Rule #13
DISCLOSING PERSONAL FEELINGS DURING A HURRICANE IS STRONGLY DISCOURAGED
CAI
The biggest complaint from my family isn’t the darkness; it’s the heat.
Even though the power has only been out for maybe fifteen minutes, the air is already turning tepid and muggy, thick with humidity and the lingering scent of dinner.
We huddle in the living room near the hall that leads to the rest of the house.
We are a safe distance from the single candle on the kitchen counter, close enough to catch its dim light but not so close that we feel its heat.
The flame flickers as Crispi gives us the last storm update he got before we lost power.
“The worst should hit in the next hour or so,” he says. “Then a little reprieve, then the back half. But that’s not as bad.”
“That’s if it doesn’t change,” Papa chimes in. “You can’t always predict these things.
Sofia breaks in, sounding on the verge of tears. “Does anyone have a signal? I thought we’d have more time.”
Everyone starts checking their phones, shaking their heads. I pull mine out too—and freeze. There is a new message from Trevor, delivered before we lost service.
I stand there, heart hammering, while the group keeps talking around me.
“Everything is holding up fine. We just have to wait it out,” Rey says.
“Abuela says she’s going to bed. You’d think it’d be impossible to sleep with the storm, but you can’t tell her anything,” Mama says, exasperated.
“No water coming in anywhere, so that’s good,” Alex chimes in.
“The power could be out for hours! Shouldn’t we call the police or something?!” Sofia says, hysteria on the edge of her voice.
I tune them all out, take a deep breath, and unlock my phone.
Trevor
LMAO You’re so crazy babe. I’ll talk to you later.
I stared at the screen, stunned. That’s it? After everything? After I flew across the Caribbean, after the lies I’d told my family, he thinks this is a joke? Or has he changed his mind? I have no idea, and what’s worse, I can’t do anything about it. No signal. No way to respond. No closure.
“Do you have signal?!” Sofia grabs my arm, desperation in her voice.
“No,” I say, locking the screen and slipping the phone back into my pocket. “It was a text I got before we lost power.”
Sofia groans dramatically.
I glance over at Sonny. In the dim light, his jaw looks tight, like he is biting his tongue. Or maybe it was just the flickering shadows playing tricks on me.
“Okay, so I say we all change into light clothes to stay cool, and then we can play some dominoes in the den,” Crispi announces, a few people peeling off down the hall to supposedly do just that.
“How are we going to have light?” Alex asks. “Because if it’s going to be like fifty candles turning this place into a sweaty sauna, I’ll just stay in my room.”
“We’ll use the lantern, and I have some popsicles,” Mama says, waving behind her towards the kitchen.
“Real popsicles, or is it like Jupina that you put in the freezer?” Lucas asks. He was Mama’s only grandson and the only one brave enough to call her out like that.
“Ah, well, if you’re too good for Jupina, don’t come,” Mama fires back. Lucas just grins and gives her a quick hug before heading off into the dark hallway.
That seems to be the signal. The group breaks apart, everyone heading to their rooms to change or hunker down.
I know the plan is to go change and play dominoes, but Trevor’s message is drawing me to it; my phone is burning a hole in my pocket.
I need to read the text again. I need to re-read what I had sent him.
Maybe there was something funny in my message I hadn’t considered.
The anxiety is like an itch I want desperately to scratch, but I know there will be no way for me to look at my phone again without being questioned.
In a house lit only by flashlights and candles, there was no way to sneak a peek.
No, further scrutiny will have to wait until I get a minute alone. For now, I have to be a good hostess to Sonny.
Sonny, whom I almost made a fool of myself with in the closet just hours after meeting him, like some floozy.
Sonny, who has been kind and sweet but has made sure I know he isn’t looking for anything serious.
Sonny, who has been a champ with my family, deserves my help getting through this storm. I tap him on the arm and wave my little flashlight. “Come with me.”
He grabs the crook of my elbow as I lead the way back to my room, his touch steady and warm in the darkness.
“Cai, wait—I have to know,” Sonny says urgently the moment we are right outside my door.
My stomach drops. I am suddenly terrified of what he might ask. About the text? About what almost happened in the closet? I’m not ready to explain any of it, not to him, not even to myself.
I hold my breath and turn to face him.
Face stern, he asks, “What the hell is Jupina?!”
SONNY
We enter Cai’s room and pass the lantern back and forth between us as we gather the clothes from our bags.
I have to force myself not to think about the moment in the closet.
I want to play it chill, although I am very not chill about it.
I want to dissect every second, analyze what it means, and figure out where we stand.
I also want it to happen again, and I’m pretty sure the only chance I have of a repeat is not to bring it up. At least not yet.
I notice the moment Cai looks at her phone in the living room, her face changes. She seems suddenly conflicted. She has shoved the phone into her pocket, but her fingers keep drumming on it.
Jealousy is surfacing, raw and ugly. I know it isn’t my place to feel envious or ask about it.
I already pushed my luck with the “some guys don’t look ahead” advice I’d given her to try to distance myself from her loser boyfriend.
I probably shouldn’t have offered her unsolicited advice at all, but when she brings up wanting to be a mom, I want to make sure she understood that her boyfriend isn’t long-term material.
I’m not sure if I can convince her I am.
Harping on it now feels like a bad idea.
So I default to what I always do: make jokes and try to make her laugh.
“Just wear something comfortable,” Cai says. “You’d be surprised how fast the temperature rises once the power goes out.”
Luckily, I brought a pair of basketball shorts. With our clothes picked out, we figure the easiest thing to do is to turn the flashlight off and change. It is impossibly dark with the windows boarded and no power; I can’t see my hand in front of my face.
I try not to imagine the different states of undress she’s in as I hear clothes rustle and hit the floor. In typical Cai fashion, she keeps up a constant stream of conversation.
“I almost didn’t bring this dress. It’s a pool cover-up I bought for a staycation we had to cancel, so I never got to wear it. But I figured, just in case, I’d bring it. It’s a little big, but it’s thin, so it should be cool enough. Are you good?”
I nod before remembering she can’t see me. “Yup.”
Cai turns on the flashlight and sets it on the table behind her to act as a lamp while she picks up the clothes she’d just changed out of. My heart stops.
She’s wearing a kaftan made of thin, colorful material, slightly cinched at the waist. The fabric is so delicate that with the light behind her, I can see her body perfectly silhouetted—soft curves, the gentle swell of her hips, and the full, beautiful shape of her.
She doesn’t look like a model, a video game avatar, or anything I’ve seen a thousand times before.
The women who lusted after me recently, who wanted me for my success, have been described by others as the epitome of female sex appeal.
To me, however, none of those women can hold a candle to Cai.
She was more real somehow. Something that, to me, speaks of pure perfection.
I have always considered myself a gentleman, but for the first time ever, a crack forms in that social politeness.
Something raw and primal is clawing its way out.
Tex Avery’s wolf is howling in my head. My heart races.
I don’t know what it is about her, but my body reacts to Cai the way other people react to amphetamines. I am hooked.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Yes,” I manage. But am I?
We step back into the hallway, the thin beam of her flashlight cutting through the darkness.
The house feels different now—hotter, closer, more alive, with the storm’s relentless blowing a constant now.
As we make our way toward the den, Cai stays quiet.
Every few steps, our arms brush, and each time it sends a spark through me.
Walking from Cai’s room, we can already hear the family gathering: laughter, the clack of dominoes being shuffled, and Mama calling out instructions. Someone had managed to get the big lantern set up so that it casts a warm, golden glow over the room.
Crispiano spots us first as we walk in. “There they are! Are you guys playing?”
Cai gives a small, nervous laugh. “Sonny needs to learn the rules, and you guys aren’t really the educationally supportive type. We’ll sit over here and watch, and I’ll explain the game to him.”
I force a grin, trying to match her lightness, but my mind is still stuck in that closet. On the way her body felt against mine. On the way she hadn’t told me to step back. Seeing her silhouette gave me a visual that made it all the more real.
As we settle onto a loveseat overlooking the card table, the lantern light flickers across her face, I catch her glancing at me again—quick, conflicted, searching. The same look she’d had in the closet.
The game starts, and Cai gives me the play-by-play, explaining the rules and translating the numerous expletives. The real game, the one happening between Cai and me in stolen glances and accidental touches, seems far more important.
I become more lost when trying to figure out what to do next than I do with the lively game of dominoes happening in two languages right in front of me.