25- Unmuted feelings

Have you started using anti-wrinkle creams yet? I asked, thinking of Patrick and his fear of aging that always filled me with concern, that I would be the one to age first and end up being replaced by a twenty-year-old. Luckily, she replaced me with a twenty-year-old from Los Angeles before I had to worry about aging. "After twenty-five… some women make a big deal about age," I said, remembering that was Patrick's age limit. He never said he was older than twenty-five, even though he would be turning Meb's age next May.

I don't need them, I compensate for wrinkles with my dimples on my cheeks. You'll never see them again because I won't laugh anymore. She admitted. It seems Meb wasn't afraid of the passage of time, like many human beings who think they have all the time in the world.

I didn't ask you to laugh, your teeth are annoyingly white and symmetrical. Besides, I don't need to ask for it, you look at me and that's it. See? There it is… you're smiling… Meb pressed her lips together, avoiding smiling again, and I caught a glimpse of her dimples on both cheeks beneath her cheekbones.

Are you always this stubborn? It makes me want to kiss you when you talk like that, Milton said, observing me with sparkling eyes.

I remained silent and looked down, thinking about the last time I was stubborn in front of Patrick. I don't remember what I was saying, but I remember being very upset imitating his voice and she looked at me amused. I think she was complaining because I had locked myself in the bathroom… or she was complaining because I… then I imitated her and… she looked at me amused… and why do I always end up thinking about her?

What color are your eyes? Milton wanted to know.

They're black, or that's what my mom says. I had a girlfriend who said they were brown. The image of Patrick holding my face and looking at me intently…

I don't know, I guess I like to think they're black. Blonde with black eyes, something like Shakira.

Well, then I won't be able to tell when you're angry… mine turn green, almost brown.

Really?

Yes, he turned up the air conditioning and started smoking in his car with the windows slightly open.

Well, when I'm angry, I stay silent and purse my lips. I continued, ignoring the smell of smoke coming from his pipe. - I don't know, I don't usually analyze my attitude when I'm angry. I think I can scare people, you know, I start talking nonstop. I don't measure my words and I don't like getting angry because I avoid hurting the people I care about.

Didn't you say you stay silent? Meb asked, pointing out my contradiction. The twigs were burning inside her pipe, and she was burning them again with the flame.

Well, I stay silent until I explode and start talking nonstop… that's what I mean… I sighed and looked at her through a thin layer of smoke. - Could you, could you wait and smoke when I'm gone? I said.

Does it bother you?

No, not at all. But I don't want to kiss you if you're high.

Why don't you fly with me then? Meb slowly moved her lips while my heart began to beat with difficulty as I observed the fine wrinkles that outlined her rosy lips.

Maybe I should go… it bothers me that you smoke while you work.

It's five in the morning, Dassy, I'm off in 40 minutes.

In 40 minutes, they might need you in the emergency room. What will you say?

I wouldn't operate.

If you say so… I snapped.

No, I'll turn it off. I can wait… she whispered, putting her pipe between her lips. Then she leaned towards my mouth and let me breathe in the grey smoke coming out from between her lips. My knees weakened as I felt her cold lips, she took hold of the back of my neck and started kissing me. The smell of weed made me want to discover the scent of her neck, probably Chanel No. 5 mixed with marijuana.

You don't seem so angry now, she whispered inches away from my mouth. I lowered my smiling face, feeling like an army of ants was crawling on my cheeks.

You're blushing, Dassy, Milton observed.

When I'm happy, I blush easily and bite my lips. No image of Patrick making me blush… none.

Dasy… I like you. I really like you. Her blue eyes were now like a precious stone, the heart of the ocean fused into a diamond. Her gaze… I blinked. She leaned in and kissed me near the lips. Her warm breath sent shivers down my skin.

Is that Chanel No. 5 that I smell? I looked at her, surprised by her good taste in leather and scents.

Yes, she admitted, smiling. She stored the pipe in the glove compartment and rolled up the car windows again. - I have great admiration for Chanel. Do you know her story?

Of course, an empowered and determined woman… in fact, she reminds me of you.

Dasy, she looked at me seriously, we don't have to do anything, we can just talk if that's what you want. You don't even have to kiss me if you don't want to, she said with her deep, husky voice. "Why do people's voices get so deep after smoking weed?" I wondered. I should ask that to Gabriela when I talk to her. Meb's fingers traced the edges of my face, and the atmosphere was filled with the need to feel her, the same need that separated our mouths.

Okay, I can't handle this, you're a true Latin lover, I said rolling my eyes, still feeling her caresses… my pulse seemed to accelerate as I felt her hands.

And you're a true Latina.

Yes, I admitted in a soft voice. We would make a good team.

Are you always this flexible? I asked her gently.

No, actually, I never am. I usually go for what I want and get it. But with you, I don't know what's happening. You're different, I think you like to play with fire and then you're afraid of the flame. Your innocence and naivety are like two sides of the same coin, it makes me think you're unpredictable. Do you understand? First, we kiss, and then we tell each other our names. I usually do things the other way around.