Chapter 11

11

W hen Sol snoozed her cell phone alarm for the first time the following morning , her headache was difficult to ignore. By the time she'd snoozed it three times, she realized she was hungover. She hadn't even drunk that much the previous day! But she could no longer pretend she was still in her twenties.

The night had been fun though.

She'd had dinner with the girls and had promised Laura she'd join her that week for a Zumba class at her gym. Sol must have been euphorically tipsy to have agreed to that . Her lack of coordination had kept her away from Zumba, barre, and all sorts of other group classes where you needed to show some rhythm and the basic ability to follow dance choreography.

"Aargh!" she protested out loud, covering her face with one of the bed pillows when she realized there was no way out of joining the Zumba class without offending Laura.

She grabbed her buzzing phone to snooze her alarm again when she saw the text message.

Luke Contadino: It was great running into you yesterday. Does your offer still stand?

"?Qué oferta?" yelled Sol in Spanish. She sat up, remembering everything that happened the night before and realizing she had indeed been drunk.

Had she really not only flirted—a little—with the TDS but also given him her cell phone number and offered to show him around?

She didn't even like him!

Right?

However, on second thought, he looked different the previous night. He was sexy in a way she'd never come to appreciate in London. He no longer looked like a banker/lawyer/dude who was at the studio following his doctor's advice to start doing Pilates as a way of exercising in a low-impact way. He almost looked… cool .

He'd been wearing washed black slim jeans and a clingy, distressed and equally dark T-shirt. His short black curls weren't styled into a gelled, rigid do like in London but were loose. And did he have stubble? He would have had to for Sol to have given him her number. It was against her moral and taste standards to behave in any other way.

She replied right away.

Sol Novo: Sure, I have a super-curated list of recommendations that I can send you now.

Her initial reaction was always to try and get out of whatever new or unusual situation her more motivated self had created. She copied and pasted her many-times-shared email of Barcelona musts, crossed her fingers that all of it would fit into a text message or two, and sent it Luke's way. She also edited his contact info on her phone to make him more recognizable. There were way too many entries in her contacts for L names, and she needed clarity.

Luke Contadino (a.k.a. TDS): Any chance that you'd accompany me to one of the many bodegas and bars on your list?

Sol started typing an answer, but Luke was quicker.

Luke Contadino (a.k.a. TDS): We could also meet for an afternoon snack if you prefer.

Coming up with an excuse would have been easy, yet she surprised herself by accepting.

Sol Novo: OK, let's meet this afternoon for berenar. Are you free at 17?

Luke Contadino (a.k.a. TDS): Yes

Sol Novo: Meet me at the corner of ronda Sant Antoni and carrer Tallers and we can have some ensa?mades at Forn Mistral.

Luke Contadino (a.k.a. TDS): Sounds delicious even if I don't know how to pronounce it. Are Catalan classes included?

Sol couldn't avoid smiling. She was downright enjoying the text conversation even if a part of herself, who was now completely sober, wanted nothing to do with Luke.

After her second divorce and the events leading to it, she had implicitly sworn off romantic relationships and cultivated a greater social life instead.

Conflicted as she was, she had no clue how to respond to that text. And she was supposed to write for a living!

Sol Novo: Only if you prove worthy of them.

She couldn't believe she had sent that last text. She locked her phone, put it away, and hoped that a long shower, strong tea, and a dosage of naproxen would help with that headache of hers.