The Right Kind of Wrong: A Brother's Best Friend Romance by Fabiola Francisco (open ebook .TXT) 📗

friends. Sometimes it’s not so easy to make friends with the locals, and they’ve taken us under their wings, introduced us to their friends, and guided us when it comes to living in this city.

“Hey,” I take a seat on the empty chair waiting for me.

“Sexy.” Rubén’s deep accent comes out as he waggles his eyebrows.

“It’s just a dress,” I tug at the hem noncommittally.

“And the hair is…” He snaps his fingers. “How do you say…sex kitten.”

“What?” My eyes pop out of my head as I laugh. “No way!”

“You’re looking for…” He trails off, but his dancing eyebrows give away exactly what he means, his heavy English accent adding to his charm.

I laugh and shake my head, Vanesa and Dawn looking at us with amused expressions.

“How about we get drinks, yeah?” I nod, picking up the cocktail menu, although I know I’ll order a glass of wine. But what the hell? Maybe tonight is different. Maybe tonight I want to go a little wild and drink a martini or something. I scan the menu, seeing if anything calls my attention, and my eyes land on margaritas.

After we order and toast, I take a sip of the margarita, sighing as I close my eyes. This is much better than I anticipated, the perfect balance of tequila, sour, and sweet flavors.

“Tequila… A qué te pone?” Rubén’s eyes sparkle, and I furrow my eyebrows.

“What?” I ask in confusion.

Vanessa laughs, holding her stomach. “Rubén,” she scolds. “Ignore him. You know how he is.”

“What does ‘qué te pone’ mean?” Dawn asks, her own curiosity getting the best of her.

“It means it gets you horny,” Vanesa chuckles again.

“Rubén!” I squeak. “Margaritas do not do that to me.”

“I don’t know, but something is different about you.” He points at me, squinting one eye as if that will give him a better view into my soul or something.

“Whatever,” I shrug him off and take another sip, enjoying the cocktail while we wait for the few tapas we ordered to arrive.

Music plays in the background, just loud enough to be heard but not enough to disrupt the flow of conversation. The white and black bar buzzes with people out on a Saturday night. Spain is a social country, and I learned that firsthand when I wandered alone to have coffee once after first moving and saw a ton of people at tables with friends having coffee together.

There’s always an excuse to celebrate and get together, and gatherings aren’t the short events I’m used to in the United States.

A lunch here can run as long as six hours, and even then, you move on to a bar for drinks since, by the time you leave, it’s already time to have a glass of wine. It’s fast-paced in the city and yet slow-living, where you can really enjoy the moment and the company. It’s a fascinating mindset and way of living when you really think about it.

Rubén tells us about his recent failed date. The guy is as social as they come, but he’s been in search of his happy ending since he was seventeen and came out to his family. He told me once that he assumed his parents knew he was gay, but it was about him having the courage to state it, take a step toward his true identity, and I admire him for that. Few people dare to show the world who they truly are without pretenses or covering up their vulnerabilities.

We continue to drink and eat, thoughts of Camden slipping further from my mind after each sip I take of my margarita, and each ridiculous comment Rubén makes. Leaning back on my chair, I look around and smile. I never imagined I’d live outside of the United States, but this has been one hell of an experience.

“Let’s go,” Vanesa calls over the music, now pumping louder as the bar transitions into a lounge. I stand and hold on to the chair to get my footing as the three margaritas I drank hit me at the same time, causing me to sway.

“Whoa…” Dawn loops her arm in mine. “Are you okay?” Her eyebrows pop on her forehead.

“Yeah,” I nod. “Come on.” Using her guidance, I follow Vanesa and Rubén to some bar I’ve never been to that’s full to the brim with dancing bodies and deafening music. The dim lighting makes it hard to make out the people, or it could be the margaritas blurring my vision, but I do see Vanessa hug some people and Rubén dance in excitement.

After quick introductions, we’re all dancing and singing. My inhibitions drop, and I sway to the music in time with the guy that’s dancing behind me. I turn around with a lazy smile.

“Hola,” he leans in and whispers his greeting. Despite the loud music, his one word sounds clear and deep in my ear. I look up at him and see shaggy hair, a stubbled jaw, and smiling eyes.

For all I know, he wants to have some fun between the sheets and leave before the sun rises, but what harm does dancing with him do? Besides, Noel’s advice rings loud and clear over the overwhelming music and thumping beats, so I decide to let loose and have fun. Camden begone, and hello sexy Spaniard.

Taking my movements as a hint, his hands land on my hips, and he moves closer, grinding into me. I swallow my surprise and look down. There’s one benefit of tight jeans — holy cobra pushing into me. Yeah, it’s safe to say he plans to take this dance off the dance floor and straight into a bed. I’m sure he couldn’t care less whose bed it is.

When Dawn winks and hands me a beer, I gratefully take it to wash down the surprise of this guy’s erection against me, and I realize I don’t know his name.

Calling out loudly, I ask him.

“Sergio,” he calls back. “Inglesa?” he asks if I’m British, and I shake my head.

“Americana,” I correct him.

“Ahh…” he smiles, spinning me around,