Page 10 of Wasted On Us

Once inside the car, Mateo turns to me, an easy smile playing on his lips. “I’m not sure I’m brave enough to ask you for directions to your house. Maybe we should just plug your address into the GPS.”

I nod confidently. “I’ve got this. You’re going to take a... right, no, left at the next junction,” I say, pointing in the opposite direction of my intended turn. The wine, it appears, has made me a little directionally challenged.

Mateo chuckles, “So, I take a left where you’re pointing right. Got it.” He follows my ‘directions,’ taking it all in stride.

In the soft glow of the dashboard lights, I find myself opening up to Mateo about everything and anything. I talk about my dreams of visiting Italy again, about my pet peeves, about my childhood fear of clowns.

At some point, I realize I’m rambling again. “Oh god, I’m talking your ear off, aren’t I?” I blush, burying my face in my hands. “I’m so sorry, Mateo. This is why I don’t usually drink wine. Or three glasses of it, at least. It completely erases my filter. Not that I have a solid one anyway.”

He laughs, the sound reverberating in the quiet car. “Eden, it’s fine. Actually, it’s more than fine. It’s... endearing.”

“Endearing? Really?” I tilt my head, peeking at him through my fingers.

“Yeah. It’s nice to see this side of you. Plus, your rambling is entertaining. It doesn’t allow for any of those awkward pauses in conversation.”

I playfully swat his arm. “Oh, so now I’m just your personal entertainer?”

He chuckles, glancing at me as we stop at a traffic light. “Only if you want to be.”

My tipsiness causes me to tilt my head to the side and let my mouth fall open. “You probably think I’m going to talk about kissing again.”

“Do you want to talk about kissing? I can think of worse topics of conversation.”

“Is that a dare?” I tease, leaning back into the plush seat, my heart pounding in my chest. I’m acutely aware of the space that separates us, filled with the faint scent of his cologne and the soft hum of the car’s engine.

“A dare?” Mateo echoes, his voice dropping an octave lower, turning my name into a caress. “I think it’s an invitation.”

My stomach flutters at the prospect, and my palms grow sweaty. It feels like we’re dancing around a subject that’s both terrifying and electrifying. The soft glow from the streetlights outside filters through the window, casting a gentle light on his face. The planes and angles of his features seem harsher, more masculine, and I swallow hard.

He parks the car in front of my apartment, but neither of us makes a move to exit. The silence that settles in the confined space is different from the one that filled the restaurant. It’s denser, charged with unsaid words and unshared experiences.

“Mateo,” I start, looking down at my hands, my voice barely a whisper. “Just so you know, I’m… I’m kind of a freak.”

Clearing his throat, he pauses. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but I can feel his gaze on me, patient and attentive. “Are you trying to tell me you’re a swinger or something?” His tone is gentle, void of judgment, yet I can’t help the blush that creeps onto my cheeks.

With a deep breath, I muster the courage to meet his gaze. His eyes are a steady anchor, reassuring me that no matter what I’m about to say, he’ll still be here, still be willing to listen.

I lick my lips, choosing my words carefully. “It’s about... well, not about kissing, but kinda, and... and I’m not who you think I am, that’s all…” My voice trails off at the end, but the look in his eyes tells me he’s still confused.

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to say, Eden.”

For a few blissful seconds, my brain seems to engage. But then it goes totally off the rails when I say, “I’m not experienced like you seem to be. I’ve only had one boyfriend, so I’ve never... you know.”

He scrubs a hand down his face. “You’ve never what?”

“Um… you know…” I cough into my hand.

The long pause inside the interior of the car is filled with an electrical charge so strong I feel like I could reach out and touch it.

Mateo keeps his eyes fixed on the road. The only sign he’s invested in the conversation is his white knuckles as he grips the steering wheel. “I think I know what you mean. And I think I could take care of that for you.”

I can’t disguise the little gasp that escapes my lips. “Why do you think…?”

A smile slowly spreads across his face. “Chemistry. And because that’s something I’m really good at.”

“You think we have chemistry?”

“Can’t you feel it?”

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