Page 35 of Dream Chaser

Before I could think of an appropriate question, the main lights flickered on, flooding the elevator with a glow so bright I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Well, that was fast,” Alejandro said. “At least we won’t take any of the firemen’s time.” He rose gingerly and pulled out his phone. I winced, trying to stand, and he wrapped an arm around my waist, helping me up with ease. As I straightened, my chest brushed his. Solid. Warm. Heat traveled over me in a wave, and I could swear his breath caught.

I was probably imagining it.

I stepped back. “Did you…do you have service now?”

“Looks like it.” He cleared his throat, scrolling through his phone. “The NitroFlow manager texted and said the power went out in their offices too. Shit happens. We’ll reschedule. Want to grab lunch anyway?” He glanced up from the screen. “You must be starving. We lost the reservation, but there’s a nice spot nearby.”

“Sure,” I said, too fast, probably too eager.

For food, but also company.

His company, the annoying, shameless voice in my head whispered. I drowned it out with the elevator’s hum as we rode to the lobby.

***

The small diner we ended up at reminded me of a spot I loved when I was in college. Maybe it still existed.

Pop music drifted from overhead speakers as Alejandro and I bit into our burgers. Mine was loaded with bacon and cheese and every condiment imaginable. It tasted amazing—but then, everything tasted amazing when you were eating as little as I was.

“This is really good,” I said when I stopped chewing. “But I’m not sure anything will ever top your friend’s paella.”

Alejandro chuckled. “Manu will be happy you said that. What’s your favorite dish? He’s not here,” he whispered, glancing around as if his friend could really hide under one of the wooden tables or in the kitchen. “You can be honest. I know it’s not paella. It’s…”

“Lasagna.”

He flicked up his brow. “You should’ve told me. We would’ve gone somewhere they have it.”

I reached for my water. “No. This is perfect. What about yours?”

“Mine?”

“Favorite dish?”

He set his burger on the plate. “Right. It has to be churrasco.”

I tilted my head, studying him.

“Barbecue,” he clarified. “It’s a family tradition. Normally, people have it in the summer in Spain, but los Guerrero don’t discriminate. Winter, fall, who cares?”

I dipped a fry in ketchup. “Having family traditions is nice. Even better if food is involved.”

“Do you have any?”

Did I even have a family anymore? I wasn’t sure. “Not really. We used to celebrate everything together when my dad was alive. Not so much after he passed.”

“I’m sorry. It must’ve been hard to lose your father so young.”

“It was. We were close.”

Dad’s support would’ve helped. But here I was, without him.

It struck me that Alejandro and I were more similar than I realized—both in Emerport, far from our families. I wanted to ask him if he ever felt lonely, but this conversation was already getting too personal.

We finished eating, not talking much, but still enjoying the food and the company. By the time Alejandro paid the bill, it had stopped raining. My mood soured at the prospect of looking for a place to spend the night.

“What’s your address?” He held the door open for me. “I’ll take you home.”