CHAPTER 2

“Message In A Bottle (Taylor’s Version)” – Taylor Swift

OKAY, MAYBE I SHOULD HAVE thought some of this through.

It turns out that flying on your own this abruptly on a 14.5-hour flight is exactly how it sounds. Freaking overwhelming. I wouldn’t say I really get scared on planes, although my body would have to disagree with this sentiment after shivering profusely as we were about to take off.

I quite literally looked like that was the first plane I’d ever been on. But my horrendous posture was nothing compared to my teeth that must have chattered for a good 20 minutes. I’m pretty sure the travelers sitting to my left and right glanced over at each other sharing a mutual look of worry if I was going to collapse, probably placing bets if it would be before or after we got to Spain.

But as soon as we landed, all I could think was I did it . I’m here . And as anxious and worried as I still felt about it, I also felt proud of myself. Getting here was half the battle. And I did it .

When I get in my shuttle, I send Enrique a message that I’ll be at the resort in less than an hour.

My nerves temporarily settle as I spot a sliver of the coastline framed by vibrant green palm trees in the blazing afternoon. The cerulean Mediterranean sea glitters as we wind our way along the two-lane highway. For a moment, it feels like home. I exhale a deep breath and let myself almost relax for the rest of the drive.

I’m still awaiting a response from Enrique when I reach the front doors of Alonso Bay Resort. But I almost drop my luggage in shock the moment I walk inside.

The grandness. The pristine ivory tiles. The elegant architecture that’s only outshined by the picturesque view of the ocean from the balcony. It’s all absolutely breathtaking. Fresh flowers fill the giant lobby that has both an indoor and outdoor setup. As the sea breeze disperses in the air, I notice the never-ending halls, high ceilings, and curving marble staircase. I make my way deeper into the lobby, toward the glass windows when I spot the overgrown gardens surrounding a massive pool that looks even more inviting than the photos I saw online.

This is definitely the most impressive resort that I’ve seen even though I’ve only been here for less than two minutes.

Momentarily forgetting how I’m still anticipating Enrique’s text, my phone lights up, my heartbeat now singing. Then the adrenaline spike abruptly drops when I realize Enrique’s name isn’t on my screen. It’s a message from Georgia. I go back to check if I accidentally missed his text and also notice a few missed ones from my mom. Trying to process the multiple conversations all at once, I bump into someone.

“Shit!” a nice voice exclaims before I realize what’s going on.

The cocktails in his hands slosh over the sides of the glasses and instantly cover the marble tile floor and both of our clothes .

I feel a puddle of moisture on the fabric of my coral sundress and look down to find a big stain covering the hemline. Fuck. This did not just happen .

“My dress!” I cry, forgetting that guy is still even here.

I look up to see him even more pissed than I am and then instantly clock how cute he is.

“Are you serious?” His brows raise in what must be shock. “This was your fault!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I got a bunch of messages at once,” I defend myself, while gesturing to my phone still in my hand.

“How stressful for you,” he deadpans. “Your messages couldn’t wait long enough for you to watch where you were going?” The annoyance in his voice only increases.

It’s actually quite shocking how much his sarcastic tone and dry expression are making up for his otherwise distracting features.

Upon first glance, he’s just as handsome as Enrique, if not more. With dirty blonde hair and the most vivid blue eyes that I’ve personally only seen in films. I think he might even be a few inches taller than Enrique. At least 6’3”. While his physique is leaner and less muscular that’s not to say that he doesn’t look just as fit. And his hands pressed against his now damp shirt are pretty— Wait. No. Focus . His mumbled scoffs luckily snap me out of my brief trance.

He has every right to be mad. But at the same time, he needs to get over it. “I said I was sorry,” I reiterate. Then my phone vibrates, and now it’s Enrique. Shifting my attention for a second, I proclaim out loud, “Ah! He responded.”

I realize too late that this probably makes this guy even more annoyed when he says, “I’m sick of people like you who are constantly glued to your phones when walking around, completely oblivious to your surroundings.”

“I don’t usually check my phone when I’m walking,” I argue. “This was an exception.”

“My lucky day then.” He scoffs.

Okay what’s this guy’s problem? I already apologized. It’s my turn to voice my frustration now. “Maybe you should have been more careful? Walking around with drinks that don’t fit their glasses.”

“ Great insult.” He doesn’t stop there. “While I’d love to stand here covered in sticky fruit and chat with you, someone has to actually clean this mess.”

I wasn’t expecting my entrance to include cleaning liquor and juice off the lobby floor, but I know it’s the right thing to do.

“I can help you,” I offer.

His tone doesn’t get any friendlier as he holds up a hand to me. “You’ve done enough.”

There’s no point in arguing with him. I would’ve been more careful if there weren’t a million thoughts dancing around in my mind right now. I’m jet-lagged, hungry, and just navigated my way all alone to a whole different continent. I think I deserve a little slack.

Still, I want to help knowing how this was mostly my fault. But since he made it very clear that he doesn’t want my help, and I don’t want to make everything worse, I decide to just leave it be.

As he walks away to go look for napkins, I turn in the opposite direction.

Of course my first day in Spain had to start off on such a bad note.

But I have more important problems to solve right now. Like the giant stain covering my dress .

Looking for the nearest restroom quickly to try and salvage my outfit doesn’t solve anything when the larger water outlines make the stain look even worse. Ugh. This is just perfect .

Not only is the idea of coming here for someone that I barely know starting to really sink in, but now I also look like an absolute mess while doing it. At least the chaos is consistent.

Hoping that Enrique will somehow magically not notice this new design on my dress, I finally open his message:

Enrique: Sweet, I’ll meet you in the lobby soon

Jasmine: Okay, sounds good!

After about 15 minutes of eagerly waiting in the lobby with a mixture of butterflies and nerves dancing around in my stomach, I receive another message from him:

Enrique: An emergency meeting just came up, and it’s going to take up the rest of the day for me. I’m so sorry. How does breakfast sound for tomorrow though?

My excitement crumbles reading this so quickly from the last message that he sent. Although not wanting him to sense it, I reply:

Jasmine: No worries! Breakfast sounds good

After a few minutes of waiting with still no response, I wonder what’s going on. I’m itching to ask where and what time we’ll be meeting in the morning, but I’m also trying not to come off as desperate .

I decide to go check-in. At least this will distract me for long enough, considering how every second feels like a year while waiting for a text back from your crush.

But as the concierge hands me my room information and key card, explaining how everything was already paid for, I walk back to my seat puzzled. Briefly forgetting about my disappointment over Enrique not being able to meet me today, I send him another message:

Jasmine: I think there was a mistake. The concierge said my room was covered, but I haven’t paid yet

Enrique: Oh don’t worry about it, it’s all taken care of

Jasmine: Enrique, I can’t accept that

Enrique: Why not? I mean, you came all the way here. It’s the least I could do

Jasmine: Are you sure?

Enrique: Of course

Jasmine: But I was thinking of staying for a few weeks?

Enrique: Stay as long as you’d like :)

Jasmine: Okay. But I’m paying for everything else like room service

Enrique: Well, technically room service is charged to your room, so anything other than that ;)

Jasmine: Anything that’s not related to the room then :)

Enrique: Okay. That seems fair

Jasmine: Thank you again. This is all very generous of you

Enrique: Don’t mention it. I hope you like your suite. I tried giving you the second-best view

Jasmine: Second-best?

Enrique: Since the first one is now here...

Jasmine: That was SO bad

Enrique: Really? Damn. I worked on it for the past three day s

Jasmine: Nope. Sorry. It was still bad

Enrique: haha

Despite my response to him, I’m once again smiling down at my phone like an idiot, still not fully grasping that he’s flirting with me. While I’m now sitting in the lobby of his mesmerizing resort . But since he still hasn’t mentioned the details for tomorrow, I finally ask:

Jasmine: So where should I meet you tomorrow and what time?

Enrique: Oh shit. I forgot. My bad. At the restaurant by the main pool at 9:30

It was pretty careless on my part to have been so focused on myself that I failed to even consider his job being in the picture. Although it is the middle of the week, but now I wonder how the rest of his work hours will look like.

My suite is enough to make me forget about our entire conversation altogether, though.

Enrique wasn’t joking when he said the view from my room would be one of the best. And I thought the one from the lobby balcony was impressive. I also can’t recall ever smiling this much over pieces of furniture, the white walls only making the royal blue and lime décor stand out even more. Currently distracted by the large TV, my focus leaps toward the assorted snacks by the kitchen counter. I take some dried mango and apples with me to the luxurious bed and immediately relax onto it. Fuck . If this isn’t the most comfortable bed that I’ve been on.

My short-lived paradise is interrupted though, when I unpack my suitcase only to find no underwear in it. Rearranging it two more times, I painfully accept that I forgot to pack something this important.

Given the circumstances, I text Enrique, making sure to omit the specifics:

Jasmine: I just realized I forgot to bring something with me. Do you mind if we go to the mall tomorrow morning?

Enrique: Yeah. Of course

Jasmine: Okay, perfect. Thanks

Until tomorrow my swimsuit bottoms will have to do.

Too exhausted to call Georgia, I also send her a text before I fall asleep:

Jasmine: The room is absolutely insane, and the resort is unlike anything I’ve seen before. I’ll call you tomorrow though since I’m about to pass out. Already miss you

Georgia: No worries. I can’t wait to hear about it. Miss you too

_________

My excitement the following morning makes up for the fact that I’m still pretty tired despite getting a good seven hours of sleep.

I’m currently looking over at the ocean that’s sparkling from the sun’s reflection, breathing in the fresh warm summer air, and wearing my favorite pastel mint skirt. There’s absolutely nothing that can change my mood right now.

I spoke too soon.

As soon as I get to the restaurant, I notice the person Enrique is sitting next to.

Shit . Why is he sitting next to the guy whose drinks I spilled yesterday at the lobby?

I seriously debate if I should just go back to my room before Enrique’s charming voice quickly brings everything into focus again, reminding me this is fate. He’s the main reason I’m here, and I’m not about to miss this opportunity for some frustrating encounter I had with a random guy at a resort.

Sucking it up, I cautiously make my way toward them through the aisles of greenery and vibrant flowers.

When the other guy also notices me, it’s almost as if our faces sink at the same time.

My attention is drawn back to Enrique though as he gets up to greet me, the flash of his dimples already affecting my heartbeat.

“Hey, it’s so good to see you again,” Enrique says.

“You too! Thank you again for having me,” I say as he leans in to kiss my cheeks, when I notice a name tag on his grey dress shirt. Wait, he works here? He’s dressed like he should be at an office, not by the pool. “Do you work here?” I voice my question out loud.

I hear the guy sitting behind Enrique scoff, but I ignore him. And try my best not to roll my eyes.

“Oh yeah. I’m one of the managers,” Enrique answers. “Didn’t I tell you?”

No. He did not . I almost wince, noting how little I know about him.

He then turns his attention to the other guy and says, “Luca, this is Jasmine. Jasmine, this is mybest friendLuca.”

Best friend? Fuck. You’ve got to be joking.

Luca looks directly into my eyes and says dryly, “We’ve met…”

“It’s so nice to see you again,” I fake .

Enrique looks surprised but also confused. “How did you meet?”

“She spilled drinks on both of us,” Luca responds too simply. It’s then that I also notice he doesn’t have an accent.

“Really convenient of you to leave out the part where it was all an accident,” I say, trying to keep it cool, though, difficult considering his best friend seems like a jackass.

Luca feigns a look of concern as he turns toward Enrique. “That’s odd, I remember her being a lot sweeter yesterday.”

Enrique thankfully decides to ignore our exchange and instead begins explaining to his friend, “Jasmine was my lit tutor during freshman year, and we bumped into each other in California during The Fourth of July.”

“And now she’s here. How exciting ,” Luca adds emotionlessly while looking back at me.

Don’t. Lose. Your. Cool .

Enrique’s brows furrow in what seems like concern before he explains to me, “Luca and his sister Sofia are here pretty much the whole summer. But Sofia’s work schedule is a lot more hectic this summer so she hasn’t been coming over as much as she usually does. Luca’s on holiday though so he’s here for the next few weeks. He’s also staying in a suite.”

“That’s fantastic.” I glare at Luca as I say it, and he wastes no time to return the same annoyed expression back at me.

Enrique’s phone starts buzzing before he can question our behavior, when I notice him sigh while reading his messages. “I have to go see what’s wrong with one of the pools. We also have a few team meetings afterward for this wedding that’s in two weeks.” A trace of guilt now fills his eyes as he looks at me. “I’m sorry. I know you just got here. I also waited for you to eat, but it looks like I’ll be skipping breakfast for a second day in a row now,” he jokes almost nervously.

“No. It’s okay,” I quickly reassure with a smile, trying my best to conceal the second wave of disappointment that’s hit me in the past 24 hours. “I know you’re busy. We can talk later.”

He is working after all, and it’s pretty difficult to be too frustrated after seeing his dimples again. “Thank you for understanding,” Enrique offers. “I’ll text you as soon as I’m done so we can go have dinner or something.”

“Okay,” I say, then remember, “wait, what about the mall?”

Judging by how quickly his forehead just creased, it seems like he also forgot. “Oh right. I bet Luca wouldn’t mind taking you?” Enrique looks at Luca optimistically and asks, “Right Luca?”

“Maybe Luca has other plans,” Luca says, while glaring back at Enrique.

I can almost picture the silent conversation they’re having right now:

Enrique: C’mon please go with her. I’m busy

Luca: I would but I don’t like her

“Speaking of Luca having other plans,” Enrique finally deadpans, “weren’t you also gonna meet Sofia later today?” Then he turns toward me. “You could spend the day with them if you want.”

I smile at his charming hospitality in contrast to the bitter scowl that’s on his best friend’s face.

Enrique gets up and brushes my shoulder. “Be nice,” he subtly tells Luca before he walks away.

As soon as he leaves, Luca eagerly gets up and says, “Well. Have a great day.”

What just happened ?

“But Enrique just said that you’d take me to the mall?” I ask, puzzled.

“We don’t need the whole day for that. We could go later in the afternoon when I get back,” he replies casually as he starts to walk away.

I catch up to him and add, “I thought that I could spend the day with you and your sister though?” I don’t even know why I suggest wanting to spend time with him. I guess the thought of not knowing anyone else here feels more daunting than this alternative. Plus it would be nice to meet another girl who I assume is around my age since Georgia isn’t here.

Luca also seems surprised at my question but still manages to add sarcasm to his response. “You really want to spend the day with me?”

I scoff. “No, not at all. I wouldn’t mind meeting your sister though.”

“Why?” he says with a cocky smirk. “What if she’s exactly like me?”

“There’s no way,” I reply. “My luck can’t be that bad.” On second thought, maybe it can be? With the way things are turning out so far.

He looks like he wants to say something but refrains himself.

Instead, he mockingly asks, “What’s so important that you couldn’t have waited for Enrique to take you to get it?”

I exhale, realizing that this is going to be a long day. “I forgot to pack my underwear.”

“You brought everything with you except for your underwear?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.

“It must have slipped my mind.” I mock both of us, adding, “I know that might be hard to believe with the three whole days I had to pack. ”

“I’m finding other things way harder to believe right now.”

Ignoring his comment, I ask, “When are we leaving?”

“I was going to go now. I have to meet my sister in an hour. So no worries if that doesn’t work for you,” Luca adds sarcastically.

“It works for me,” I say without hesitation, glaring at him with an annoyed smile.

Forgetting how I also haven’t even had breakfast yet, I manage to take one slice of toast with me before we hastily leave the restaurant.

_________

From the way Enrique had to abruptly leave to the shocking realization that these two are best friends has left me a little speechless. To the point where I don’t even bother asking Luca where we’re going to meet his sister. All I know is that we’ve walked for way too long, and it doesn’t seem to be ending anytime soon. My legs already feel sore, and the grumbling from my fairly empty stomach isn’t helping the situation either.

“Luca, where did you park your car?” I finally ask. “We’ve walked three blocks already.”

“We don’t drive just to go a few blocks like you do over in America,” he replies dryly.

I argue, “This seems like more than a few blocks though.”

“It’s not. We’re almost there.”

A few minutes later, I comment on his previous point, “And I don’t drive everywhere.”

“Really?” he says mockingly.

“Yes. Really,” I sneer back.

Luca pauses his steps, making me grateful for this few-second break. “Do you drive to go to a shop literally down the street from where you live? ”

“No,” I hesitate.

“Wow. That was convincing,” he deadpans before continuing to walk.

I don’t even have the chance to roll my eyes at him when we approach an ice cream stand a few steps ahead. I could easily have twenty scoops with how warm it is and not to mention the 10 miles it seems like we’ve already walked. Wiping off the sweat from my forehead, I turn toward Luca and say, “Do you mind if we stop for a moment?”

He sighs when he notices the dessert stand. “I guess.”

I smile so wide that he probably thinks I look delirious. While I scan through the flavors practically beaming, I glance over my shoulder to see he’s looking at me with an expression of confusion, but also a trace of amusement. “I’ll have pistachio please,” I declare, taking out my wallet.

Luca takes out his and gestures, “It’s fine. It’s not that much.”

“Thank you,” I say, feeling a bit surprised.

“Yeah,” he says.

When I look over at his cup, my eyes light up. “You got pistachio too?”

“It’s my favorite flavor,” he replies. “That and coffee.”

“I can’t believe we have something in common. That’s my top two as well.” My excitement at subtle things like this temporarily doesn’t reconcile how annoying I find him to be.

“ You don’t say ?” There he goes again.

“Way to ruin a moment.”

“You call that a moment?” He scoffs. “Having a mutual interest in ice cream flavors?”

“Not anymore.” I still do.

We continue walking, when Luca breaks the silence. “So have you and Enrique kept in touch all this time? ”

“No. We just saw each other for the first time since college on Saturday,” I say, now wondering how much Enrique has talked about me to his friend or if he has at all.

“And you only knew him for one semester?”

“Well. Technically yes.”

“Let me see if I understand,” he says. “You flew all the way to another country on another continent for a guy that you barely know?”

“We know some things about each other,” I say unconvincingly.

“You know him so well that you knew what he does all day for a living?”

His comment is annoying, but it’s true. Enrique never mentioned it to me, even if he thinks that he did.

With the way Luca’s brows are knit together, I sense that he’s waiting for a better explanation, so I add, “We’ve also been texting ever since he left.”

“Ever since three days ago?”

“Did he not tell you that I was coming?” I shouldn’t let my insecurities show, especially not to Enrique’s best friend. But I also don’t exactly care what Luca thinks of me.

“He talked about running into a girl that he knew from college, yeah,” Luca replies, bringing my hopes up. “But he didn’t mention you were coming here or your name.” And now they’re shattered.

“Oh.” Is all I can say. And here I was not shutting up about reconnecting with Enrique to my best friend. Good to know.

“You know that doesn’t mean anything, right?”

Was that a trace of concern? I must be imagining it.

“No, I know.” Even I can tell how weak my response sounds.

“Then why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost? ”

So Luca’s observant. But am I that obvious? I already know the answer to that.

“Wouldn’t a guy that’s excited to spend time with a girl be eager to tell his best friend about it?”

“It depends on the guy,” he says. “We’re not all the same contrary to popular belief.”

“What about you?” I say.

“What about me?”

“How would you have reacted if you were in his position?”

“I probably wouldn’t have even told him about you if it were me.” I take that way more personally than I should. He clarifies, “No it’s not like that. Just for the chances that it might turn into shit. I wouldn’t tell anyone until it’s something.”

That seems reasonable. But my unrealistic expectations still make me feel a little let down. “So the fact that he didn’t tell you much doesn’t mean anything then?” I ask, wishing I didn’t sound this insecure, but I don’t know how any of these things work.

“No it doesn’t.” Luca scoffs when he sees my face light up. “Did that make you feel better?”

“Why?” I meet his eyes that look strikingly bluer now that we’re directly in the sun. “Were you lying?”

“No I wasn’t lying,” he says, surprised by my question.

“Then why did you just ask that?” I say.

“Because another stranger’s opinion really holds that much impact on how you feel?” His brows raise. “That’s not the impression of you that I got yesterday.”

So he thought that I’m more confident than I really am. Interesting .

I reason, “You got that impression because you wouldn’t stop overreacting. ”

“I’d like to see how you would’ve reacted if you were me,” he challenges.

“I wouldn’t hold a grudge for something so insignificant.”

“I don’t hold grudges,” he replies defensively.

“Yeah, I can tell.”

A second later, Luca looks down at his phone and sighs. “Great.”

“Now what?” I say.

Still focused on his screen, he explains, “No. It’s Sofia. She just texted me saying that she can’t make it anymore.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if this was all Luca’s idea of a joke. “Was she ever going to join us?” I ask. “Or did you just make that up?”

“ Excuse me ?” He looks up at me, annoyed. “Why on Earth would I do that? That would mean spending more time with you .”

“I don’t know? To ruin my plans for the day.”

“You had plans for today?” He scoffs. “You just got here.”

“I could’ve had plans,” I rephrase.

“Fine. You want to read the texts then for yourself?” He hands me his phone, noticeably more frustrated.

I read the screen with pure confusion and then look up at him. “It’s all in Spanish. How am I supposed to understand any of this?”

He narrows his eyes at me, replying with distaste, “Maybe because I’m Spanish ? And maybe you should have learned some of it before you traveled here expecting us all to understand English.”

Okay. He has a point there.

After a few minutes of walking in silence, Luca says, “You’re welcome to go back to the resort if you want.”

“That would mean walking all the way back by myself. I’ll just stay.” When he doesn’t reply and instead just keeps walking, I say what I should have asked before we left the resort, “So where are we going?”

“Errands,” Luca answers bluntly.

I match his tone. “I didn’t ask what we’re doing. I asked where .”

“So you didn’t bother to learn our language but memorized the map of our entire country now?” he mocks, raising a brow at me.

“I didn’t mean what village in this country are we going to,” I say, pissed off at his attempt to make me sound stupid. “Are we going to a grocery store, the beach, a zoo?”

“Yeah. How did you know we were going to the famous zoo of Spain?” he deadpans.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. I’m taking your ice cream then.” I realize how weak this comeback sounds after the fact, considering how almost all of his cup is already empty.

Luca also mocks, “I’m shaking in my boots.”

“You’re not wearing boots,” I snap back thoughtlessly.

The next few streets we walk along are narrower and have a quaint cobblestone design to them that temporarily makes me forget about our conversation and how for a second it didn’t seem as frustrating.

When we reach a busy shopping center shortly after, Luca leads us toward what appears to be a small and charming art supply store.

“So what are we doing here?” I ask.

He’s looking at me like I should know the answer to his question already. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re buying shoes. I heard they have some great ones here.”

I’m done with this shit. But I also bite back a smile .

Once Luca finds everything he needs, we head to a mall that’s so busy I almost lose him before he thankfully leaves to browse another store, while I purchase three weeks’ worth of underwear.

I’m surprised how I missed all the red carnations scattered along the pavement earlier as we make our way back to the resort. It’s probably because of Luca’s welcoming attitude.

With every two feet we pass of charming Spanish architecture and vibrant shops, my smile grows with excitement and curiosity. Yet with each passing minute, I notice Luca’s face twist more condescendingly.

Every grin I give, his brows crease even deeper somehow.

But I ignore him. The scenery is just too pretty to let his reactions to my expressions faze me.

As if I’m not gushing enough, I then spot a couple near a tiered fountain set against an overgrown olive tree. The way they’re looking at each other like no one around them exists. Their proximity that seems consuming. Their lips so close to each other’s that even I feel the butterflies by just witnessing the moment that they’re actually experiencing. Temporarily forgetting about Luca’s blank glares, I turn toward him.

“Just look how cute that couple is, and the way he’s touching her arm!” I almost squeal, “Look at how their hands just intertwined. Ugh, the way she just smiled at him.”

Luca glances at the couple as quickly as he looks away. “You can see that shit everywhere you go.”

I’m slightly taken aback by his negative and almost harsh response, but it still doesn’t faze me. “I don’t know where you go, but I never see things like that,” I say.

“Go on, take a picture then,” he challenges with an arrogant flicker in his eyes.

My brows furrow. “What? ”

“With the way you’re staring at them. I didn’t think you’d take the zoo thing literally .” He scoffs.

I roll my eyes, his cynicism ticking at my veins. “It’s a shame someone as attractive as you is this annoying.”

I typically wouldn’t be this forthright about letting a guy know I find him attractive, but it feels almost unimportant with Luca. He’s so obnoxious and, from what I learned just now, pessimistic and cynical. Who cares if he knows I think he’s good looking? There’s nothing beyond a physical attraction.

Luca tilts his head to the side, making a point to meet my frustrated eyes, and replies, “I could say the same about you.”

Luckily, he walks past me before he can see my lips part in surprise.

Suddenly my throat feels dry.

It could be because he basically just told me he’s also attracted to me.