Grapes Upside Down

28. Cafecito

~Madisen~

"¡Te va a llamar!" Daria informs me, the emotion in her perpetually even tone elevated almost to a level one would label as excitement. I scurry to create some distance from Noah in the hall, ducking into my bedroom.

During my walk earlier, she had called with an interesting tidbit of information.

After I went back into the club last night to grab my jacket, Daria flagged me over from the bar. She had run into a Chilean friend from one of her classes at La Católica; they were having a grand old time drinking Heinekens and screaming their conversations into the abyss of blasting music.

When Daria urged me to stay and hang out, I declined, explaining that Noah wasn't feeling well. Heading towards the exit, I received Noah's text letting me know he had already left in the colectivo. After a goofy text exchange in which he sent me a raccoon next to a kissy emoji, I made an about-face to return to the bar.

"You're back!" Daria had called out, hugging me with a surprising amount of enthusiasm. Her friend, a complete stranger to me, also cheered my return as if I were a celebrity.

"Meet my friend!" It was then that she introduced me to Ignacio.

I was super drunk, and all I remember is laughing like a wild hyena as he made joke after joke, drinking Heineken after Heineken. He ordered me another Piscola after I told him I despise Chilean beer (which I only now realize is a stupid statement, as Heinekens are German or Dutch or something). Thankfully, I only drank a sip or two before leaving it to sweat beads of condensation onto a soggy cardboard coaster.

I held zero romantic notions towards Ignacio and had no recollection of us flirting when Daria called this afternoon to inform me that he had been trying to get in touch. Apparently, I gave him the wrong number on accident when we all exchanged contact information at the end of the night.

She asked if I wanted her to pass along my real number or not.

If the earlier exchanges with Noah had gone differently, if he had given me any inkling that he wanted to take our flirty friendship to the next level, I would have declined without giving it a second thought.

But after Noah offered no follow-up beyond a smirk and a little joke over our kiss--the only kiss in my life that has ever flooded me with such an intense emotional and physical desire at the same time--I did give Daria's offer a second thought. And a third and fourth. Until she had asked if I was still on the line.

After sending Noah home alone puking in the colectivo, I should have been missing him. Instead, I was laughing my head off with unbridled joy alongside Daria, whatever her random friend's name was... and Ignacio.

So, in a moment of petty recklessness, I told Daria to go ahead.

"I just texted him your number. He is super excited and says he plans to call you really soon."

My stomach flip-flops, but it's not just nerves or excitement. It's a bizarrely momentous sensation, an intuition, as if something important is flipping upside down. And I'm not sure if it's for better or for worse.

An ominous text from Noah comes through as Daria and I continue chatting; it hits me in the gut like a brick of black coal.

I need to talk to you.

When I tiptoe into the hall after hanging up, Noah's door is closed. I hear him talking in English, which means someone from his family has called. My bones are icicles after a long walk, so I head to the shower.

"Madisen! Did you see my texts?" Noah is rapping on the door with a tinge of desperation as he repeats that he needs to talk to me, but I'm already undressed. Is he that urgent to clarify he doesn't want to be my boyfriend?