Edward’s face went from playful and
relaxed to pale and expressionless in 1.2 seconds.
Bet your ability to ruin his day is faster than his car’s
acceleration rate, genius!
He rubbed the heels of
his hands against his eyes and took a deep breath. When he looked at me again
he seemed sad.
“I could answer that to
you, but you probably won’t believe me anyway…so why don’t you ask Eva instead,
love?”
“Ask me what, Edward?”
Eva was standing
between us near the table, with a tray on her hands and an amused look in her
face. It was obvious she had some idea
of what we were talking about so there was no use in lying.
“Bella wants to know
how many women I had brought here, Eva”, he said, his tone was patient but
somehow had an edge of tiredness.
Eva cracked up
laughing, slightly throwing her head back in her amusement, but still managing
to hold the tray perfectly balanced.
“Oh, let’s see”, she
stepped closer to the table and started sorting out the food, putting several
plates and a mug of coffee in front of each of us. All the while making a show of counting and
mumbling things to herself. When she
finished serving the food, she put the tray under her arm and stared at me.
“The answer is simple,
cielo. You’re the first woman I’ve ever seen
with Edward. I’d have thought he was a monk…or gay”
Her laugh echoed like
bells through the room. Edward groaned
and that seemed to amuse her even more.
“Aw, don’t look at me
like that, cariño!” she said to him lifting his chin with her hand. “I know that you’re not gay, not that I have
anything against them either, but seriously boy! I’ve seen you turn down more
girls that I cared to count along the years. Especially after playing the
piano”
Edward appeared
embarrassed as she walked away.
“Piano?”
“Sometimes I play when
I'm stressed. Playing the piano seem to relax me in a way no other thing does”
He looked unsure,
vulnerable. I didn’t know what to do to make him feel better, sadly he had the
gift to always tell me what I needed to hear but I couldn’t find a way to
return the favour.
“I’d like to listen you
play sometime”
“I’m not sure you’d
like it, love…I play old jazz standards, songs you wouldn’t even recognize”
“You like old music” I
didn’t know I was telling that to him or to me, there was a hint of longing in
my words. I wished I could have something to love the way he seemed to love his
music, something non-work related to find solace in when my days weren’t the
best.
We both started eating
our breakfast in silence.
“The music…” he said
after a while, “it reminds me of my grandfather. Pops loved jazz and he was a big
Elvis fan”, he said chuckling.
“He had this huge
collection of 45 rpm records and we used to play them for hours…He would tell
me stories about the artists or the times he’d seen a particular Big Band. He
used to tell me: ‘this is part of your education, runt, there’s not way a lass
you like will ever tell you no if you woo her properly with some sweet music’”
“Guess I ruined your
grandpa’s theories”
“Not so fast, lass… It's not over till the last card is played. He also taught me
that some bonnie lasses were very hard to get, but those were the ones worth
the effort”
I looked at him and
couldn’t repress my smile, he was back to being playful and flirty. I was
starting to think that I was enjoying his attention too much, but there was
nothing I could do about it: the man seemed to attract me like a moth to the
flame.
When his mood lightened
up, I really began enjoying the food Eva had served me.
Jeez! Edward was right!
Even a little cold, it was the best coffee I had in years! And the muffins and
scones were to die for!
I might have been
eating with more enthusiasm than courtesy allowed, cause Edward was staring
at me with his signature smirk on his lips.
Eva came back to refill
our cups and brought us two plates with something that looked like custard and
small glasses of a clear orange liquid.
Edward must have
recognized the treats cause his face was the one of a kid on Christmas morning.
“I thought you’d like
something sweet before you left”, she said with a knowing smile.
I had the feeling he
came to this Coffee Shop when he needed to be pampered and I doubted the owners
had any problem with that arrangement. They both seemed to treat him as if he were
family; there was a warmness in Eva’s ways that told me she really cared about
him.
“This, my dear, is
‘flan’”, she said pointing at the custard-thing “and my mother would have
kicked me if I'd served it to you without the appropriate glass of ‘Embrujo
Andaluz’”
I stared at the food
with distrust while Eva left snickering and Edward could barely keep his face
straight.
“I take it as Pink
Ladies are not big fans of trying new things, love?”
I nodded blushing. He
was already shoving that flan-thing in his mouth with delight.
Then he did what I
wasn’t expecting, he offered me a spoonful of his flan.
The spoon an inch of my
mouth and his compelling gaze on me, I opened and let him feed me.
Oh, boy! It was
delicious! So creamy and soft…it’s velvety texture melting in my mouth.
I moaned and he
groaned, his deep green eyes fixed on my lips.
I’m not sure how we
managed to finish our dessert. The sexual tension in the air was so thick I
felt exposed having such an intimate moment in public.
The liquor was smooth;
with a bittersweet taste of oranges and maybe some spice I couldn’t pin-point.
Edward explained to me that the name meant ‘spell’ and it was supposed to
captivate you, put you under the magic charms of the region of Spain where Eva
was born.
I thought that Eva was
a sneaky gypsy who was trying to put me under a spell, but not exactly the same
one Edward had described. More like under the spell of a certain green-eyed
creature in ripped jeans and leather jacket across the table.
We said our goodbyes
and decided to take a stroll along the boardwalk.
The conversation
quickly went back to our first topic, but we’d already had breakfast, so I
guessed it was ok to ask again.
“Are you going to
explain me now what I did wrong with my outfit?”
“You’re not gonna let
it go, right?” he asked grimacing and I shook my head.
“Oh, well, if you’re
gonna be stubborn…”
He looked at my shoes
and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Bella, sweets, how did
you think that a pair of Nike Air Max would help you with the ratty image?”
I shrugged.
“But you said sneakers,
Edward! These are sport shoes!”, I defended flapping my hands in the general
direction of my feet “And they’re the only ones I own…I bought them once when
Alice got us memberships in a nearby gym, but I stopped going after a few
classes…”
Please, don’t ask why…
please don’t ask why, I chanted in my head, but he appeared more confused by
the fact I didn’t own ratty sneakers, so he spared me the gym debacle
explanation.
“Not even a pair of
chucks?”
I shook my head no and
he sighed.
“Let’s discuss the
blazer, then. Why not an oversized sweat shirt, a hoodie or leather jacket?”
I proceeded to describe
Alice
“Why don’t you lock
your door to avoid that best friend of yours with no respect for your privacy get anywhere near your things?”
he said aghast.
I had the feeling that
trying to explain my relationship with Alice to him would be a hard task, so I
said with a resigned tone “My bedroom door has no lock, and it’s not like I
have anything to hide from Ali…I don’t really own anything I’d want to keep for
sentimental reasons…”
We stopped walking and
I stared at the floor; he cupped my chin and made me look at him. There was
tenderness in his eyes again.
“Bella…what am I going
to do with you, love…?”
He held me to his body
and I rested my head on his shoulder, he let go after a few minutes.
“Look at my boots and
tell me what you see”
“Uhm…that they’ve seen
better days…?”, I replied hesitantly and made him chuckle.
“Now look at my jacket”
I ran my hand over the
soft leather. It felt nice, worn and inviting.
“Now tell me: do you
think I manage a casino dressed like this?”
“I guess not…”
“No, I don’t. My
clothes are worn ‘cause the casinos are work, but when I’m not working I like
being me. Do you know even who the real Bella is, love? What does Bella like to wear
when she’s not working?”
I stared at him
blankly. He was right. I had no idea who the real Bella was, I always had tried
to be the Bella others wanted, never putting much attention in what I really
wanted or needed.
“Do you like leather
jackets, love?”
“I think…” I remembered
the way his jacket felt under my fingers and I couldn’t help a smile.
“Yes. I definitely like
leather jackets”, I said convinced. For some reason that discovery made me feel
giddy.
“Come on”, he said
pulling my arm, “We have leather jackets to buy and Pink Ladies Foundational
Statements to disgrace”
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