Grapes Upside Down

30. Torta Mil Hojas

~Madisen~

In the morning, I awake to several text messages.

Clara has invited me for lunch with her host family and has exciting news. Daria wants to know what else happened after she left the wine bar. And Ignacio has texted twice, once last night and once this morning. The translations go something like this:

I had the best time with you. You are incredible. :)

Good morning, Caperucita Roja. Hope you slept well. I had a hard time falling asleep after that kiss. :)

His messages send me into a physical sensation of whirling around several times in the fair tea pot ride.

Good morning! Me too, I had an amazing time.

He doesn't respond for a couple hours, during which time I go for a jog, have breakfast with Graciela and get ready to head to La Católica. With the long holiday weekend, it seems like forever since I last attended classes.

Graciela asks me about my date, and I downplay my feelings by offering as little information as possible. I know I'm not supposed to react this strongly towards someone after seeing them only twice. Also, I would imagine Graciela has noticed the recent flirtation between Noah and me, making this whole situation quite awkward.

There's a black spirally sensation of dread twirling around in my stomach, because I haven't heard from Noah since yesterday afternoon. He wanted to talk to me, discovered I was out with someone else and never revealed what was on his mind. Part of me wonders if he was about to admit his feelings, found out I was on a date and then shut down. On the other hand, I halfway suspect he was planning to gently tell me he doesn't want to take things up a level to a romantic relationship between us.

Though I was still praying for a confession from Noah yesterday afternoon, now things are all muddled up because of the intense and unexpected chemistry with Ignacio last night.

At this point, I'm most nervous about wrecking the beautiful friendship Noah and I have developed here in Chile.

On the micro, I text Noah just to make sure he made it safely to Santiago, but the message stays on "delivered."

Please don't be angry with me, Noacito, I silently beg—inside my head only, not in text.

After history class, my heart skips when I see Ignacio has replied to my message. I'm attracted to everything about him, and the prospect of having a Chilean boyfriend I can communicate with all the time in Spanish is an exciting bonus.

I'll be off work early tonight. Can I pick you up at 9:00pm? Text me your address. :)

He wants to see me for the third day in a row. That overwhelming sensation of elation foams up in my throat again.

I send Ignacio my address in Viña.

"¿Es Noah?" Clara leans into me affectionately, spying over my shoulder at my phone. Everyone is clearing out of the classroom; I remember I had a question for the professor about our assignment, but he is long gone.

"No..." I hesitate, nerves itching as if ants are searching for food along the lining of my stomach. "Es... um... Ignacio."

Clara lifts her brows with keen interest, and I meet her bright blue eyes as a mischievous giggle bubbles out.

"¿Ignacio?"

"Es chileno."

"I assumed."

A silent, sparkly anticipation stretches between us.