Page 67 of Tell Me What You Want

“Yes.”

My answer seems to grant him some relief.

“Since I didn’t know what you might like, I had Tomás bring a little of everything: rice pudding, Chinese pastries, sweet spring rolls, soy noodles, Chinese salad, beef and bamboo sprouts, pork and mushrooms, noodles with greens, fried crayfish, lemon chicken. For dessert, truffles. I hope there’s something here you like!”

“Mother of God, Eric, there’s enough food here for an army,” I say. “You could have asked Andrés to stay for dinner.”

He shakes his head.

“No.”

“Why not? He seems nice ...”

“He is. But I wanted to be alone with you. We have to have a serious talk.”

“You rat,” I say with a sigh. “I’m doped up and easy prey.”

He just smiles for an answer.

“Eat.”

I check out all the little boxes and serve myself what looks good. Everything smells delish, and when I put it in my mouth, it’s sublime.

“Where did Tomás get this?”

“Xao-Li, one of the chefs at the Villa Magna, cooked it up.”

I stare at him, incredulous.

“You’re eating authentic Chinese food. Not, I suspect, what you usually eat, which just pretends to be Chinese.”

I nod, amused by what he’s just said. Eric and his ideas about exclusivity.

He’s in a good mood, and I’m glad. Hanging out with him like this, when he’s at ease, is wonderful. When dessert time arrives, Eric brings out some truffles and sets them before me.

He picks up a spoon, splits one of the truffles, and brings half of it to my mouth. I roll my eyes in ecstasy.

“Oh my God! This is delicious!”

Eric grins and feeds me another truffle. I savor it.

“Can I try?”

I nod. He puts the truffle up to my mouth, then comes close with his for a few seconds. With care, he wraps his tongue around the truffle before taking it into his mouth.

“Scrumptious,” he says.

We look at each other, beaming.

I don’t want to be just his friend; I want more. But before I can launch myself at him, he interrupts me.

“Jude, a bit ago you said ...”

“I know what I said. Forget it.”

Eric looks at me, thinking, and finally, without changing his expression, he says, “Please, Jude, don’t say that again about being my whore. It kills me that you might believe I think like that.”

His fingers touch my lips tenderly.

---