Chapter 7 #2
Julia turned and saw a young man perched behind a cluttered table of cracked iPhones and suspicious-looking USB drives.
He grinned at Daniel, finishing a rapid-fire sales pitch to an unimpressed customer.
He looked about seventeen, his shoulder-length hair tucked neatly behind his ears.
His eyes—hazel, like Daniel’s—gleamed with curiosity as they locked onto her.
The resemblance between them was obvious.
Same sharp cheekbones, same quick dimple when he smiled.
He went up to Daniel and pulled him into a quick hug. Daniel clasped a hand on his shoulder and turned to Julia.
“Julia, this is my little brother, Sebastián.”
Sebastián gave her a once-over, then nodded. “Hey.”
She returned the greeting, still taking in how much they looked alike.
Then Sebastián turned back to Daniel, his expression playful. “Is she your girlfriend?”
Daniel smirked. “She’s my none of your damn business, hermanito.” He folded his arms and jerked his chin at the table. "Tell me you’re not selling bricks again.”
Sebastián scoffed, shoving a phone into the customer's hands. "First of all, it works. Second, I offer a money-back guarantee." Then his gaze flicked to Julia again, interest sparking behind his smile.
Julia surveyed the table of electronic flotsam and jetsam behind him. "Do you work here?"
Daniel cut in before Sebastián could embellish. "He hustles here. One week it’s tech, next it’s sneakers. Supply and demand."
"Smart," Julia murmured. She wasn’t sure she meant it as a compliment, but Sebastián took it as one anyway.
"And you?" Sebastián’s eyes gleamed with mischief. "What’s the deal, hermano? You bringing her here to impress her, or—"
"We’re just passing through," Daniel interrupted, voice clipped.
Sebastián sighed theatrically. "That’s a shame, ’cause I might’ve made a small bet with the wrong guy, and I could use some backup."
Daniel groaned. "Sebastián."
"I know, I know," Sebastián said, lifting his hands. "But it’s fine! Probably. I just—"
His words cut off as his shoulders stiffened, his gaze flicking past them, over Daniel’s shoulder.
Daniel turned.
A broad-shouldered man pushed through the crowd, his face set like a thundercloud.
Sebastián muttered a curse. "Time to go."
He moved fast, vaulting over the table in one fluid motion. Julia barely had time to register what was happening before Daniel’s hand found her wrist. His grip was firm, but not rough.
"Hope you’re fast, ballerina."
She didn’t need to be told twice.
They ran.
The mercado blurred around her—faces, stalls, neon lights flashing past in a haze. The air pulsed with bass-heavy music, the rhythm matching the pounding of her heart.
Behind them, a shout. Then another.
Sebastián veered left, disappearing into a curtain of hanging tarps. Daniel tugged her right, shoving past a stack of crates into a narrow alley. The glow of a beer sign flickered weakly above them, casting shadows against damp pavement.
Daniel didn’t slow until they made it all the way back to where the ’Cuda parked. He pulled out his keys, glancing at her.
Julia wasn’t winded. If anything, she felt alive. She let out a breathless laugh, brushing her hair back. "That was intense."
Daniel smiled, unlocking the door. "Yeah? You kept up."
She met his gaze. The adrenaline still crackled between them, hot and electric.
A different kind of danger.
And for a moment, she wasn’t sure which one thrilled her more.
* * *
Daniel leaned against the 'Cuda, fishing in his pocket as the lake stretched out before them, silver under the moonlight.
The night air carried the scent of damp earth and gasoline, mixing with the distant hush of waves against the shore. The chase, the market, the city—it all felt distant now. Here, the night was quiet, the world smaller.
Julia got out of the car and joined him. "You’re not what I expected."
Daniel finally looked at her. "What did you expect?"
Julia thought for a moment, then just shook her head, smiling. "I’m still figuring that out."
He flicked open the lighter attached to his keyring, the flame briefly illuminating the palms of his hands. He touched it to the tip of the joint between his lips, inhaled, then exhaled a slow stream of smoke that curled into the cool night air. "Let me know when you do."
She looked back at the water. “Where’d you learn so much about cars?”
He tapped his joint, watching the ember glow in the dark.
“My dad taught me,” he said, watching the lake.
“He had this big old Chevy Impala. I’d set up obstacle courses in the gravel lot at the end of our street—cones, bits of wood, whatever junk I could find.
I was eleven, could barely reach the pedals.
But I was shit-scared of knocking over a single cone ’cause I knew he’d make me rework the whole body of the car.
” He took another drag, then held the joint out to her.
“And that was one big motherfucking Chevy.”
She eyed it. “I don’t smoke cigarettes.”
His grin was lazy. “It’s not a cigarette.”
Her lips parted slightly. “Oh.”
He waited.
She hesitated another beat, then reached for it, her fingers grazing his as she brought it to her lips. She inhaled.
And immediately choked.
Coughing, she shoved it back at him.
Daniel chuckled. “You good?”
She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and nodded, though her eyes were watering.
Shaking his head, he took another drag and turned his gaze back to the lake. Beside him, she shifted, pressing closer against the car. Out of the corner of his eye, he stole a glance at her.
In the moonlight, she looked unreal. Ethereal. Perfect, full lips. Eyes like some glacial lake.
As if she could feel his gaze, she turned her head, looking up at him. He dropped his chin, scuffing the toe of his boot against the gravel.
“Where in Mexico are you from?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. Just kept watching the water. Then, with an exhale of smoke, he said, “Torreón. We left when I was thirteen.”
“With your parents?”
He nodded.
“Do they all live in Chicago with you?”
His voice was quieter this time. “No. They’re not here.”
She kept looking at him. He flicked the joint onto the damp sand, where it sizzled out. Leaning back against the car, he closed his eyes.
She sighed. Then sighed again.
He cracked one eye open. “Are you freaking out?”
“No,” she whispered. A beat. “Yes.”
He smiled. “Just relax. It’ll wear off in a couple of hours.”
“Really? Because I feel like I might die right now.”
He chuckled, turning toward her. “You’re not gonna die.”
She nodded quickly, though she didn’t look convinced. Her breathing had quickened, her chest rising and falling in a way that was—
Distracting.
“I just keep thinking,” she panted, “that if I stop thinking about breathing, I’ll actually stop breathing.”
His smile deepened. Without thinking, he reached for her hand.
She didn’t pull away. Instead, she slid along the car until their shoulders touched. Lifting his hand, she turned it over, tracing the ink along his fingers. Her thumb ran over the ridges of his knuckles, following the letters tattooed there.
Her touch was light, almost reverent. She traced a line along the back of his hand, over the rosary beads at his wrist, then up his forearm, pausing at the eagle with a snake in its mouth.
Then the skull crowned with marigolds. The deeper she explored, the more she seemed to find—tarantula, scorpion, rose. She went to push his sleeve higher.
“You having fun there?”
She froze, looking up, startled.
Her face was inches from his. Her lips slightly parted, soft and tempting. He had the sudden, urgent need to run his tongue over her Cupid’s bow.
A breeze rolled off the lake, making her shiver slightly. Whatever trance she’d been under seemed to break. She looked embarrassed, dropping his arm.
He stepped forward, closing the space between them.
She pressed back against the car. His hands braced the roof, caging her in.
She looked like she’d forgotten how to breathe again. In the quiet space between them, he could almost hear the rapid beat of her heart.
Bending down, he placed his lips just shy of hers. “Nunca tienes que tener miedo de mí.”
A tiny furrow appeared between her brows.
He repeated himself in English. “You never have to be afraid of me.”
Her eyes searched his, frantic back and forth. Whatever she was looking for, she must’ve found it.
Because she surged forward and kissed him.
It took him by surprise. But only for a second.
Her lips were soft, tentative. Unlike in his fantasies, they were chaste. But he tilted his jaw, deepening it, and she melted. Her mouth parted for him. His tongue slid in, tasting her. Warm, sweet, a little salty.
He slipped a hand behind her neck, thumb pressing lightly over her pulse. She whimpered.
A slow burn ignited in his stomach. He fought the urge to drop his hands to her waist, knowing exactly how much faster things would escalate.
But things were already going there.
She was fully open for him, pressing into him, responding like she wanted—
And then, suddenly, she tore away.
They were both breathing hard. She ducked her head, avoiding his gaze.
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face. He swung away from her, staring out at the lake. Trying to get himself under control. Trying not to think about the way her mouth had felt against his.
“I’ll take you home.”
She didn’t answer. When he turned back, she had her hands pressed to her cheeks.
And to his horror, she was crying.
His stomach dropped. “Jesus, Julia…”
She wiped her eyes quickly. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” She nodded, like she was convincing herself more than him. Then she turned and fumbled for the door handle.
He exhaled, raking a hand through his hair.
He’d known he was going to fuck this up.
But just once, it would’ve been nice to have been wrong.
* * *
“I’d take you right up to your door, but I don’t wanna freak your parents out.”
Julia had been staring out the passenger window, seeing nothing. She took a moment to register where they were. Idling in the lane opposite her drive.
She looked across at Daniel. His profile was cut out of the lights of her house beyond. It was a perfectly fluid line. Smooth forehead. Straight nose. Crisp jaw.
“They’re not home,” she said. Then she realized what she should have said. “And you wouldn’t freak them out.”
In her head though, she was thinking, he has face tattoos. They would definitely freak out.
He raised an eyebrow and gave her a smile that implied he’d heard her thoughts and not her words.
“I’m sorry,” she said. But she wasn’t sure if she was apologizing for intolerant parents, or for her own freak out on the beach. She wanted to blame it on the weed, and maybe that had something to do with. But it wasn’t the main reason.
The kiss had been incredible. Lips and tongues and burning heat. He’d known what he was doing, whereas she’d felt like a total amateur. And right in the middle of it, Floyd had appeared, like a jump scare in a horror movie.
She shuddered. Even the mere memory of that night in the trailer could kick-start a panic attack.
Daniel sighed. It was almost imperceptible, just a slight rise and fall of his chest. He reached over and took her hand in his. “Julia. None of this is your fault.”
She looked down, studying his hand on top of hers. He wore a silver ring with a cross on it on his pinkie, and a chunky platinum watch on his wrist. Veins snaked under his skin from the back of his hand all the way up his forearm.
She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, tightly enough to feel his bones and muscles and the tic of his pulse under his skin. It made her wonder what the rest of him felt like.
She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I should go get your hoodie.”
“I don’t want it back.”
“Why not?”
He looked up and met her eyes, steady and unblinking. “Because I like knowing you still have it.”
The air caught in her chest. Something flipped in her stomach, like a trapdoor opening. She let go of his wrist as if it burned and turned abruptly toward the door, fingers fumbling for the handle.
She had to get out. Now. Everything was moving too fast, her thoughts tangling with the heat in her skin.
She ducked out of the car and slammed the door behind her. Head down, arms clutched across her chest, she crossed the lawn in quick, uneven strides.
Behind her, the ’Cuda rumbled to life. She heard it pull away from the curb, the engine’s low growl cutting through the still night air before it finally faded into silence.
Or maybe that echo wasn’t the car at all. Maybe it was just the roar in her head.