Read Online Translation of Love by Alice Montalvo-Tribue - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alice Montalvo-Tribue
Tags: Contemporary
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find. I push these thoughts out of my head before the confusion grabs hold of me. I focus on what he’s just admitted to me.
“You were nervous?” I ask in a “yeah right” kind of tone.
“Yeah, I think maybe it was just the anticipation, driving down here earlier and then waiting for you to get here. Kind of did a number on my head.”
“Really?” I’m stunned by his admission.
He nodded his reply. “Then I saw your face, and all the nerves went away. I was just happy to see you.”
“Me too.” I look into his milk chocolate eyes and I see a change happen. They go from warm and sweet to heated, full of hunger. He wants to kiss me. I can tell just by that look. It weakens my already flimsy defenses. His lips brush against mine. The sensation stirs something inside of me, leaving me wanting more. I know he’s holding back for my sake, he’s keeping his promise of proceeding with caution. Before I can seek any further connection, a knock on the door brings us back to reality. He puts his forehead against mine and smiles. It’s a simple touch but it seems almost as intimate as his kiss.
“Food’s here,” he whispers. He moves to answer the door. He motions the room service attendant in and instructs him on where to arrange the food. We eat together and I tell Victor all about my week at work, explaining in detail what I do, my responsibilities and my work schedule. I talk to him about my house, how it was abandoned and in shambles, how it was a labor of love for me to fix it up. I’m careful to give him only pieces of my life, the ones that are free of demons, my constant insomnia and soul crushing memories.
Victor describes his apartment in New York. He likes the convenience of being centrally located but he doesn’t feel at home there. He tells me about the progress he’s made in the recording studio over the last few days. He tells me more about his mother and brother and how close they are. When he’s done talking, I feel like I’ve made a real connection to him. He has many sides but he’s not ashamed or afraid to share any of them. I’ve known that with every passing hour I’ve spent with him, the questions were coming. Questions that I have no desire to entertain or to answer, because those answers will lead to those pieces of my life that I’m so adamant to bury. I know those questions are coming but it still surprises me when he asks.
“When was your last real relationship, Ellie?” It’s not a bad or difficult question to answer, but that one question opens the door to a whole stream of more uncomfortable questions. I take a minute and decide to answer him truthfully.
“Uh, a little over two years.”
“Did you love him?”
I can feel the heat taking hold of me. I know that if I don’t put an end to this, I may actually have a panic attack this time. I can feel the walls around me coming up, my defenses intact. I wonder if he can see the shift in my attitude now. It’s normally imperceptible to anyone but me, but I know he has a way of seeing through me at times. “Ugh, I don’t wanna talk about him. I’m sorry, it’s just that he was a douchebag and I’d rather not even think about him at all.” That’s about as honest as I can be without telling him to mind his own business.
He’s staring at me, his eyes give nothing away. He gives me a barely there smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes, which lets me know that he’s questioning my apprehension but I know he’s not gonna push it any further. “Of course. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” I can sense the change in his tone but I’m not sure what it is. Disappointment maybe, because he’s such an open book and I’m like a diary with a lock that only I hold the key to.
I know I have no right to ask but I do anyway. “What about you? When was your last relationship?”
He doesn’t flinch. “A little over a year ago. I was on tour and gone all the time. Her job didn’t allow her to
“You were nervous?” I ask in a “yeah right” kind of tone.
“Yeah, I think maybe it was just the anticipation, driving down here earlier and then waiting for you to get here. Kind of did a number on my head.”
“Really?” I’m stunned by his admission.
He nodded his reply. “Then I saw your face, and all the nerves went away. I was just happy to see you.”
“Me too.” I look into his milk chocolate eyes and I see a change happen. They go from warm and sweet to heated, full of hunger. He wants to kiss me. I can tell just by that look. It weakens my already flimsy defenses. His lips brush against mine. The sensation stirs something inside of me, leaving me wanting more. I know he’s holding back for my sake, he’s keeping his promise of proceeding with caution. Before I can seek any further connection, a knock on the door brings us back to reality. He puts his forehead against mine and smiles. It’s a simple touch but it seems almost as intimate as his kiss.
“Food’s here,” he whispers. He moves to answer the door. He motions the room service attendant in and instructs him on where to arrange the food. We eat together and I tell Victor all about my week at work, explaining in detail what I do, my responsibilities and my work schedule. I talk to him about my house, how it was abandoned and in shambles, how it was a labor of love for me to fix it up. I’m careful to give him only pieces of my life, the ones that are free of demons, my constant insomnia and soul crushing memories.
Victor describes his apartment in New York. He likes the convenience of being centrally located but he doesn’t feel at home there. He tells me about the progress he’s made in the recording studio over the last few days. He tells me more about his mother and brother and how close they are. When he’s done talking, I feel like I’ve made a real connection to him. He has many sides but he’s not ashamed or afraid to share any of them. I’ve known that with every passing hour I’ve spent with him, the questions were coming. Questions that I have no desire to entertain or to answer, because those answers will lead to those pieces of my life that I’m so adamant to bury. I know those questions are coming but it still surprises me when he asks.
“When was your last real relationship, Ellie?” It’s not a bad or difficult question to answer, but that one question opens the door to a whole stream of more uncomfortable questions. I take a minute and decide to answer him truthfully.
“Uh, a little over two years.”
“Did you love him?”
I can feel the heat taking hold of me. I know that if I don’t put an end to this, I may actually have a panic attack this time. I can feel the walls around me coming up, my defenses intact. I wonder if he can see the shift in my attitude now. It’s normally imperceptible to anyone but me, but I know he has a way of seeing through me at times. “Ugh, I don’t wanna talk about him. I’m sorry, it’s just that he was a douchebag and I’d rather not even think about him at all.” That’s about as honest as I can be without telling him to mind his own business.
He’s staring at me, his eyes give nothing away. He gives me a barely there smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes, which lets me know that he’s questioning my apprehension but I know he’s not gonna push it any further. “Of course. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” I can sense the change in his tone but I’m not sure what it is. Disappointment maybe, because he’s such an open book and I’m like a diary with a lock that only I hold the key to.
I know I have no right to ask but I do anyway. “What about you? When was your last relationship?”
He doesn’t flinch. “A little over a year ago. I was on tour and gone all the time. Her job didn’t allow her to
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