And Then There Was Victor

Chapter 35

We had napped after our showers, Victor on the sofa and me on the bed, a long lazy siesta that had us waking up around seven and the island shifted, ready for the night. At first, I was going to manhandle my hair, but I decided to allow do what it wanted if we were going dancing the night air would ruin whatever I attempted to do.

I slipped on a red dress and strappy heels, dabbing lipstick and perfume. I looked way better than before, I looked pretty. At least I thought so. I should tell Victor tonight and maybe, maybe if he felt the same this would be the most amazing vacation of my life.

He exited the bathroom with a pair of pressed slacks and a perfectly fitted white guayabera, he looked truly old school Caribbean and he had a slight tan from earlier. I had to look away, he was so beautiful, and he didn't even know it.

"You look nice," he said. "Beautiful."

I fought the urge to throw myself in his arms, so I settled for a tight smile.

"I'm hungry." Smooth.

He laughed and nodded. "Yeah, how about some churrasco? Mofongo?"

Both bad ideas, both were bathed in garlic. Then again, I could use that as a lovely excuse to not tell him anything.

"Mofongo, stuffed with shrimp!"

His brows furrowed and he nodded. "Oh yeah, c'mon Becky-girl!"

He parked the jeep in front of a small restaurant by the sea called El Callejon, it meant The Alleyway, music was blasting and there was an outside seating area. We saw couples dancing bachata and I was relieved because I could dance bachata quite well, Yara had taught me. Still, I was petrified of it, mostly because it was sex in the form of a dance.

We were shown to a table by an old man, he smiled at us and rattled off the specials which included mofongo. We ordered two big piña coladas and I sipped at the sugary concoction while we watched couples dance to Elvis Crespo. The synchronized movements almost hypnotic, the hops, the dips, and turns.

"Perdon, estan juntos?" A young man was standing by us and both Victor and I turned to him. He was looking from Victor to me, his hand slightly held out to me.

"No," I answered, furiously blushing. I watched as Victor glanced at me then back at the guy with his jaw set tight. It wasn't a lie. We weren't together, together, not like that. I had the right to go for a dance, I didn't want to, but I could.

"Actually, let's dance," Victor suddenly stood, and I almost dropped my piña colada. He held out a hand to me and I took it, letting him pull me to the small intimate dancefloor on wooden boards. Then I was flush against his chest, covered with his scent as we blended with the small crowd.

"I didn't like that guy," he said.

He looked down at me and I almost saw something, but I didn't dare hope anything. I simply held on to his hand as he turned me. The music was fast and catchy and before I knew it I was actually having fun. He turned me expertly and I stopped thinking of what my feet needed to do and simply danced. He was smiling at me and my heartfelt it would burst, pressed against him as it was, we were a couple. To the world, we were a couple.

"You dance merengue way better," he caught me from a turn.

"I know, it's easier," I said.

We were slightly sweating by the time we made it back to our table and our mofongo was waiting for us. It was a mountain of fried plantains pounded on a mortar with fried pork skin, garlic and salt. Poured over the ball of plantain was shrimp in a savory red creole sauce. It was amazing.