Translation of Love - By Alice Montalvo-Tribue Page 0,21
which I find endearing.
“Yes, she was so excited. She’s in Love!!!”
“Oh no,” he says with a chuckle.
“Yup, and according to her, she got a little smooch from you.”
“Next subject.” At that, I burst out laughing. For me, laughter is usually something that I force. Victor is easy to talk to and he has a way of pulling me out of my shell in a way that no one has been able to do before. I enjoy laughing with him. He brings out the silly, sarcastic side of me. I think I’ve missed that.
“I see how you are, making out with the fans and all that.”
“Nooo, no. It’s not like that.” I can hear from the tone of his voice that he’s smiling. “Some of them will ask for a hug or a kiss and I feel bad. They’ve stood in line for hours just to see me so I’ll give them a peck on the cheek. It’s completely innocent. I don’t wanna be a dick to them.”
“You don’t strike me as the dick-ish type.”
“Well, thanks, Babe.” Something stirs in me when he calls me that. It’s not like he’s trying it on for size. He says it like he means it. Like that one word has so much potential.
“You’re welcome. So, what are you up to?”
“I am looking over some paperwork, and I’ll be heading over to the recording studio in about an hour. How about you?”
“I’m making dinner.”
“Okay. I’ll let you go so you can eat. I’ll call you tomorrow?” It makes me smile that he asks for permission to call me. It makes me smile that, for once, I’m not overthinking my reply.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Alright. Good night, Love.”
“Good night.”
Victor disconnects the phone. I sit and stare at it for a while thinking about our conversation and how much I actually like talking to him. I finish making dinner and I eat in silence. For the first time in a very long time, I find myself wishing that I wasn’t eating alone. Can I really miss someone that I barely know? I push that idea out of my head. It’s a thought that I’m not ready to consider. Victor said that he would proceed with caution. Maybe that’s exactly what I needed to hear to be able to move forward with the notion of getting to know him better.
Without a doubt, this has been the longest week of my life. I’ve been going on autopilot, just running through the motions, for the past four days. Now that it’s Friday, I don’t know what to do with myself. Victor sent me a text message while I was at work letting me know that he was back in town and checked into the hotel. That message sent both a jolt of panic and a surge of excitement rushing through my system. It’s like everything having to do with him is a battle that wages inside of me. A fight between fear and a real desire to get to know him. Letting the desire win out takes a lot out of me but I promised myself that I would at least try to allow myself this, even if it’s just for a short while.
I made plans to meet Victor at his hotel. I’m tired from a long work week and the thought of going out to dinner tonight is not appealing to me. If someone would have told me a week ago that I would be volunteering to meet a hot guy in his hotel room, I would have thought they were crazy. Yet, here I am standing in a hotel elevator doing exactly that. The elevator dings, alerting me that I’ve arrived on the top floor. My heart rate spikes when the doors slide open. My feet are like cement blocks weighing me down. The fear is like a vine slowly wrapping around my limbs, keeping me rooted to my spot. I can tell it’s the beginning of a panic attack. I haven’t had one in so long, I’d forgotten how they felt. I do the breathing technique my old therapist taught me a few years back. Breathe in for three seconds, hold it for three seconds, release for three seconds. I do this a couple of times and slowly the panic starts to rescind. I regain control of myself and realize the elevator doors have closed. After a few more breaths, I push the button to open the doors again.
Moments later, I’m in front of Victor’s door, hoping that