Before You (16 page)

D
iego's lips are better than a drug, subduing my pain, blurring the edges of my world. The kiss breaks me.

It's different from our first. Softer. Gentler. His hands wind through my hair. Mine explore his stomach. His muscles are rock-hard beneath the thin fabric. His kiss deepens. My blood thrums faster.

His tongue eases out, tempting mine to do the same. When his hands move to my hips, touching the exposed skin, I shudder. Diego lowers me to the floor so that I lie flat with him poised over me. My hair falls to the ground, fanning around me. I feel oddly exposed.

“Diego,” I say.

“
Mami,
” he groans. “Please don't tell me you can't kiss me.”

His mouth presses harder. His fingers lightly trace the spaghetti straps of my tank top, a pleasurable tickle. His lips find my neck. I arch my head back.

“Diego,” I repeat.

He looks at me, his eyes heavy with pleasure.

“Wait,” I say. I reach under my back, pull out markers. I laugh. He smiles. “Sorry,” I say. “That was uncomfortable.”

He kisses me again. “It's okay. Thought you were goin' to tell me to stop for good.”

His lips are red against his dark skin.

“I don't want you to stop,” I admit. “You're right. I do feel something. I have since the first day I saw you sitting in the office.”

Diego grins. “
Yo sé
.”

“Confident much?”

Diego plays with my hair. Pieces fall through his fingers like thread.

“Maybe a little,” he says.

I sigh. “I still can't be with you.”

“Publicly,” he says. “But no one has to know. You said so yourself, you feel something. So do I. I can't ignore it. Will you be mine,
mami
? I won't tell anyone. You can keep face. Not worry about your dad. I swear I won't hurt you. I only want to make you happy. And I'll keep fightin' for you until you say yes, so you might as well—”

I cut him off with a kiss. I lose myself in him, in the moment. I kiss his bottom lip, and then his top. When I part my mouth, he takes the invitation.

Diego's kisses are replaced with panting as he asks, “Is that a yes?”

I laugh. “Yes.”

I can't deny him any longer.

“Finally,” he says, smiling.

Diego is rightness and passion and pleasure. He is sharp edges that give way to softness.

“Kiss me again,” I order.

He lowers his lips to mine, but right before we touch, he backs away. “Faith, I need to know that you'll never tell anyone about the cartel. No one. They don't know that I'm still alive. If they found out they'd—”

“I promise,” I interrupt. I can't stand to hear him say the words.

Diego caresses my cheeks. I refuse to push him away any longer.

“How is this going to work?” I ask.

Diego's eyes are hungry. He doesn't push past kisses. “However you want it to,” he replies.

I trail a finger over his lips. His breath is warm to the touch. “We can see each other in private?” I ask.

“As much as you want.”

“What about school?”

Diego's hand moves from my hair to my hips, resting there.

“Your call.”

“I can't see you at school. I'm not sure if that will work for you. And I understand if it doesn't. I'm sorry to ask you to do this,” I say. “I'm not ashamed of you. Please don't ever think that. You're, well, you're amazing.”

He smiles.

“You understand why I can't face that yet, right?” I ask.

“
Sí, mami
.”

“You're not mad?”

“Nope.”

I sigh. “Maybe when I go off to college, I'll be free. I don't know where I'll go. I haven't started looking or applying but I definitely plan to go far away where no one can judge me.”

Diego lies on his side next to me. I melt into him.

“People will always judge.” He says it with such finality, with such certainty, that I know it to be true.

People will always judge.

I can't change them.

So maybe they shouldn't be allowed to change me.

“Are you sure you're cool with this?” I ask again. “Jason wants me back. Everyone expects us to get back together. You'll hear a lot of gossip.”

“I can handle it,” Diego says. “As long as you don't want him, I don't care what they say.”

I look into his eyes. Confess the truth. “All I want is you.”

His mouth curves up.

“Good,” he says. “ 'Cause now that you're mine, I don't plan on letting you go.”

N
ot an hour ago, my lips were on Faith. I replay her kisses, soft, rough, perfect.

Steaming water pounds into my back like a massage. I wash my hair, then my body. I stay in the shower until the water changes from hot to cool. A towel awaits me, crumpled on the counter. I fit it around my waist on the way to the kitchen.

I open the fridge to find apples, oranges, and two-day old pizza. Sometimes
mi padre
works on yards where people let him pick fruit from their trees. Free food is something he never passes up. I grab an apple and a slice of pizza.

Streetlights glare against the kitchen window like a flashlight in my eyes. I approach the window, taking a closer look at the nightlife below. One glance, and I jump out of view.

I run to my room and reach under my bed, pulling out the 9mm.
Mi padre
gave it back to me when I promised not to carry it around. I check the ammunition. Extra bullets. Just in case. I peek out of my bedroom blinds to get a better view. On the sidewalk stands Wink, like a curse dropped from the sky. At first I'm nervous that maybe the MS-13s have found me, but I quickly realize they are only passing by. I haven't seen them since our street fight. And if I had it my way, I would never see them again.

I go back to my bed and sit. Put my gun down. Normally I wouldn't care, but these guys are different. They want to recruit me. I want nothing to do with them. I have Faith. I'll do anything to make it work with her.

I can't deny anymore that Faith drives me crazy in the best way. And she finally agreed to go out with me. I manage a shaky laugh.

Since when did I have to make girls agree to go out with me?

That's always been an easy point for me. Or many points, if you're keeping score.

Tonight, kissing Faith made me understand what it is to truly want.
More,
I kept thinking. I've never held back, but she's worth it. I don't want to rush her. I've heard rumors about how she wouldn't give it up to Jason, about how Faith has never given it up to anyone.

I glance at the clock.
Tick, tick, tick.
I dress quickly. Javier should be here any minute. Sure enough, he arrives like planned. He's got a smartphone, which works to my advantage since we can't afford Internet at home, and I need to research stuff for several classes. It's not easy to do on such a small screen but I manage, knowing that it's more than I could have hoped for in Cuba.

A tiny screen that connects you to endless information in seconds?
A thing of dreams for most.

A way to educate yourself and rise above violence and poverty?
Never an option before.

When I finish, we work on our psychology papers, which are due tomorrow. I procrastinated, spent time at the beach and at Melissa's instead of studying, and will most likely get my first C, but I don't care. Knowing Faith is officially mine is absolutely worth it.

 

My heart stutters in my chest when I spot Faith at school the next day. She sees me. Her cheeks are roses, blooming, bursting with color.

But she's surrounded by the Fakes. I'm close enough to hear their conversation, something about a dance routine. I'm also close enough to hear them mention me as I pass by. I open my locker and listen.

“Why do you think he left Cuba?” one of the Fakes asks.

“I don't know. The thug thing is kinda hot, though,” another says.

A couple of girls shriek as though she's said something scandalous.

“Oh my God, no, come on. I'd never go for a guy like that,” the girl amends. “He's not relationship material. Might be good for some fun, though.”

“You did not just say that,” a Fake says. “He's probably been with a million girls. You couldn't
pay
me to touch him.”

Faith giggles. Playing the part. Though I know she won't, though I know we talked about this, I want her to say something in my defense.

Instead, it's Melissa who silences them.

“He couldn't have been with any more people than you, Zara.”

The girls are shocked. The one Melissa called Zara storms off while the others mumble their good-byes and leave for class.

I lock eyes with Faith. She knows I heard.

We don't talk to each other. Not then. Not at lunch. Not in psychology. But in the library, Faith waits for me, a big smile on her face.

“Hey,” she says.

I brush off my annoyance at today's incident. She did warn me that something like that might happen.

“
Hola
,” I reply.

She pulls the tie out of her hair and I am hit by the smell of strawberry shampoo. Hair falls down her shoulders, cascading.

Preciosa.

“I wasn't sure if you'd come now that your detention is over.”

“Of course I came,” I reply. I wouldn't miss time with her
.

Melissa and Lori are late. I take the opportunity to pull Faith behind a bookshelf.

“
Mi cielo,
you look
hermosa.
”

She smiles, too much brightness in that one motion.

“What are you doing tonight?”

I wish I didn't have to work because I think maybe she's going to ask me to chill with her. “Working,” I answer.

She bites her lower lip. Looks at the floor shyly. It takes all I have not to kiss her.

“I was thinking maybe I could pick you up from work,” she whispers.

The air is electrified. Sparks ignite and pop along the invisible live wire that connects our bodies. I want to touch it, no matter the pain, just to feel her.

“Of course,” I answer.

“What time?” Her lashes flutter.

“Ten.”

“Okay,” she says.

I stuff my hands in my pockets so that I don't grab her.

“No one will see you around back of the restaurant,” I say. It's a given that Faith won't walk through the front door to pick me up. “There's a spot by the fence. I'll meet you there.”

“Okay,” she says again.

Faith looks around quickly like a crow about to steal an egg, and then walks back to our regular spot by the books. I wait a second before joining her. I wouldn't do this for anyone else. Pride is a serious thing. I have to bite mine back.

I want the world to know that she belongs to me.

Melissa and Lori eventually show up, and by the end of the day, we're ready for the fair. I kind of wish we weren't because I won't see Faith in the library after school anymore. Maybe she'll make picking me up from work a regular thing.

I feel like at any minute, it could all disappear. I want to do something special for Faith. On the way home, I detour through the school parking lot. Faith has dance practice, which means her car will be there. I pick wildflowers and make sure no one's looking as I slip the bouquet under her windshield wiper.

I only wish I could see her expression when she finds them.

I
pull up to Applebee's, my stomach churning like I've swallowed snakes. I'm nervous. And excited. I try not to look at the back entrance a hundred times.

I reach for the door handle, and spot Diego. He can't see me in the dark, but I smile in his direction anyway.

Diego is beautiful under the light that shines on the back door. He pauses. Pulls out a cigarette. Lights it. I try not to cringe. I know he smokes. I've smelled it on him. I've seen him light up before. It bothers me, but I'll never ask him to stop. It's not my place.

I fidget with my skirt. In my hair is one of the wildflowers he left on my car. My sandals, the straps winding up my lower legs like vines, match my top. The skirt cuts off above the knee. The tank top is a V-neck, but not too low. Definitely not what I would normally be seen wearing but I want to be the real me with Diego.

A metal fence guards the back door. Security reasons, I'm guessing. Diego has one hand on the door when a blond girl walks up behind him. Her arms wrap around his waist. Every one of my muscles clenches.

It's not hard to see Diego's reaction. He's surprised. His hands fly to hers, unwrapping her arms from his body like a bow from a present. He says something. She frowns. Then smiles, not giving up.

I'm out of the car before I realize I've stepped into the night, and I'm almost at the door when I hear Diego tell the girl that it's not going to happen. I can just imagine what it is she wants.

Diego looks up at me and smiles. “
Hola, princesa.
”

The girl says nothing as Diego opens the metal door. I turn to her. Extend my hand. “Hi. I'm Faith.”

Kill her with kindness.

“Sabrina,” she says, clearly thrown off guard.

“Nice to meet you,” I reply. Shake her hand.

Diego is skeptical.

I stand on my tiptoes. My arms reach around Diego's broad shoulders. My fingers clutch his hair as I bring his face down to mine for a deep kiss. The kiss goes on for a while, yet it's still not long enough.

I break away gently, and am rewarded by a small grunt from Diego. He wants more.

“Oh, and by the way,” I say pleasantly, turning to Sabrina. “Don't ever touch my boyfriend again.”

Diego laughs. Sabrina is a hurricane, storming back inside.

“Well played,” he says in my ear.

I grin.

“Do it again,” he orders.

“Do what again?” I ask, though I know what he wants.

“Don't play with me,” he replies hoarsely.

“Don't know what you're talking about,” I say, holding back a smile.

He pulls me to him. His heart jackhammers against my skin. Both of our pulses are thick with yearning.

“You know what I want to hear,” Diego says against my lips. “
Mami,
you called me your boyfriend
.
”

“That's because you are.”

He kisses me then. His tongue is thunder, rolling against mine, muting all else around me. His hands weave under the back of my shirt and up my spine. His lips are soft, plump. I bite them gently. He bites me back.

His fingers trace my ribs, strumming them like a violin. I want to make music for him. I forget about everything. My brain shuts down. My heart takes over.

Diego is right for me. A missing link. I kiss along the stubby hair on his jaw, reach his mouth.

“
Mi novio,
” I say, liking the way Spanish feels on my lips. “Only mine.”

“
Siempre
,” he replies.

He presses me against the metal gate and cups my face, kissing me again.

The click of a lighter catches my attention. We have an audience.

When did they come outside?

Probably when I lost myself in Diego. Two Latinos in chef hats light cigarettes. I pull away. The desire in his eyes is matched in mine.

Diego says something in Spanish. The guys laugh. Diego's cigarette burns on the ground where he dropped it when I kissed him. I press it out with my foot and grab his hand. We walk to my car.

Inside my car, Diego gives me another kiss. I start the engine. It purrs like the pleasure in me.

“You know, for someone who wants to keep this on the down low, you're pretty open so far,” he teases.

I look away from him when I answer. “Couldn't stand her on you.”

Somehow I know his eyes are still on me, resting, burning, consuming.

“I would never jeopardize what I have with you. In the past, I admit, I saw two girls at once, but I'd never do that to you,” he says.

“I know,” I reply, flashing a grin.

When we pull up to Diego's apartment, I wait for him to invite me in. He leans over the center console and kisses me. I'm a little hurt when he reaches for the door handle, not asking me up.

“No invitation?” I throw the question out casually. My insides say something entirely different.

“You sure you want one?” he says.

My eyes scan the dilapidated building, copying it to memory. Sun has aged it. Yellow paint flakes like peeling skin from the sides. The concrete is covered in graffiti.

It doesn't look too bad.

“Why wouldn't I want to go inside?” I ask.

“Seriously?” he says, and then laughs. “Look at it. The outside is better than the inside.”

“What are you trying to say?”

Diego realizes that I'm not smiling.

“I'm teasin'
,
” he says. “It's just that my apartment is a lot different from what you're used to.”

“How do you know what I'm used to?” I ask sharply.

“ 'Cause I've seen Melissa's house. Yours is only a few spots down. Where I live is nothin' like that.”

“You say it like I live in some mansion,” I retort. “I live in a regular house. We don't have a lot, Diego.”

“I'm not sayin' you do,” he replies. “Come inside. You're always welcome here. Just, you know, be prepared for less than average.”

I rap my fingers on the wheel. Each pound is a release.

“It's not what you have that matters to me. You know I don't care about that kind of stuff,” I say. “As a matter of fact, I despise it.”

“
Perdón, mami.
I didn't mean to be rude.”

I try to relax. “It's okay.”

I cut the engine and follow him to the door. There's no number on the outside.

Inside, the walls are white and plain. No decorations besides a worn-out couch and a small kitchen table with two chairs. One wicker. One wood. None of it matches. I'm guessing they took whatever they could to get by when they arrived in the States. More proof that Diego left Cuba with nothing but his life.

He's lucky to have that.

His place is minimal and tiny and a little dirty and unimpressive and perfect.

Diego studies me. I grin. I don't care what conditions he lives in. It's a clean life. Away from the cartel. That's all that matters.

He leads me to two doors within earshot of each other. The one on the left has a small mattress on the floor and a dresser. Diego stops in front of the closed door.

His room, says the smirk on his face.

“Have to tell you, I never thought you'd be comin' in here,” he remarks. “Don't get me wrong, I'm loving it. Just didn't think it would happen for someone like me.”

“Likewise,” I reply.

I never thought someone could know my secrets and not run away. Look at the way Jason handled things. I invite him to see a slice of the real me, and he breaks things off? Says a lot. But Diego doesn't.

Inside his room, the scent of Diego is strong, curling around my body. The space is small but comfortable. A light wood dresser leans against one wall. A bed sits opposite. Diego's books and homework litter one corner of the room. There's nowhere for us to sit except on the mattress.

“So, what do you think?”

“It's perfect,” I say. I mean it.

He laughs humorlessly. “Hardly.”

“It is,” I argue. “It's simple. Sometimes having more than the basics complicates things. I wish I could live in a place like this. Not that we have a lot; it's just that I think it could be less. I'd prefer less.”

“You're crazy,” Diego says. “Do you know how many people would love to have a place like yours? And you would trade it all for this?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“You're strange, Faith,” Diego says, winding his arms around my waist. “You could have anything you want. Anyone you want.”

“I definitely don't get everything I want. But,” I say an inch away from his lips, “if I could pick anything in this world to hold on to, it would be you.”