty spot left is on the couch next to Andres. I sigh as I sit down, feeling totally uncomfortable. Andres starts playing a new song. I recognize the guitar intro, but I can’t immediately name the song. The music reminds me of something I remember my dad playing when I was young.

Andres starts singing. He sings of dreams, loss, and dust in the wind. I’m completely still. The hairs rise on my arms as goose bumps appear. Andres’s voice is so hauntingly beautiful. It emanates sadness. He closes his eyes, and I not only hear his voice, but I feel it. The passion of this song, his voice, the words resonate down to my core. I am mesmerized as I watch him sing as if he’s the only one in the room. An air of awkwardness passes over me. This experience brings a sense of intrusion along with it, like I’m invading a private moment. I know he is singing for everyone, but the way he sings this song leaves me feeling as if I were watching him without his knowledge. The way his emotions are pouring out through the lyrics, I sense that this song is personal for him, and I can’t help but wonder who it is in regard to.

As Andres strums the last note, I realize that I have tears running down my cheeks. I quickly move to wipe them away. Andres opens his eyes and peers right into mine. My breath hitches, and I stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to blink or avert my gaze. I think I see a deep emotion in him, sadness or hurt maybe. I can’t tell. The moment is fleeting. He blinks, and the expression is gone.

Nolan speaks first, “That was awesome, man. You’re really good. How long have you been playing?”

Andres faces Nolan and clears his throat. “Like, ten years or so, I guess.”

Hugo speaks to Nolan, “Our band, La Banda, plays at some local bars. You should come out some night. Plus, many totally hot chicks show up at these gigs. It’s awesome if you’re looking for that,” he says, giving Nolan a knowing smirk.

Nolan laughs. “I think I’m set with the girls, but I’d love to hear you guys play sometime.”

“Whatever, man, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you changed your mind. Seriously, totally hot chicks, dude. You’ll see,” Hugo states.

Nolan laughs again. “La Banda, huh? I hope you weren’t going for originality.” The name literally translates to The Band.

The guys all chuckle.

Andres answers, “Nope, that we weren’t.”

Carlos adds, “It’s easy to remember. You have to give us that.”

My body is positioned toward Andres as I follow the conversation. My knee brushes against Andres’s thigh, and I startle. Pounding emanates from my chest at the momentary contact between us. I see Andres’s body stiffen slightly, but he makes no other indication that he noticed.

The guys are heading out to a bar for the night, and they extend an invitation to Nolan and me. I decline, giving some excuse about a headache and needing sleep. I desperately want to avoid the awkward silence going on between Andres and me. Without much effort, Nadia is able to convince Nolan to go out with them.

Nolan leans in and kisses my cheek. “You sure you’re okay? I can stay here with you if you want me to.”

He’s so good to me.
I give him a hug.

“No. Go and have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I wave to everyone else and head to my room.

Falling to my bed, I exhale a deep breath. Having the house to myself is exactly what I need to process the thoughts bouncing around my head like an out-of-control pinball game. I need calmness to make sense of everything because all the confusion is causing me anxiety. I am unsettled when I need to be grounded to function.

Why do I have this irrational desire that keeps me longing for Andres?

Minutes pass by, and the chaos in my head isn’t close to coming to any order. Maybe I don’t need solitude. I should talk to someone. Normally, I would talk to Nolan, but for some reason, I can’t or won’t, and I don’t know why. It just doesn’t feel right this time. Cara is sound asleep back in Michigan, so that is a no-go.

Okay, focus. What is bothering me? Andres in general? No—at least, I don’t think so. Yeah, so he is not all that friendly with me. Am I upset because he doesn’t talk to me? I don’t know.
That makes me sound immature. He is not the first person in history not to like me. I can live with the fact that I’m not everyone’s friend. That would be unrealistic anyway.
Can I live with not being Andres’s friend? Yeah, sure.

I mean, no.

Yes.

I guess he’s not unfriendly to me. He’s simply indifferent. The indifference is killing me.
How can he be so controlled around me when I feel anything but?
The stark differences in our reactions to one another is making me feel disconnected—and to be honest, a little crazy.

Deep breaths.

What am I grateful for today? I don’t know.

My every thought goes to Andres from the way he looks to his voice to his smile and the way tingles run up my body when he laughs.
How can I be thankful for something I don’t have? Is that what is bothering me? Yes, of course. I need Andres. I do.

No, I don’t
. I don’t need someone who doesn’t want me. But I desperately want him to want me. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.

Why?
I barely know him and what I do know of him isn’t the most appealing. He is kind of an ass—at least to me.

A super-hot piece of ass.

The only thought that comes with any clarity is that I need to get over this funk. I am here in this awesome country for three more months. I need to soak in as much of it as I can. Pining over Andres isn’t going to help anything.
Why is it that the first time I feel such an intense attraction to someone, he has to be so unattainable and distant?
I have to figure out a way to be around him and not be so affected by him. He is obviously a constant in Nadia’s life, so avoiding him isn’t an option, but neither is feeling like this—so desperate.

I have to cast aside all the powerful sensations that come with Andres and become indifferent. I am no stranger to indifferent. I can do it.

I shoot Cara a text. I know she will be at work, but I need to send it nonetheless.

Me: Hung out with hottie again. Still no interest on his part. Whatevs. I’m over it. Moving on. #whoneedshim Miss you. xoxo

I don’t know if I feel better or worse as I read over my text to Cara. Seeing it in writing fills me with gloom because it feels more real, the idea that I must move on and get over this intrigue I have toward Andres. I let out a faint chuckle. This whole thing is absurd. Only I would need to recover from a relationship that never existed.

Cara and Nolan have always told me that I sabotage all of my potential relationships by being too distant or by creating issues to solve before the concern is even a reality. Part of me knows that problems in my previous relationships arise because I want to find a reason to end it before the guy finds one. I’m afraid to want someone and have them discover that I’m not who they thought I was, that I’m not enough for them. I’ve never experienced true heartache, yet I continue to do everything in my power to make sure that I don’t.

I know it doesn’t make sense, but for Andres I would try, regardless of how broken I was left in the end. I would try.

The next day mirrors the previous one with the exception that Nolan leaves right after our midday siesta. I hang out with Nadia until nightfall, and she won’t take no for an answer when she insists I go out with her and the guys.

I see that my life here is going to be a hectic barhopping extravaganza. I can’t say that my mom would be too pleased with how much I’m going out.
As long as I’m getting my homework done and learning something, it’s all good, right?
The way I see it, I’m immersing myself in the culture. After all, that’s why I’m here.

I really lucked out in getting Nadia as my roommate. Her daily routine of school, homework, and going out is right up my alley. Her love for getting dressed up and having a good time reminds me of Cara. I love it.

We head down the street to La Jolla again. I sit in between Hugo and Nadia and take part in friendly conversation, but the unease at the table—at least for me—is obvious. I have to wonder if anyone else notices that Andres and I never speak.

I’m annoyed.
Seriously, what is his problem with me? Would it hurt to make polite conversation?
Remember, indifferent. You are indifferent. Let it go.

I see a spark of recognition on the faces of Andres and Carlos as they sit across from me and peer over my shoulder. I turn my head to see a group of three, two guys and a girl, making their way toward our table. Nadia notices at this point as well, and she lets out a quiet sound of annoyance.

I tilt my body, leaning into her. “What?” I whisper.

“Nothing. Just not a fan,” she whispers.

“Of who?”

“The girl.”

I watch the girl shorten the distance to our table, and I can’t help but notice the almost primal stare she is directing toward us—no, not us. Her stare is solely meant for Andres. I study his reaction to the approaching girl, who is obviously on the prowl. He seems unaffected by her cutting gaze.

“Hey, guys,” the taller of the two men calls out, addressing everyone.

“What’s up, Ricardo? Haven’t seen you in a while,” Julio replies.

“Yeah, it has been a while,” Ricardo answers.

Greetings are exchanged between the newcomers and those at our table, and several conversations are going on at once.

Julio’s voice rises slightly as he speaks over the friendly chatter, “Hey, guys. This is Olivia. She is living with Nadia and Carlos for the summer.”

Ricardo and the second guy, who introduces himself as Christian, extend a warm greeting. The girl, who I now know is named Camila, gives a slight nod in my direction before she continues her conversation with Hugo and Andres. Ricardo and Christian pull up chairs to join us, and Camila squeezes in the booth next to Andres.

The night continues, and I learn that the three most recent additions to our table went to high school with the group, but they don’t attend the same university now. Christian has scooted his chair, so he is directly facing me, leaning his elbow on the table, while engaging me in all sorts of questions. He is cute and very friendly. I am relieved to have someone take my mind off the hushed conversation between Camila and Andres.
Yep, I’m not a fan of her either.

“So, Olivia, do you want to dance?” Christian asks.

I pause.
Do I want to dance with Christian? I don’t know. No, not really.

He seems like a great guy and all, but at this moment, dancing with him doesn’t sound appealing. The quiet conversation between Andres and Camila stops. I remember my promise to myself. This is a chance for me to be indifferent and move on.

Exhaling a deep breath, I reply, “Uh…yeah, sure.”

I look to Nadia, and she is smiling gently. I think she approves. She must like Christian more than she does Camila. That is a good sign.

Christian takes my hand and leads me to the small dance floor. As I follow Christian, I sneak a peek back at our table, and I am met with a familiar steel-blue stare. His eyes are locked on me, and the emotion they are emitting resembles anger. I question the irritation I see in Andres’s posture when Christian pulls me into a tight embrace.