Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Julio noticed, too, because what man wouldn’t? I could feel his gaze sizzling along my curves on occasion, although when I turned to look at him, his eyes always darted away with a guilty flush. And the problem is that Stephanie works a lot, as in a lot lot. Real estate is a service business, and if your client wants to see a particular property at 7 p.m. on a Sunday night when you’re having dinner with your family, then so be it. Stephanie would get dressed, put on her make-up, and zoom off in her Mercedes sedan at the drop of a hat. It happened a lot too because my mom caters to billionaires who fly into town on a whim, and for whom white glove service is an expectation. But they pay well, and Stephanie understood her role. My mom always showed up with a smile, and never complained about the toll on her personal life.
So yes, Julio and I started to spend more and more time alone together, and our relationship started out innocently enough. We were hanging by the pool when Stephanie was called away by Thomas Igwumu, who was allegedly looking to buy a penthouse somewhere on Billionaires’ Row. Never mind that Igwumu is allegedly a despot in his native country, with a record of heinous humanitarian crimes against his own countrymen. As my mom explained to me, she doesn’t question her clients’ choices outside of real estate because it’s not her place. Her role is restricted to helping them find a beautiful home to fall in love with, and nothing more.
But after Stephanie departed, Julio and I were left alone to sun ourselves. I sipped on a Diet Coke while he enjoyed a frosty Corona, and we made desultory conversation as the aquamarine pool rippled in the afternoon heat. It was a gorgeous day, and our conversation slowly grew more intense as the weather warmed. I revealed how the mean girls at school sometimes bullied me, and how I’d retreat to the women’s bathroom to eat my lunch in one of the stalls. It sounds silly, I know, not to mention gross and unsanitary, but it was a tough situation, and Julio understood my dilemma.
Even more important, he didn’t laugh it off or treat it as a “teenage problem” that would fix itself. Instead, he listened intently and suggested solutions. Maybe I could go to the library, and eat among the cool darkness of the stacks. Or if there was a club I was interested in, say Amnesty International or the Photography Fanatics, I could go to a meeting and eat lunch in a classroom without having to duck and hide in the women’s restroom.
I smiled gratefully because Julio made me feel “seen” with his unwavering attention. Although I’d sort of brought up my problems to my mom in the past, Stephanie was a bit too preoccupied to listen intently, and to take my issues seriously. I was also a little embarrassed to reveal such ridiculous problems to my mom when she’d overcome so much as a young woman, and successfully too. I felt lame and somewhat incompetent by comparison.
But Julio provided a kind ear and broad shoulder to lean on. He was never too busy, and would make time in his day so that we could talk privately. Of course, I was over the moon. I was ecstatic to have a friend, and a handsome one too, who was genuinely interested in my life, no matter how inane or ridiculous the details. As a result, Julio and I grew closer over the next couple months. He told me about the various horses he rode, and how they had personalities of their own, including ones that were alternately grumpy, over-excited, or suffering from gout. He educated me about the history of polo, and described how he grew up playing as a young boy in Buenos Aires, and how much he missed the charm and beauty of his hometown.
Soon, I was spending almost all my free time with Julio, and even started hanging out at the stables where he rode. While I was far too scared to actually get up on a horse, I enjoyed brushing their coats and oiling their tack. I admit, I didn’t love mucking out the stalls, but I’ve never shied away from hard work, and it was fine. Most of all, I loved spending time with Julio, and we grew closer and closer as the months passed.
One evening after the barn had been cleaned and Julio had returned from his shower, we talked a little while looking over Journeyman, a particularly ornery pony. Don’t get me wrong because polo horses aren’t ponies. They’re full-sized equines, which are bred specifically for their speed, stamina, and agility, making them ideal for a fast-paced game on the pitch. This particular pony was often grumpy though, and we didn’t know why.