Before You (24 page)
Authors: Amber Hart
diego
I
am the eye of a hurricane. So much destruction all around me, and nothing but calm within. Silence. Floating. Mercy. Awe.
Faith said yes.
I pull the ring out of the box and place it on her finger. She twirls the silver band. It catches a flicker of moonlight and shimmers more beautifully than any jewel ever could.
“It's gorgeous, Diego,” she whispers.
Her lips touch mine. We are passion and love and hope, hope, hope.
I carry Faith in my arms back to the bungalow. She laughs all the while. I only stop once we reach the curtain of beads. The careless moon spills itself into the bedroom, covering Faith in its silver hue like wet paint. I kiss her lips. Soft. Sweet. Mine.
Mine.
Gently I lay her on the bed. She kisses me tenderly, like we have all the time in the world. And we do. I ease her shirt over her head, tracing the outline of her bra before removing that, too. I kiss down her shoulders, up her stomach. She is beautiful. In every way.
Faith takes off my shirt. Her gaze travels to the scar; it spans the distance from my chest to my stomach like railroad tracks. Then she does the best thing. She kisses me. My scar, I mean. She kisses all the way down my wound. My eyes almost water. The emotion I feel when she kisses my weakness is intense.
“I love you,” she says.
I cover her lips with mine. I kiss her with all that I have, every emotion. I wonder if she can feel my heart beating. She gasps when I hold her close. Gooseflesh covers both of us. When she touches me, I lose it.
“I want you,
mi amor
,” I say in a raspy voice.
“I am yours,” she whispers.
And I am hers, too. She is the key that unlocked my darkness. She poured in millions and millions of kilowatts of sunshine. I've never really thought about it before, but it's amazing how dark I once was. I see it now that I have such brightness in my life.
I randomly remember a saying about two people becoming one. Now I get it. I feel it, as though
mi alma
is literally merging with hers.
And I will never be the same.
Â
Bliss. Making love to my girl was pure bliss. Afterward, she curls into and around me. I hold her close, breathing in the smell of strawberries. They will always remind me of Faith. She smiles.
“
Te amo, preciosa
,” I say.
“I love you, too,” she replies.
That is all I need in this life.
Faith.
Hope.
A future.
Thanks to another chance at life, I can give her everything I have, every ounce of love and passion flowing through my Cuban blood. And then some.
I briefly remember the pain, the struggle, the losses.
But.
“No matter how tough life gets,” I say as I lean in to kiss Faith's lips, “I'm glad to be livin' it.”
In that moment, one thing is blatantly clear to me: some stuff lasts forever. Like love. Even when the world says no, even when no one else believes but you, some things linger. They ebb and flow like an echo off the walls of infinity. Over and over again. Because not even death can kill them.
And the forever moment is a lot like flying freely on broken wings made new.
Read on for a sneak peek at
After Us,
the sequel to
Before You,
available next January.
melissa
T
he beach is a moving canvas of people.
Cabanas and waves and bathing suits and sand castles all blend together to create a serene picture of life on the coast. The sky is on fire with blues and yellows and oranges. Tiny puffs of clouds like wisps of cream. Sunscreen lotion saturates the air, smelling like SPF and sweat. I squint through the blaring sun and walk toward a crowd of girls lying on their bellies with the strings to their tops undone. Bare backs naked of tan lines.
“Frozen margarita, extra salt,” I say, giving the drink to a girl with blond hair a shade darker than mine.
I balance the tray on one palm. Hand off drinks with another. Like a machine dispensing snacks.
“Piña colada.” Next girl. “Sex on the beach.” Next. “Vodka and tonic.” Last. “Rum and Coke.”
I smile. Compliment one of the girls on her leg tattoo. Girls love compliments. Eat them up like sugar.
I don't know these girls. I don't know most of the people splayed out on the beach like a deck of cards. Ordering alcohol like water, trying any reprieve to cool themselves down from rays that bake them to burnt crisps.
It's too hot to be alive today. It's burning. The air is breathing fire all over me. The sun is pressing so hard into my skin that it's turning red. If I close my eyes, I can imagine my skin melting off like wax. I'm dripping sweat. Body glistening as though I've jumped in the water. I haven't.
“Thanks,” the girl with the leg tattoo says.
One of the girls ties her top and flips over, insistent on showing me her low hip tats. Two pink bows wrapping up the package of a perfect body.
I remember what it was like to have a perfect body.
“Love it,” I say. And I do.
I can never get a tattoo there.
I don't wear bikinis anymore. My swimwear is a collection of one-pieces. Covering certain fragments of me that I'm not willing to show. Holding me together. Though admittedly still racy, especially the one I've got on today, the suit that hugs me like a glove, fitting my every muscle and curve. It's white with wavy ruffles like sea foam over the material around my breasts, plumping them up. A simple tie in the back to support the front. A small triangle covering my backside. Nothing but tiny pieces coming together, exposing skin. A runway of fabric lining my stomach and down, down. About four inches wide. Just enough.
My tray is still stacked full of drinks for another group of people. They look like towers. Like a whole miniature city of skyscrapers and small circular buildings crammed together. Drowning in liquid.
I wait for cash.
A quick glance tells me that the five girls have tipped me something close to fifteen bucks. Not bad.
“Enjoy the heat,” I tell them by way of good-bye.
On to the next customer.
All around me, sun tints skin a soft brown, sometimes red. Corners of beach towels flutter in the slight breeze like stingray wings. It hurts to look at the ocean, glittery and reflecting light.
I've already checked IDs for the five guys waiting on drinks. Each tall and muscular, with the sort of deliciously ripped bodies that belong in a place like this. Each ordering Corona bottlenecks. I hand out the beers and accept their cash. Flirt a little. Makes for better tips.
“What are you guys doing out here today?” I ask. Grin.
“
Nada, mami
,” one says in a Latino accent, taking a seat on a lounge chair. The others follow suit. “Just enjoying this weather. Wanna enjoy it with me?”
He pats his lap. Like I'd actually sit on it.
“Can't,” I say. Wink at him. “Have to work.”
The guy leans forward. Checks me out. I check him out right back. Shaved head, nice lips.
His friends look, too. Except for one. I can't see the face of the one looking toward the water with dark sunglasses on.
“I'll have one, too,” he says, still not glancing my way.
What is so interesting that you can't look a person in the eye?
I check the water. Nothing out of the ordinary.
“ID, please,” I say. Nothing personalâcan't serve underage. Even though I'm eighteen and understand. It isn't worth losing a prime job at the busiest hotel on the beach. A job that pays really well, with customers who tip even better.
He hands it to me, still not looking up. I glance at it. I don't need to see his full face to know that it's not him. Looks more like the guy sitting next to him than the guy handing it to me.
“Gonna have to do better than that,” I say.
I need the money that this job provides. With three sisters away at college and Mom working double nursing shifts to support them, I need whatever I can get. Everything we have is stretched thin. A bubble about to pop.
His rough sigh says he's not happy with my response. He turns to me.
Tick, tick, tock.
Boom.
Time breaks into a million shards. Tiny slivers of moments. Trapping me. My breath catches.
He sees me then. Moves his sunglasses to the top of his head to get a better look. Eyes narrow. Unbelieving.
I can't find enough seconds to understand what's happening here. I heard that he moved away. I'm searching desperately for a breath of fresh air, but I can't find one.
Wavy brown hair that's almost black. Thick lips that I've kissed once before.
I'm staring at tattoos that wrap around his shoulders, hugging him. A hundred different images, all black and white. Photographic. I'm looking at a sun over his left collarbone, the only bit of light shining into the chest piece. Clouds ripple under his neck like waves. His shirt is off and I'm staring too hard, I realize, because his friends start laughing.
It's a memorial. The piece is to remember someone he lost.
“Melissa?”
There's a timber in his voice that makes my insides gooey. I'm melting ice cream on this hideously hot day. He says my name like it's painful for him, looking at me with those incredulous eyes. Willing me to say something, anything, but I can't. I can't.
I run away instead. My feet propel me forward, fast, churning sand beneath my heels. I don't care when a shell cuts the underside of my foot. Or when tiny grains of sea bottom become a natural Band-Aid.
I need to breathe.
I hate that he is here right now.
I love that I've been given another chance to see his face.
“Wait,” he calls from behind me.
I won't stop.
Fast, fast, faster.
He won't stop.
Just go, just go, just go.
I'm not quick enough.
“Wait,” he says again, grabbing my arm lightly.
Five fingers that burn memories into my skin.
I turn to the sound of his voice.
“Javier,” I say, choking on his name. Choking on the memories.
Me and Faith, my best friend. At this same beach. Months ago.
Javier and his cousin Diego, in the water. Faith needed to get Diego's attention. Faith needed Diego in so many ways. I needed to know what Javier's mouth tasted like. I told myself that it'd be fun.
Love was Faith's style. Fun was mine.
I try to shut out the memory. Can't.
Javier's lips were every bit as amazing as I'd thought. Plump and gentle and rough and perfect.
We never did more than that. Never talked about the fun day at the beach. Never pursued what we left behind.
I never told him that I've wanted him ever since.
I got the idea for Before You while reflecting on my younger years. So for that, I thank my hometowns, Orlando and Atlanta. You are both strangely beautiful citiesâdiverse and unique and even harsh at times, but you are mine.
Endless gratitude goes out to the ladies who were there from the start: Jenn Sy and Genevieve Gagne-Hawes. Jenn, your friendship is invaluable, and I can only hope to one day shine as bright as you. Genevieve, your friendship makes me a stronger writer and a better human being. To you both, forever hugs. And fudge. Always fudge.
Thank you to Dan Lazarâthe first agent to read this manuscriptâfor calling my words lovely. And an even bigger thank-you to my amazing agent, Beth Miller, for inhaling this story, for supporting and believing in my words, and for every e-mail, call, and moment that led up to this. Writers House, you are truly the best home an author can ask for.
To the publishing team at KTeen, especially Alicia Condon, I am so grateful that you love Faith and Diego as much as I do. Your enthusiasm and energy made Before You possible.
Dad, thanks for buying me all those books as a kid, even though I read each one in a day. I never remember a time when I asked for just one more and you told me no. There wasn't such a thing as too many books. I still remember out trips to the library, too, my home of sorts. It was my favorite childhood place, and my favorite person to be there with was you.
The biggest thanks of all goes to my family. You are my everything. Each breath, every second, is all for you. I love you.
R, your Spanish made this book beautiful. I will forever cherish the moments we spent between pages. And every moment after that.
And finally, for the readers out there who know what it's like to have their wings broken, to live a tough life, to wonder if hope is real . . . this is for you.
- Both Faith and Diego begin their journey by running from their pasts. How important is it to overcome past obstacles? Is there anything in your past that troubles you still?
- From the start, misfortune finds Diego. What would you do if a gang approached you for initiation? Do you agree with Diego's decision to fight the gang members? Would you have handled the situation differently?
- Faith doesn't learn about the gang, or Diego's past involvement with a cartel, right away. Diego chooses to keep that from Faith to protect her. Just as Diego joined the cartel to protect and provide for his family. To what lengths would you go to protect and provide for the ones you love? Is there such a thing as too far?
- Diego is judged by his appearanceâtattoos, scars, ethnicity. Likewise, Faith is judged by the appearance she projectsâtop student, daughter of a pastor, conservative clothes. How important are appearances? What are your thoughts on stereotypes?
- Cultural differences show throughout the book. Do you think culture shapes a person? What do you think of the scene where Diego shows Faith the Cuban market? Is it important to learn about other cultures? Should culture ever be a barrier between people?
- The loss of a parent is something no teen should have to face, but many do. Faith never knows what became of her mom. Do you think this is a good or bad thing? Can it possibly be both? And what about Diego's mom? Do you think having closure makes letting go any easier?
- Faith turned to drugs to numb her emotional pain. What would you do if someone offered you drugs? What if you were like Melissa and knew someone struggling with drugs? Would you get them help?
- In the end, Diego is offered a second chance at a clean life, and Faith decides to help people in underprivileged countries. Do you believe Diego deserves a second chance? How can you help those in need?
- Though they both have difficult pasts, despite the fact that they've made mistakes, through their cultural differences, Faith and Diego fall in love. What does love mean to you? Do you think that their dream of a brighter future is possible? What does it mean to fly on broken wings?
