Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Calista was almost late to the airport, where she was supposed to meet Michael for their first date. Milani had been throwing a fit because she couldn't go to Cuba with her parents for the weekend and instead was visiting her grandmother, Katherine, in California.
Calista rushed up the steps of the private jet and saw Michael sitting, patiently, in the plane. Calista's face brightened at the sight, it had been far too long since she had seen Michael. Michael made eye contact with her and scrambled to stand up.
Calista walked down the plane's aisle to meet him halfway and greeted him with a tight embrace. "Sorry, Michael, Milani was being a spoiled brat. I had to tell her that not a lot of people could fly across the country to see their grandma so that she could finally stop whining.
Michael waved her apology off. "As long as your here." He smiled warmly.
The two got to talking and caught up on everything that had been going on in their lives. Michael spoke about his album release that was going to happen in a week, the house he built in Encino and the short films he was producing. While Calista spoke about her visual album, how she was not going to tour for this album and her own dreams of decorating a house of her own.
When Michael heard of her desires to design her own home, he instantly thought of the Neverland Ranch and how it still needed to be designed and built— but he didn't mention it, for it was too early to be planning on moving in together. What was hours, felt like minutes on the plane and next thing they knew, the had arrived in Havana, Cuba.
* * *
The first night in Havana played out as if they were in a dream. Michael took her out to the nicest restaurant in town, despite Calista's preferences of eating among the locals. Although, Calista wasn't complaining.
For the three years the two had been apart, they seemed to have grown out of the infatuation they had for each other. They were never to gain that infatuation again for one another. However, they did begin to brew a love for each other. And it all started to grow in that night.
Their eyes couldn't seem to come off of each other during the dinner, thus disabling them from choosing a meal on the menu. The waiter slowly walked over, reviewing the little bit of English he had learned. "Hello, what you would... like from... menu?" The waiter struggled to speak to the Americans.
Calista recalled the days she took Spanish in high school and began to speak with the waiter. "Perdón, ¿podemos tener más tiempo para mirarlo? (I'm sorry, can we have more time to look at the menu?)" Calista apologized.
"Claro está, Señora Jackson. Lo siento, asumí que no hablaste español. (Of course, Mrs. Jackson. I'm sorry, I assumed that you didn't speak Spanish.)" The waiter waved her off.
"Ahem— yo no estoy casada con Señor Jackson... (Ahem— I am not married to Mr. Jackson.)" Calista flushed at the sound of the waitress call her Mrs. Jackson in Spanish. Michael was clueless but found the exchange adorable.
"Perdón, Señorita Rose... Aquí nadie poden mirar la televisión americano, o escuchar la música americana— por eso, yo no sabía si ustedes estuvieron juntos. (Sorry, Ms. Rose... Here, no one can watch American television or listen to American music— that's why I didn't know if you two were together.)" The waitress whispered, hoping no one would hear her speak about the rules of her country.
Calista nodded and smiled sympathetically, cueing the waitress to leave. "Wow, I didn't know you spoke Spanish." Michael was in awe at Calista's intelligence.
"It's very basic, it's everything I learned in the New York public schools." Calista shrugged, picked up her wine and carefully sipped at it.
"It makes you a lot sexier." Michael licked his lips as he purred sweet nothings to her over the table for the rest of the night.
an: how was my Spanish? It's a little rusty, I know but Portuguese is quite similar so I think I did pretty well.
