Read Online Spain or Shine by Michelle Jellen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michelle Jellen
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back and forth around the bar like a game of checkers. They started cautiously with dishes that looked familiar and unthreatening, sautéed mushrooms and bacon, cheeses, olives, and pan con tomateâ bread with tomatoes.
The female half of the Spanish couple theyâd followed to the bar introduced herself to everyone as Arrosa. She was friendly even though no one in the group spoke Spanish particularly well.
âUsted debe tratar éstos,â she said, pointing to what looked like it might be stuffed squid. Elena kept quiet, but she was surprised how well Alex and Chris were able to communicate with the Spanish couple. With Arrosaâs guidance, the whole group soon began to venture into the unknown, popping morsels into their mouths that they didnât recognize and couldnât pronounce.
âYou should try the ham, too,â a woman with a French accent leaned over to say. âItâs their specialty.â Elena hoped they wouldnât pull one of the hams from the ceiling and slice it up in front of her.
She tried a timid bite of some ham from a plate in front of her. âOh, thatâs really good. Thanks for the suggestion.â
Most of the people at the bar had a dish to recommend or a story to tell. Elena was beginning to realize that the whole tapas bar experience was as much about the company as it was about the food.
âI think Iâm ready to move on,â Jenna said, after theyâd been at the bar for about an hour.
âHow come? Arenât you having fun?â Elena asked, raising her voice to compete with the growing chorus of voices around them.
âYeah, but the whole point is to hit several different places. We have to be home by midnight, right? So I think itâs time to move on.â Jenna took another sip of her purpley-red sangria. Elena had a similar glass with hunks of fruit bobbing in it, though sheâd hardly had any of it. It was too sweet, and the smell of wine and cinnamon made her dizzy, so she just took small sips now and then to seem agreeable.
âThat Spanish couple at the bar told me of a cool place to go, a localsâ place,â Marci suggested, barely concealing the pride she took in one-upping Jenna in the competition to find the coolest place in town.
Alex and Chris squeezed through the cramped bar, while Elena and the other girls grabbed hands to form a human chain so that they wouldnât get separated. They all spilled out into the street in front of the restaurant.
Marci led them past several discos where TrikitixasâBasque pop musicâcame thundering out into the street whenever the doors opened. They wandered out toward the cathedral at the edge of the old section of town, and stopped in front of a restaurant that had a Basque sign mounted above the door by rusty nails.
âThis is it; Iâm sure of it,â Marci said. She opened the door to an inviting, lively place. The lighting was soft and rosy, and flamenco guitar played live in the back of the restaurant. They walked up to the bar, and Elena took her time looking over the array of choices. Finally she leaned into the bar and stretched out to grasp the rim of a plate of prosciutto rollsâmelon and figs wrapped in thin cured ham. She pulled the plate toward her and felt a tap on her shoulder.
As she started to turn, her eyes fell on the profile of a Spanish boy several paces down the bar. She couldnât help but pause midmotion. It was like stumbling upon a treasure at a yard saleâa beautiful surprise. He was taller and more muscular than most of the Spanish boys sheâd seen and his face was leading-man perfect. For a moment the only sound she could hear was her own heart thumping inside her chest. Then he turned and looked right at her. She glanced away quickly as a rush of blood filled her cheeks.
She felt the tap on her shoulder again and turned to answer Jenna. When Elena looked up again, the boy was gone. It seemed no
The female half of the Spanish couple theyâd followed to the bar introduced herself to everyone as Arrosa. She was friendly even though no one in the group spoke Spanish particularly well.
âUsted debe tratar éstos,â she said, pointing to what looked like it might be stuffed squid. Elena kept quiet, but she was surprised how well Alex and Chris were able to communicate with the Spanish couple. With Arrosaâs guidance, the whole group soon began to venture into the unknown, popping morsels into their mouths that they didnât recognize and couldnât pronounce.
âYou should try the ham, too,â a woman with a French accent leaned over to say. âItâs their specialty.â Elena hoped they wouldnât pull one of the hams from the ceiling and slice it up in front of her.
She tried a timid bite of some ham from a plate in front of her. âOh, thatâs really good. Thanks for the suggestion.â
Most of the people at the bar had a dish to recommend or a story to tell. Elena was beginning to realize that the whole tapas bar experience was as much about the company as it was about the food.
âI think Iâm ready to move on,â Jenna said, after theyâd been at the bar for about an hour.
âHow come? Arenât you having fun?â Elena asked, raising her voice to compete with the growing chorus of voices around them.
âYeah, but the whole point is to hit several different places. We have to be home by midnight, right? So I think itâs time to move on.â Jenna took another sip of her purpley-red sangria. Elena had a similar glass with hunks of fruit bobbing in it, though sheâd hardly had any of it. It was too sweet, and the smell of wine and cinnamon made her dizzy, so she just took small sips now and then to seem agreeable.
âThat Spanish couple at the bar told me of a cool place to go, a localsâ place,â Marci suggested, barely concealing the pride she took in one-upping Jenna in the competition to find the coolest place in town.
Alex and Chris squeezed through the cramped bar, while Elena and the other girls grabbed hands to form a human chain so that they wouldnât get separated. They all spilled out into the street in front of the restaurant.
Marci led them past several discos where TrikitixasâBasque pop musicâcame thundering out into the street whenever the doors opened. They wandered out toward the cathedral at the edge of the old section of town, and stopped in front of a restaurant that had a Basque sign mounted above the door by rusty nails.
âThis is it; Iâm sure of it,â Marci said. She opened the door to an inviting, lively place. The lighting was soft and rosy, and flamenco guitar played live in the back of the restaurant. They walked up to the bar, and Elena took her time looking over the array of choices. Finally she leaned into the bar and stretched out to grasp the rim of a plate of prosciutto rollsâmelon and figs wrapped in thin cured ham. She pulled the plate toward her and felt a tap on her shoulder.
As she started to turn, her eyes fell on the profile of a Spanish boy several paces down the bar. She couldnât help but pause midmotion. It was like stumbling upon a treasure at a yard saleâa beautiful surprise. He was taller and more muscular than most of the Spanish boys sheâd seen and his face was leading-man perfect. For a moment the only sound she could hear was her own heart thumping inside her chest. Then he turned and looked right at her. She glanced away quickly as a rush of blood filled her cheeks.
She felt the tap on her shoulder again and turned to answer Jenna. When Elena looked up again, the boy was gone. It seemed no
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