7. Ariella
SEVEN
ARIELLA
GRACIE’S SERIAL KILLER TRAIT IS SITTING IN THE DARK UNTIL SHE CAN INTERROGATE YOU…
My movements were on autopilot as I slipped my key into the door, busy committing everything about Dalton to memory. I wanted it all. The way he looked, the way he moved, every detail accurate for when I dreamt of us rolling around in the sheets. It seemed like my recurring dream with Maluma was getting a fresh lead—a tall, sandy brunette with green eyes and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of.
I may or may not have peeked back at Goaltender.
“Ariella María Elena Contreras, where the hell have you been?” Gracie’s voice caused me to yell out into the darkened apartment, dropping my keys and phone as my cousin ranted on. “Really? What if I was an intruder waiting for you at the apartment? That’s what you would do? Yell out and drop shit? Where have you been, prima ? I thought for sure you’d be asleep in bed.”
The apartment’s lights suddenly flicked on, revealing Gracie sitting on the couch—aka my pseudo-bed— tucking her dark chin-length hair behind her ears like it might let her hear the chisme better. Because that’s what she was after if her shit-eating grin was anything to go by.
I rolled my eyes, toeing off my shoes while trying to figure out how much to tell her about my night. We told each other almost everything, but if I wasn’t careful, she wouldn’t let me sleep, too busy demanding to go over every moment in detail for hours so she could dissect what everything meant.
Which would be fine if I was seeing Dalton again. Hell, I’d probably want that boy-crazy mind of hers to tell me what everything I was feeling meant.
But since tonight was a one-time thing, I decided to shift topics.
“Why are you sitting in the dark like a freak?” I asked, plopping down next to her. “Weren’t you supposed to be out getting your back blown out?”
Dark brows knitted together, her full lips forming an irritated pout. “That would require him to last longer than a few minutes. Honestly, I should have done it in the bathroom at the bar and then gone back out with you. Then I could have classified it as a hot quickie and not a waste of my time.” The look of disappointment morphed into a smirk as she playfully smacked my leg. “But then you wouldn’t have gone slinking off with a man,” she said in a sing-song tone.
“How do you know it was a man?” I challenged, tamping down the stupid smile that threatened to form.
Her toffee-colored eyes nearly got stuck in the back of her head with how hard she rolled them. “Please, you only get all defensive and evasive like this when there’s a man involved.”
She had a point there. I should have known she’d pick up on it right away. We were only a few months apart and more like sisters than cousins. Our moms often told us we were just like them growing up—except my tía and mom were actual sisters.
“So,” she drawled out, practically vibrating with excitement, “what’s his name?”
There was no getting out of this conversation.
“Dalton.” Even I could hear the smile in my tone.
There was a moment of silence before she piped up again. “Dalton? That’s all you have for me? What’s his last name? Date of birth? Star sign? Credit score? Hell, condom size?”
I shot her an unamused look, brow practically in my hairline. As close as we were, Gracie and I were worlds apart in some things. Part of me envied her ability to be so open and fearless. Unafraid to dive into connections without worry.
“I don’t know any of that. We agreed to no personal info.”
She shot out of her seat, her hands landing on my shoulders to shake me. “ ?Dios mío! Did you have your first one-night stand? I’m so proud,” she squealed, pulling me in for a hug.
“No…” My cheeks heated. “I, uh, took him to get chilaquiles after the bar…and maybe pretended to be his date to help him avoid his ex.” I rushed out the last part, bracing for the shit I’d receive.
She pushed away, throwing herself onto the couch with enough dramatic flair to make a telenovela star jealous. “ Perdóname , did I just hear you say you pretended to be his date so he could avoid his ex? What happened to Girl Code, Ari? Was he really that hot?” Her usually raspy voice had jumped a few octaves in shock.
“No. Well, yes, he is that hot, but that wasn’t the reason I did it.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “I told him no, but then she came over and was mean to him.”
“Mean to him?” Gracie asked, placing the back of her hand on my forehead. “Are you okay? When has a woman being mean to a man bothered you? Correct me if I’m wrong, but normally, you’re the one being mean to men.”
I swatted her away. “If you give me a second, then I could get to the part where she completely ignored me, as if I was nothing more than dirt under her expensive shoes, and you know how I feel about that.” I pointed at her for emphasis. “And I am not only mean to men. I’m mean to anyone who deserves it; it just so happens that most of those people are men. Another aspect of life the patriarchy has successfully infiltrated.”
She snorted and her hair broke free from behind her ear as she nodded. “First of all, I gave you plenty of time to tell me all of that. You were staring off into space, drooling, but this makes way more sense. Girl Code doesn’t count if you’re?—”
“A cunt,” we said in unison.
Gracie stood, moving toward her bed tucked in one corner of the studio while I prepped the couch for sleep. The narrow cushions, lumpy and threadbare from years of use, seemed to mock me as I tucked my hot pink checkered sheets around them, a stark reminder of why things with Dalton couldn’t go anywhere.
I had goals, and sleeping on a couch at twenty-five was not one of them. Neither was moving back into my parents’ house, where I’d get stuck fending off all the suitors my family threw my way. They’d probably take it as a sign that the dreams I’d worked so hard for, the ones they disapproved of, had failed.
This new job was it—my all-or-nothing. There was no room for the emotions or distractions that came along with a man.
“So,” Gracie’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. She was curled up on her side, having settled into her own bed, watching me with a smirk. “When are you seeing him again?”
“I’m not.” My voice held more bite than I’d meant it to. “I told you we didn’t get phone numbers or anything, and I have to focus on work.” I tossed my blanket over the sheets. “And on making enough so you can have your space back.”
Even in the dim lighting from her twinkle lights, which hung as a makeshift headboard, I could make out my cousin’s frown. “You know you can stay here as long as you’d like. And meeting people is a good thing, not a distraction. What are you planning on doing? Working all the time and never having fun? Or getting laid? A novio ? Life’s about more than work, Ariella.”
I dropped onto my makeshift bed. The well-worn cotton sheets were like a warm hug, the checkered fabric cool against my skin. I lay there, cocooned in that familiar fabric, feeling a gnawing restlessness I hadn’t anticipated. Tonight shouldn’t have affected me this way. Yet there I was, wondering if Gracie had a point.
Fucking mescal.
After a while, my cousin’s even breathing told me it was safe to whisper out my insecurity. The one I kept buried deep inside.
“I don’t know how to do both. And I don’t want to get stuck like our moms.”
My lids fluttered shut, the buildup of emotions draining me and pulling me under. But right before drifting off, a cha-ching sounded from my phone, and my eyes flew open.