“This is it,” I say, feeling heartsick. “Thank you for dinner.”
“I’ll come up with you,” he says. “I should see you to your door.” He rattles something off to the driver in Spanish – I assume an instruction to stay where he is and wait – and then gets out of his side of the car. When I get out he’s waiting for me and even offers me his arm to lead me through a tiny slice of the cool evening and into the hotel lobby.
“What floor are you on?” he asks, leading me towards the elevator.
“The third,” I say. I want to be polite and tell him that he doesn’t need to walk me all the way to my door, but I desperately want him to.
In the close confines of the elevator, the impression of his body heat even from the other side of the elevator makes me swallow hard. I think about inviting him in. How do they do it in the movies? They ask if he’d like a coffee, right? I could do that. I could ask him inside, and then one thing might lead to another. If I let him know it’s what I want, maybe it could happen.
But then I think of how clear he was at the restaurant, that he would drop me off and then head home. And he told the taxi driver to wait, too, the meter is running even now.
We get out of the elevator, and it’s a short walk to my door. The whole time, I’m trying to decide. To think of a way to delay this. To reconcile the part of me that urges myself to ask him in with the part that remembers he probably sees me as a little girl still, that thinks I’m being far too forward and will end up making a fool out of myself.
At the doorway, I turn toward Fernando, though I find myself unable to face him. “This is me,” I say. “Thanks, again. For everything.”
“Of course. I had a wonderful night.” Fernando pauses. “How about another tour tomorrow?”
I lift my eyes to his, hope springing inside me. “Aren’t you busy?”
“Not too busy to make room.” He tilts his head. “How about it? A tour of Barcelona with the best guide you could ever find, and all for free as well?”
I laugh. “It sounds perfect. Thank you. I’d really like that.”
“Then I’ll see you here in the morning, bright and early,” he says. “I’ll give you a call when I’m downstairs in the lobby.”
“Great,” I say, almost lost for words. I can’t stop a grin from breaking out on my face. “Then I’ll see you then.”
“See you then.” He pauses another moment, then reaches out and taps twice on my doorframe. “Let yourself in, Ash, so I know you’re safely inside.”
I unlock the door and prop it open with my foot, unwilling to disappear inside just yet. After all, when I do, that will be the end of things.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promises, before turning and heading the few steps to the elevator. He gets inside, and I watch until the doors close on his lifted hand, a casual goodbye gesture. Then I sigh, and head inside my room.
I should have said something.
I was so happy at the moment just to know that he will be coming to see me tomorrow as well, but now that I think about it, wouldn’t it have been perfect if he’d just stayed the night? I could have suggested that he come in so that we could plan the route. Oh, that would have worked so well. Why didn’t I think of it until now, when he’s already gone?
I sink onto the bed, lying flat on my back and feeling annoyed with myself. How perfect it would have been. I could have brought out the free tourist map the hotel clerk gave me, and he could have sat on the side of the bed to point things out to me. I would have leaned over his shoulder to see, and then our faces would have been so close, and we could have turned at the same moment and almost collided with one another. We’d stare at each other’s lips, and then kiss, and he’d lay me back on the bed and slide his hands under my clothes…
I break off the thought, shaking my head. The opportunity is gone, there’s no point thinking about it now. And it’s not as though I even know where to go next. I have no experience in that department – I’ve never been in bed with a man. Never even been touched by one, especially not like that. The fantasy has to stop there because I just don’t know what to picture or how it would feel.
I sigh in frustration and change for bed. Tomorrow morning can’t come fast enough.