Page 22 of One Year Ago in Spain
But this time, there was no one to catch her.
Matías
Eleven Months Ago
For his seconddate with Claire, Matías wanted to slow things down. He, himself, was not afraid of falling too fast—he believed in the momentum of fate and would not stop his heart from diving after her—but he had a strong feeling that their dinner in the library had gone several times the speed she was normally comfortable with.
So he had let Claire choose where they would go for their second date, and since she had appointed herself his tour guide—albeit, half in jest—they were now at Coney Island because she had declared it a New York initiation rite.
“You can’t be a New Yorker until you’ve spent at least one summer day sweating in the lines at Coney Island, stuffing yourself with hot dogs, and spending way too much money at carnival booths under the misguided belief thatyouwill be the one to beat the odds,” she said.
He arched a brow. “Is that really a New York initiation rite?”
Claire grinned. “Probably not, but my freshman dormmates made me do it when I arrived here from Florida, so now I’m going to do it to you.”
They started at Eldorado Auto Skooter, where music blasted while full-grown adults slammed into each other with bumper cars. Claire drove like she was trying to win the award for safestmotorist, so Matías decided to chase her, bumping her into other cars while she laughed and screamed the whole time, trying to run away from him.
Next, she took him to two hot dog stands for a taste test—Nathan’s Famous and Feltman’s.
Matías had to work not to contort his face as he ate them. “This is…food?”
Claire cracked up. “It isdefinitelyfood. It’s also payback for the bumper cars.”
“Oh, in that case…” He crammed the remainder of the second hot dog into his mouth and washed it down with a swig of lemonade. “Well, I feel thoroughly American now.”
She winked and grabbed his arm. “Okay, now that you’ve passed that part of the initiation rite, I have a reward for you.”
“Please tell me it’s not a roller coaster. I don’t think I could handle it so soon after hot dogs.”
“God, no. You’ll never find me on a roller coaster.”
Matías smiled. He was beginning to figure her out—driving her bumper car carefully around the perimeter of the rink. Small, measured bites of hot dog. No roller coasters.
“Okay, then, where are we going?” he asked.
“The Art Walls,” Claire said. “It’s like an outdoor museum of street art that changes every year.”
They were huge panels, spread out like an open-air art gallery with the roller coaster undulating behind it. Matías sighed happily as he took them in—various styles from Lichtenstein-like comics to graffiti to an abstract representation of life lived through a phone screen. It was thrilling, too, to see the crowds milling around each piece, the teenagers taking selfies and the families posing for summer vacation photos. He couldunderstand now why Coney Island was a quintessential experience Claire wanted him to have. This was New York, living and breathing—alive.
“I love this,” Matías said. “Thank you.”
She beamed. “You’re welcome. But there’s one more wall you have to see.”
Claire tugged at his arm. She didn’t see the abandoned teddy bear on the ground, though, and she tripped.
But Matías caught her.
She looked up at him, their gazes locked.
And that’s how Matías knew he had fallen for good, because he didn’t need to see any more of the Art Walls. He could just look down at Claire, and it was more than enough.
Claire
“Señora…Señora, canyou hear me?”
Claire blinked slowly, vision blurry at the edges from the sun in her eyes. Why was it so bright? It was like someone was holding up a mirror to a flashlight and pointing it straight at her—
Oh.
