Heartbreak for Dinner: It's Kind of a Long Story by Annah Rondon Page B

other side of the pond rarely became lively until two in the morning, which
is typically when normal people are going to sleep after a night of debauchery in
the States. We grabbed a bottle of champagne and took to the dance floor by storm;
other than a gay couple making out in a corner, we were the only ones on it. After
we finished the bottle and subsequently sweated it out, an unknown amount of time
had passed and we were back at our table. My date reached for my purse under a seat
cushion on the couch and opened it to grab his cell phone.
    “ Dios santo ,” he shouted. “I have 17 missed calls.”
    I raised an eyebrow and gave him a dirty look. “How many girlfriends
do you have again?”
    He winked at me and put a finger to his lips to signal he’d never
tell. I grabbed his phone playfully to check it and recognized Olivia’s number in
it, all his missed calls from her European cell. I’d forgotten she had requested
his number the first night I’d gone home with him in case he was some psychopath
and frowned to myself.
    “What is it?” he grabbed the phone from my hand and stated he didn’t
know that number as his face turned serious.
    I gently kissed his forehead and told him to call Olivia back, explaining
she was probably worried and apologizing for her serial stalking. Gabriel stepped
out to make the call and asked the waiter for two more bottles on his way out. Much
to my disappointment, when he returned 20 minutes later, he’d brought Olivia and
Jonah with him.
    A couple of hours and many glasses of champagne in, it dawned
on me that in order for anything to truly end, we must go back to the start. Across
the table, the air was diffused with a tension neither of us would openly recognize,
yet its existence was menacing and undeniable beneath all the neon lights. Ignoring
Jonah and staying in the moment proved an exercise in futility, and when I could
no longer take the awkwardness permeating the air, I announced I was going to the
bathroom. Gabriel grabbed my hand and pulled me in for a kiss whose passion sunk
nations, my cheeks burning as I tore away from him and sensed all eyes on me as
I walked away.
    Halfway to the restroom, I felt a hand grab me and turned only to
be shoved against Jonah by a waitress rushing with drinks to a table. She apologized
over her shoulder and kept walking, leaving me in strong arms wrapped around my
waist that prevented me from toppling over. Viable means of escaping without looking
crazy seemed unlikely, so I simply stayed there with my head on his chest as he
held me, hundreds of people pushing and shoving around us toward the dance floor
and bar.
    “Europe isn’t exactly known for their great service, is it?” he joked,
not loosening his grip on me.
    “No,” I smiled to myself and pulled away, but he didn’t budge as he
allowed the crowd to move us. “I was headed to the bathroom, you know.”
    He cocked his head and laughed. “You’re a liar.”
    I lost my ability to argue at that moment and leaned into him, closing
my eyes and welcoming the swaying bodies that brought us closer together. When I
opened them again we were in the middle of the dance floor and Jonah was looking
down at me with intense eyes.
    “Leave with me right now.”
    “And go where?” I questioned in disbelief. “You’ve lost it.”
    “Better to lose it than to lose you,” he growled, bitterness flashing
in blue eyes that stared down at me.
    “I don’t know what to say to you, Jonah” I replied, and as he brought
his face down to mine without preamble and our mouths collided. It became apparent
nothing needed saying. His lips eagerly kissed mine as the club and everything in
it became irrelevant. I grabbed his shirt fervently, pulling him closer to me as
we both gasped for air and a feeling of guilty passion engulfed me. He gently bit
my lip as I dug my fingertips into the muscles on his back, desperately searching
for the reason that had escaped me momentarily. I finally brought