Perfection

65 Days After, 323 Days Until

Sam

I watched as Alexia sipped on a glass of wine then roll her white sleeves up her arms. She was leaned back into the counter, looking down at her feet. She'd gone to the hair dresser or she'd darkened her hair herself. Her body language didn't seem her usual happy self.

"I haven't made anything for dinner. I thought you'd want to stay at your apartment." She didn't look at me.

"Did you want me to?" I kept my voice a whisper.

She shook her head with a "No."

"Where's—"

"Alba came by and took her out for dinner. She said she wanted to get to know her 'soon-to-be niece'. They've been gone for about fifteen minutes maybe."

"Soon-to-be, huh?" I chuckled.

"She thinks we're getting married sometime soon. We haven't even told Riley we're together and we haven't even been together that long."

I stood a few feet in front of her. "I like your hair. You do it yourself?"

"Alba. Again."

"It's nice."

"Gracias." I carefully took the glass of wine from her. "Bonita..."

"You said you don't like drinking during season unless there's a reason. Why are you drinking?"

"Are you upset?"

"No. What is there to be upset about?"

"Jenni."

"Oh," I sat the glass down on the counter. I grabbed her wrists and felt how heavy they were. "You're drunk."

"No."

"Ale," I rested her hands on my hips. I looped my arms around her neck. "You're drunk." I whispered. "You shouldn't be drinking. How much have you had, babe?"

"Too much."

"Yeah?"

"Sí." Her temple rested against mine. "Are you mad about Jenni?"

"Are you?"

"I'm so—Yes. I'm very much. I'm so angry." Alexia's sentences are broken. Her emotions are high. "She...I love you."

"I know that. Have you always been an emotional drinker?"

"No." She took her head away and her caramel eyes met mine. "Okay, it's only happened one other time."

"Okay,"

"You don't believe me."

"I believe you, babe." I chuckled.

"Tell me you love me."

"I love you." She started to lean down to kiss me. "Nope," I gave her a small smile, putting a finger to her lips. "I don't drink. I hate alcohol."

"But you're not...you're not drinking."

"No, but it's on your lips. In your mouth. Brush your teeth, wash your mouth out. Then you can kiss me. ¿Compréndeme?"

"That was sexy." Alexia kissed my finger then gently wrapped her fingers around my wrist. "Deberías hablar más español, mi amor."

"Okay," I giggled, not understanding much of that sentence other than 'more Spanish' and 'my love'. She then began kissing my palm and wrist, working up my arm. "Let's get you in bed, Ale."