“Yes, I guess.” Eva gives me a weak smile.
I’m suddenly sorry that I dismissed her tale with such bold words. It’s clearly something that has been part of Eva’s belief system. It might be even the cornerstone of why she has been so afraid to open up to me. “I imagine it was your mother’s way to protect you, right? She didn’t want you to fall into the same trap as she did with your father. Thank you for letting me peek at such a personal memory of yours.”
“Yes, it was Mom’s attempt to ensure I wouldn’t suffer like she did. And no thanks necessary. I spent the past hour gossiping about your mischiefs with your aunt, so it’s only fair that you hear about some of my secrets.” Her eyes fill with warmth, then as if she just remembered something, she taps her forehead. “Didn’t you say you had something special you wanted me to try?”
Ah, yes, my climbing wall. I almost forgot about my surprise.
I hug Eva’s waist and pull her with me, suddenly brewing with the anticipation. “Come, Eva, we need to take the elevator for that.”
Our skin contact has the immediate effect of heating my blood and making my body aware of each cell that was lucky enough to touch Eva.
When we get to the elevator, I release her and press the call button. While we wait for it to arrive, Eva plays with a lock of her hair, while I’m ordering my whirling sensations into some sizable bites.
But there’s one I can’t seem to get my head around. It’s the wish that invaded my chest when Eva spoke about her Mujer Sin Alma. I wanted to convince Eva that it’s much better to believe in a princess tale like Cinderella than in a monster who would come from the darkness to feed on her soul. I wished for Eva to believe that real fairy-tale endings exist.
Which is absurd, given that I don’t believe in happily-ever-afters. So why do I want to demonstrate for Eva something I don’t have faith in? What’s happening to me?
The elevator bell interrupts me before I can answer to this impending question.
All the better. I have done enough soul-searching for a lifetime today. I don’t need to get any more confused than I already am. Now, all we need to do is have some fun.
In my realm this time.
Chapter 22
(Eva)
“No, there is no way I’m trying this!” I squeak, pushing aside the pair of climbing shoes Nathan holds out.
His innocent question from last night, when he asked me what shoe size I wear, gains a whole new significance as I blink around in his giant private gym.
It’s located in the underground level of his condo, and it’s huge. Really, the place could host several large teams of climbing aficionados and still come across as half-empty. One corner is packed with rings, chin up bars, and other weird equipment, but the rest is a zen-like free space mapped with soft cushioning mats. Crush pads—as Nathan called them. The whole room might even be inviting, given that it also smells amazing—citrusy and clean—if it weren’t for the grey, textured-surface concrete walls with the steep indentions and intimidating protrusions all over the place.
My wandering gaze stops on the climbing wall, which must be like fifty-five feet—enough for anyone to live out their Ninja Warrior fantasies.
Nathan grins at me with a don’t-be-such-a-scared-little-girl look in his eyes. “Eva, that’s not the one I’m proposing. I use that one, either for highballing or lead climbing. Both would be too much for you.” He points at a fifteen-foot wall that slopes slightly toward the ground.
Some of the grips are grey to mimic the conditions of an outdoor rock, but the majority of the handles are brightly painted, the shades so eye-catchingly crisp I imagine I can almost smell the fresh paintwork.
“What about this small bouldering wall?” he asks.
Small? It still looks giant to me. But instead of admitting this, I say, “What’s bouldering exactly?”
“It’s like free climbing. No ropes, no harness, but you do it at a safe distance from the ground. It’s the best way to get into this sport. You don’t need anything else except chalk for your hands and proper shoes.” He swings the pair in his hand. “And we’ve got both.”
“I’m not even dressed right.”
Nathan doesn’t seem fazed by my comment. “You wanted to see where I live. Well, this here”—he waves around—“is my favorite part of the house. It’s also the place I spend most of my time when I’m at home.”
My strained expression softens. “Then I’m glad we are here. But I can’t climb anything in this dress.”
“Of course you can’t. That’s why I’ll lend you a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. What do you say? Come on, it’ll be fun.”
His smile and enthusiasm are contagious. Though I’m not convinced that bouldering is anywhere in the range of my capabilities, I feel a sudden anticipation to give it a go. After all, he already immersed himself in my world of salsa. Perhaps I can do the same with what he likes to do.
“Okay, why not? Where are the clothes you’re going to loan me?”
After ten minutes, I’ve changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, using a dressing room equipped with a large sauna, steam room, and Jacuzzi.
I shoot a quick glance into the mirror and reach for the hem of my T-shirt. Perhaps I could tie a knot in front of my belly to reduce its tent-like character somewhat, and prevent the baggy white fabric from disturbing me in my movements while climbing.
As I twist the material, a familiar scent tickles my nostrils. Mhmm, it smells like him. Woody and masculine. Suddenly, I don’t mind that it’s oversized, because having Nathan’s cologne enveloping my body sends my molecules into an ecstatic buzz.
Nathan is doing pull ups on two
