19. Elyse
CHAPTER 19
Elyse
EARN BACK OUR PRIVILEGES
17 YEARS OLD
“ W ho wants chorizo?” Raúl, Dominic’s dad yells out as if we’re not all in the same room.
He’s lively today, dancing in place as he grounds the sausage into the pan. He’s making one of my favorites, chorizo con huevo. It’s not exactly a dinner meal, but he makes it for me no matter the time because he knows I like it.
“’Apá, you can stop dancing. We don’t need dinner and a show,” Dominic says, his skin flushed with embarrassment.
I swat his arm, but his dad seems unfazed. “Mijo, music is meant to be danced to.No te preocupes, no es mi intención hacerte pasar vergüenza.” (Don’t worry, it’s not my intention to embarrass you.)
Dominic groans, pulling at his hair. “’Apá, she knows Spanish.”
I giggle, exchanging a look with Raúl. He knows I know Spanish. Well—more like I understand it. Speaking it is a whole other thing. Ethan is way better, practically fluent.
Dominic’s parents have always been more laid-back than mine. His mom, Silvia, is mostly quiet, but with a gentle sweetness, the kind that makes you feel at ease without a word needing to be spoken. I suspect her silence stems partly from not knowing English as well as Raúl, but with her, words feel unnecessary—we understand each other in ways that don’t require translation.
She often teases me for being too skinny, but it doesn’t bother me. If anything, it makes me feel like she’s comfortable around me—like I’m part of the family. Dominic gets more worked up about it than I think is necessary.
Raúl is Silvia’s complete opposite. He’s a whirlwind of energy, always humming a tune, breaking into spontaneous dances, and cracking jokes that make Silvia shake her head with an exasperated but affectionate smile. Dominic is his mirror image in looks—the same strong jaw, the same deep brown eyes—but that’s where the similarities end. Where Raúl fills a room with his presence, Dominic carries himself with a more subtle confidence, a steady energy that doesn’t demand attention but commands it all the same.
Dominic and I are still on thin ice with my parents over the whole tattoo thing, and one of the conditions is that we’re not allowed to hang out unsupervised. My parents talked to his, and everyone—and by everyone, I mean the old people—agreed we can’t be trusted and have to earn back our privileges. I’m glad we don’t have to sneak around, but we’ve barely been able to kiss, let alone do anything more.
“What time is the food going to be done?” Dominic asks.
Raúl glances at the clock on the microwave. “Veinte minutos.” (Twenty minutes.)
“We have some vocab words to go over for a test. Is it okay if we go in my room? We’ll keep the door open.”
Raúl looks over at Silvia, and they both nod their heads in agreement. Which is surprising since Dominic is lying. We don’t even have any classes together this quarter.
I play along, more curious to see what Dominic has up his sleeve.
As we walk down the hallway toward his bedroom, Adrian passes us, exchanging a quick high-five with Dominic before heading in the opposite direction. "You owe me," he calls over his shoulder.
What was that about?
Adrian's voice is impossible to miss—deep, booming, always carrying no matter where he is. I catch the start of some animated story about basic training, his words full of energy, but I don't hear the rest. Because in the next second, Dominic's arms are around me, guiding me backward into his closet.
I barely have time to catch my breath before his lips crash into mine, hungry and demanding. He kisses me like he's starved, his tongue sweeping against mine, hands roaming greedily over my body. Every nerve ending ignites under his touch, setting my skin on fire.
When his lips move to my jaw and start working down my neck, I take in a few shallow breaths while trying to fight a moan.
“Fuck, I thought Adrian was never going to text me back,” he whispers between kisses. “Been trying to get you alone since you got here.”
My stomach dips, a familiar warmth pooling between my hips. It’s only been a month, but it feels so much longer, and my body has been craving him, desperately.
I tug at his hair, needing his lips back on mine. If we only have twenty minutes, I’m not wasting them.
We make out like we haven’t seen each other for weeks as I resist the urge to hike my leg up around his hip, the need for relief growing the longer we kiss .
Dominic drops his head, leaning against my forehead. Our ragged breaths mingle between us. “I’m going to talk to your dad,” he says with an exhale. “With prom and graduation coming up, we have too much to celebrate. And I want you alone. I miss you, querida mía.” He gathers my face in his hands, placing a soft kiss to my lips, soft enough for butterflies to take flight inside my chest. When he’s this careful with me, I can’t help but melt.
“What are you going to say?”
He steps back, straightening his stance. “I’m going to be a man and apologize.”