“Búscame” 2.8 (English)
Part 2 - Andreas
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“Búscame”
The confession hit me dead center. I shoved him. Hard.
“Shut up,” I said, almost spitting. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Andreas.”
My voice sounded harsher than I recognized. He tried to speak. I saw his mouth open, the hesitation. I didn’t let him.
I turned and left. I don’t know if I ran or walked, only that I got away. I got home. I went straight to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Cold water ripped the heat from my skin. I scrubbed my arms, my chest, my face. I wanted to erase.
I came out and dropped onto the bed, still wet, cold.
I stared at the ceiling. The stone. I thought of Andreas. Of Adriana. Of my parents.
I closed my eyes, but my own breathing was louder than everything.
I didn’t sleep.
*
The day began too bright for everything we were carrying. Glare poured through the windows. The house smelled of salt, damp clothes, dawn.
My parents had gone out early to buy fish for ceviche. Music floated in the room, old, misplaced. One of those songs that seem to be always there, and you don’t remember when they began. “Donde haya un sol… donde se acabe el mar.”
Andreas appeared in the doorway. Hair rumpled. Eyes heavy with sleep. “Can I come in?” he asked, barely moving his lips.
I nodded.
He closed the door, sat beside me on the bed, and pulled off his T-shirt. The mattress dipped under his weight. Our arms brushed. Nothing else.
The clock read 7:07. The sunlight made us look more tired, exposed. He lay back, looking at the ceiling. I mirrored him. Heat from his body reached me in small waves. Fatigue. Sweat.
When he turned his face toward me, it wasn’t to speak. He looked into me. He drew a deep, quiet breath. I did too.
I noticed the mole beside his ear.
“Gae, I think we need to talk about last night,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” I managed.
“And now what?” he whispered, and touched my eyebrow with slow motion.
He came closer; his chest grazed mine. His head moved in. Our lips met. The kiss started soft, shaky, then grew. His hand held the back of my neck, like finding something lost. His mouth tasted familiar and new at the same time.
A tear slipped free. He held my face in both hands.
“It’s okay, Gae. What we’re doing is okay,” he said quietly.
He kissed me again, firmer this time, as if he wanted to erase any doubt left.
I looked at the clock.
“Wait—my parents. Hide in the bathroom.”
Still dazed, Andreas slipped into the bathroom.
“Gael, I forgot to buy limes,” my mom called, her voice ringing through the house.
She walked into the room while I struggled with my shirt.
“Son, what are you doing?” she asked, eyes fixed on me. “Why are your eyes red?”
The player gave a hard click.
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