Lessons in Gravity (Study Abroad #2) (14 page)

The Waiter with the Wandering Eye, as we call him, sets a heavy pour of red wine in front of me. I thank him, but like most men with two eyeballs and a penis, he ignores me and stares at Laura instead.

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re wearing pleather leggings,” Viv says. “You sure you don’t have a little crush on Uncle Javier? He’s really cute. Like,
really
.”

Rachel wrinkles her nose. “Uncle Javier? I didn’t know you were into older men, Maddie.”

I take a sip of my wine. God that’s good—a little spicy, deliciously fragrant. I came to Spain never really having drunk wine. We started drinking it because it was the cheapest thing on the menu—cheaper even than water. A couple months later, and now I’m totally obsessed.

“Javier is twenty four,” I say. “Not much older than us. And I already did some ‘research’ with him, as you ladies call it, a couple weeks back. Which of course means I
don’t
have a crush on him.”

“Why? Was it bad?” Katie nibbles on a triangle of manchego cheese. “The boning-slash-research, I mean.”

I take a long pull of wine, a pleasant tingle in the back of my knees beginning to stir. “No. It was good. Really good, actually. But he’s into this other girl, and I’m—well. I don’t go back for seconds. It was definitely just a one night stand.”

“A one night stand? Really?” Rachel says. “From what you’re telling me, this guy is not only super hot, he’s super nice, too. I mean. He was a great lay, he’s in a band,
and
he’s helping you with your thesis? What’s not to like? If I were you, I’d be seriously crushing on this hombre, whether or not he’s digging someone else.”

“Javier got drunk and told me he’s ‘looking for love’.” I curl my fingers into air quotes. “I’m looking for orgasms. Two completely different things.”

Viv tilts her head. “Are they really?”

“For me they are, yes.”

“Orgasms are the best,” Laura says, holding up her glass. “I had three this morning.”

“Three!” We clink glasses. “That soccer stud of yours has a gift.”

“The man’s got magic hands. And a magic tongue, now that I’m thinking about it.”

Ever since the start of the semester, Laura’s had this thing for a star soccer player on the Madrid team. “It’s the man bun,” she said. “I have a weakness.”

She also has balls. When she saw said footballer at a bar a couple months back, she had just enough liquid courage to go up to him and say hello. They’ve been fuck buddies ever since.

“Well,” Rachel takes a long pull of wine, “best of luck on your thesis, Maddie. I know you’ve been stressing about it lately. I have no doubt this monastery place is going to be the break you’ve been waiting for.”

“Let’s hope so,” I say. “Can you believe we have, like, a month left in Spain? It’s flown by.”

“Hard to believe we
wanted
it to fly by at the beginning of the semester,” Vivian says. “Remember what a head case I was? I couldn’t speak the language, I was failing my classes. I just wanted to go back home.”

“And now you’re staying another semester in Madrid,” I say. “A whole year in Spain. Good for you.”

Viv smiles. “It’s not too late for you sign up for the spring semester, you know. The deadline is the first week of December.”

“Trust me, there’s nothing more I’d rather do. With everything going on back home—well, let’s just say I’ve enjoyed being a world away from all that shit. But I’ve gotta get back to Atlanta to check up on everyone, especially my mom. My parents are trying to sell the house, and we have to start packing it up. Plus I don’t think my dad is going to pay for me to spend another semester here. I mean, I’d love to come back for grad school when I’m on my own dime. But until then, I don’t think I’ll be studying in Spain. Which means I have to cram as much research into the next month as I can. The clock is ticking on getting my thesis right.”

Katie wiggles her eyebrows. “Then let’s hope this Uncle Javier situation works out.”

I almost jump when my bag, hanging from the back of my chair, vibrates.

“Speaking of,” I say, digging out my phone. Not gonna lie, I thought Javier might’ve forgotten about me; I haven’t heard from him since I saw him last weekend at the Monastery.
 

Buenas noches, Maddie
. My heart does this weird fluttery thing as I read the message from Uncle Pervy.
I hope u r still up for band practice 2nite? I can pick u up.

I’m actually out with some friends for a quick glass of vino,
I text back.
I can just take the Metro and meet u there?

He responds right away.

Don’t want u taking the Metro alone at nite. Tell me where u are and I’ll come get u.

I should’ve known Javier would be a gentleman—he’s been nothing
but
a total stud when it comes to manners and kindness—but still, his thoughtfulness takes me off guard.

“Anyone know the address here?” I say.

Rachel looks over her shoulder at the door. “We’re on—wait, I think I remember it—Conde de Aranda? Something like that. Why, dear friend, do you ask? Is this Uncle
hombre
of yours coming to join us?”

I roll my lips between my teeth to keep from smiling. “He’s coming to pick me up, actually. He has a car, so....”

“So,” Katie says. “That means you’re going to bone in the backseat?”

I let out a sigh of resignation. “I don’t go back for seconds, remember?”

Vale
, I reply. I type out the address.
Thank u very much 4 coming 2 get me.

I’ll be there in 30,
he replies.
Thank u for coming.

For the next twenty-five minutes I can’t sit still. The girls chat about their plans for the weekend—a trip to the Royal Palace, some clubbing—and we moan about a bullshit paper due Friday in our cultural experience class.

“Whoa,” Laura says, looking over my shoulder out the restaurant windows. “Mads, is that him?”

My pulse drums in my ears as I turn around in my seat.
 

A sinister black Range Rover is pulled up in front of the restaurant, its headlights cutting a lane of yellow through of the darkness. I can hear the hum of the engine, that throaty, slightly threatening rumble.

The light inside the truck is on. A guy is bent over the passenger seat, digging something out of the glove compartment.

His mints. The cinnamon Altoids, the ones that smell like him.

He sits up on his seat and turns his head. His eyes latch onto mine.

My blood jumps, a tingly leap.

Oh, it’s Javier all right.

And he is even more handsome-hot than I remember. Hotter even than he was in the videos I took of him playing guitar. The videos I may or may not have replayed a few—er, more than a few—times since this weekend.
 

He holds up his palm in greeting, a tin of Altoids tucked between his thumb and forefinger. A small smile curves at the edges of his mouth. His stubble—his dimple things—the slick hipster wave of his hair—they are out in full force.

“Ho-ly
shit
,” Rachel breathes. “Maddie, if you don’t want him, I’ll take him. Gladly.”

I slide out of my chair, tucking my hair self-consciously behind my ear.

“I’ll see you guys in class tomorrow,” I say.

Katie shakes her head. “I sincerely hope we
don’t
see you in class. Because you’re still tied to Uncle Javier’s bed, obviously. Vaya con Dios, amiga.”
Go with God, my friend.

“Not gonna happen!” I call over my shoulder.

***

Javier

Maddie’s face is flushed from the cold as she climbs into my truck. I look and see her girlfriends staring at me—us—through the windows of the restaurant. I offer them a smile. They turn away, giggling.

“Hola,
Maddie,” I say.

She meets my eyes. “Hola,” she replies. “Qué tal?”
How are you?

“I’m very well, thanks,” I say. “How about you?”

“Sorry about them.” She nods at her table of friends. “They were very intrigued by Uncle Pervy.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Turning my head, I lean toward her and brush my lips against her cheeks. I bite back a grin when she shivers, digging her hands into the pockets of her huge puffer jacket. I can smell the red wine on her lips, a spicy, sweet scent.

I’m inundated by a warm awareness of her body. Its shape. The way it moves. The nervous excitement running through it, making her ever so slightly jumpy.

The way my body responds to it, her body. The desire that curls between my thighs. I shift in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable.

I’ve been looking forward to this evening all week. I’m excited to play with the band, of course.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized my excitement had a lot to do with Maddie.
Her
excitement is contagious, and even if I was a bit annoyed at first to have her tagging along, now I’m happy to help her. Turns out she’s an absolute joy to be around. I loved watching her fall for the monastery, a place
I
fell for years ago. I loved that she loved my new band. I loved how she danced to our music and laughed with Leo. I am all too eager to have her at practice again. If she were a part of this new life I’m building here in Madrid—which she’s not, obviously—she’d fit in with my crew pretty well. I dig that about her.

I don’t
dig
her
dig her, of course. Whether or not she’d fit in in my life here, she has no interest in being a part of it. I may be looking for my happily ever after, but she told me point blank she isn’t. And I’ve had my sights set on María Carmen for so long—I’ve thought about her so often—I know there’s no better girl for me.

Maddie is fire. Hot to the touch, wild. Unpredictable. I’ve been burned by girls like her before. I’ve learned my lesson the hard way.

I don’t want fire. I want comfort. Connection. Things I know a girl like Carmen is capable of sharing with me, her bougie boyfriend aside.

But judging by the tent I’ve just pitched in my pants, my traitorous dick begs to differ. Today I woke up with raging morning wood—I don’t know why, I felt like I was fifteen again—so I climbed in the shower and began to rub one out. Lately I’ve been concocting some explicit fantasies about Carmen’s curvaceous body, so I thought I’d revisit one or two of them.

But when I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the cool tile, I didn’t see Carmen.

I saw Maddie. The sated look in her deep blue eyes as she surrendered to her orgasm again and again and again. Her strident confidence in bed. How she met me stroke for stroke, how unafraid she was to say what she wanted; how unafraid she was to take it.

Take me. And I gave to her, willingly.

I saw her smile, the way her eyes lit up, as she clapped to the beat of my newest song.

My orgasm hit me like a ton of bricks. When the shockwaves subsided, I felt so guilty for thinking about Maddie instead of Carmen, and so fucking confused—I don’t want Maddie, and she doesn’t want me—I turned the spigot all the way to the right and let the water singe my skin. A punishment, I guess, for indulging in another dead end with another girl who isn’t right for me.

Another girl who has no interest in who I am or what I want.

“I hope this wasn’t too far out of your way,” Maddie says.

I blink, the dark interior of my truck materializing around me.

It was pretty far, actually—with traffic, an extra twenty minutes or so—but I don’t mind. It bothers me, thinking about the weirdos and the drunks on the Metro giving her a hard time. I have no doubt Maddie can take care of herself. Still. It makes me feel better knowing she’s safe with me. Plus it’s freezing outside, and taking my car is a much warmer route than the Metro.

“Not at all,” I say, chewing through the mints I just put in my mouth. “I’m always happy to come grab you. Keep you out of the cold a bit longer. Being from Georgia, I bet this weather is something of a shock.”

“It’s freaking ridiculous,” she says. As if to drive her point home, she shivers again. “The heat feels delicious. A little red wine buzz doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Nothing quite like a good vino
buzz,” I say. “A warm liquid blanket is necessary in Madrid this time of year.”

“I brought my big camera.” She glances at her bag. “María Carmen and I have been emailing this week. Apparently she has more influence than she let on—she got me permission to take photographs of the church. I’d like to take some of the band, too, if that’s all right with you?”

Reaching up, I turn off the light. I shift into first gear. “Of course it’s all right. As long as you don’t mind making a quick stop at my flat. I’ve been at the airport all day—my plane needed some work—and I need to grab my guitar.”

“Your plane!” she says. “That’s right. You have a freaking plane. As if being Madrileño and playing in a band weren’t cool enough, you’re also a pilot.”

I shrug. “My dad was a big aviation geek—he passed on his love of flying to me. I love it, I do. It’s very relaxing up there. Peaceful. Kinda neat to see Madrid from another angle, you know?”

“I bet it’s so, so cool. You’re lucky you get to go up whenever you want. Madrid is so beautiful from the ground—I can’t imagine how gorgeous it is from above.”