Astromantic Sunday (Domingo astromántico)

Astromantic Sunday

Every morning I woke up was like Three Kings Day. Every time I rolled over and saw him lying next to me, sometimes facing upward and snoring like a bad engine, sometimes facing the wall, sometimes facing me as he was this morning made my heart feel as though it could fly. I reached a finger out to run it down his forehead and nose, dipping it into his Cupid's Bow and along the line his lips formed, and down his stubbled chin. He didn't budge. It wasn't until my finger reached his navel that he opened his eyes to look at me, and gave me that smile that I lived for every day. The way his gaze bore into mine, the way his fingers found that one spot on my back that involuntarily arched it in ecstasy, and the way he used the force of his arms to pull me on top of him to share yet another moment of intimacy. The way his lips wrapped around mine as our bodies moved in perfect synchronization. Yes, every day with him was a gift.

He kissed me on the cheek as he slid out of bed to shower. I watched his muscles ripple and tense as he walked into the ensuite bathroom, turning to wink at me as I winked back and continued to lounge in bed, thinking of the day I didn't have to wake up for. A long day meeting with clients, showing lofts and mansions in Pedralbes, talking to sellers and banks, and filing paperwork. And despite myself, that evening I found myself catching a train to Terrassa to meet a guy. Despite myself, I agreed to a second date, and a third, and a fourth. Before I knew it, I was spending more time than I thought possible at his spacious house in the Vallès and was rushing to work every day in the same clothes as the day before. When I met his parents, I spent so much time talking to his father and brothers about real estate strategies and statistics that his mother joked that I was now part of the family if I could keep up with their talk. It was when they started talking about football that I zoned out, so I tried to help out his mother in the kitchen before getting shooed away.

Today was Sunday and we had no plans. He'd gotten back from a match in Málaga at one thirty that morning and I'd gone to pick him up at the airport. Despite his exhaustion, due to the team's victory he was ready for a quick romp in the sheets before passing out at my side. I didn't even realize I'd fallen asleep again when I smelled his body wash emanating off his taut skin and opened my eyes. Even though it was his lower body where his power was concentrated, I could still run a hand up and down his arms and felt the muscles that were tensed from resting on my bed, and the other hand grazed his toned chest. He was no David, that was certain, but I never asked for that in a man.

"So what's on the schedule for today?" he asked. I shrugged and laughed.

"I don't know. What do you want to do?"

"No idea."

"You mean to tell me that you don't spend any of your time wondering what to do on the off chance you end up with a day off?" I asked as I pulled him in for a kiss.

"Just spend time with you," he said when he'd pulled away.

"Mmm, you're cute," I replied. "I honestly wouldn't mind just staying in bed all day."

"I know you wouldn't," he laughed. His chocolate brown eyes danced in the sunlight that was creeping through the window.

"So does that mean you don't mind just staying here all day?" He laughed and his still wet hair painted a design on my forehead as he leaned close enough for our noses to touch.

"I wish. But I need to get out," he said, our noses still touching.

"You spend eighteen hours a day outside and you want to leave the house on your day off?"

"Crazy isn't it." He sat on the bed so he was facing out the window.

"Well, I also spend most of my time outside and I wouldn't mind staying in. What do you want to do then?" I shifted position in the bed till I was hugging my knees to my chest.

"A walk?"

"You hate walks. Too many people."

"Right. How about the beach?"

"Xavi. It's March."

"And? It means the only people there are tourists. And I know a beach where there are no tourists. Even this time of year."

"I'll take your word for it," I giggled as I crawled out of bed to shower.

"I'll be downstairs," he said as I closed the door behind me.

By the time I finished showering and had put on the dress I'd worn the day before I could smell Xavi's cooking wafting through the walls of the house. Thank God he was the cook. My mother had tried to get me into the kitchen to no avail, and even though I had my own apartment in Sants I still ate out most of the time, or made up some pasta with garlic and olive oil and called it a day. Xavi never expected me to do the cooking, so it worked. I hadn't fixed my hair but went downstairs anyway. He'd seen my hair at its frizzy worst and still kept me around so I didn't bother keeping up appearances. It was fun sharing a bathroom with him when he shaved anyway, since that was always the last part of his mornings. The five o'clock shadow suited him more than I cared to admit sometimes.

And there he was, in the spotless kitchen he only used when I was around, making breakfast.

"Hey there, beautiful," he said when he caught me walking into the adjacent dining room. I blushed. It was still hard for me to accept compliments.

"Hey," I replied, sitting down at the table. "What's on the menu?" As if on cue, he stepped out of the kitchen and walked towards me with two plates and sat down across from me. We ate in relative silence and then resumed our morning rituals upstairs in the bathroom before heading out to his "secret" beach.

We didn't realize how fast the wind was blowing until we stepped out of the car and made a descent along the rocky ledge towards the beach he'd taken us to. I guessed we were somewhere on the Costa Brava because of the rockiness of the shore, and there was hardly any sand to be found on the beach itself. Xavi placed the towels he'd retrieved from the back of the car on the rocks and yelled at me to sit down before mine blew away. I laid down and rolled myself up in it, and pulled myself in closer to him to keep warm. I hadn't thought to bring a hair tie, and my hair ended up dancing with the wind, contrasting with his which stayed put, the tips barely moving even in the gale force winds. With his right arm around me, only his left hand was free to keep pushing it out of my face.

I never could get tired of staring into his eyes. They laid bare my soul and I felt as though I could stare right into his. That I could read his thoughts, his feelings. And when he stared into mine, I felt that everything I knew, thought and felt was his. Forever. The fingers on his right hand kept brushing lightly against the back of my neck and shoulder as his palm cupped the back of my head. His left hand brushed lightly across my face and my own hands shook in the wind as they scrambled for his waist, making the final effort and grunting as his weight fell on me and his right arm came out from under my back leaving my head to fall onto the rocks.

"Sorry," he said quickly, but I ignored him. I just pulled him in tighter.

We didn't do anything besides lie there in silence together for a seemingly limitless moment, the wind making knots in my hair, the roar of the Mediterranean in front of us.

"Ainoa," he said finally.

"What?" I asked, looking into his two-colored eyes that I could lose myself in.

"I love you," he said. My heart skipped a beat and sank into my gut. It was the first time he'd said it. There was no way I couldn't respond. I knew it, felt it, too.

"I love you too," I replied, smiling. He pulled a towel in closer and tapped my nose with his finger, smiling as well. I thought my gut was going to burst with all the emotions I had inside of me, that I'd been feeling for months now. Feelings that culminated in that moment with him holding me between two beach towels on a chilly, windy afternoon in March on the Costa Brava.

"I love you and I don't know what I would do without you." I didn't remember who actually said it.