12. Beatriz #2
Alejandro keeps going, calm and patient. “Carlos and Diego,” Alejandro says, nodding toward two guys who immediately flash identical grins. “Brothers from other mothers. They’ve been playing together since kindergarten and think they’re charming.”
“We are charming,” Carlos says.
Alejandro finally gestures toward the guy lounging at the end of the booth. “That’s Gael. One of my closest friends. Drives too fast, drinks too slow, and says less than most but means more than all.”
Gael lifts his chin. “Sup.”
Then Alejandro steps around me and points to the woman I saw a minute ago—long dark hair, radiant smile, warm eyes. “And this,” he says, “is Camila. Gael’s girlfriend. Of three years.”
Her eyes find mine, holding steady.
“She’s the one who answered my phone earlier. I left it on top of the vending machine.”
Camila’s brows lift, and her lips part. I see it hit her—the realization. Her expression shifts instantly.
“Oh,” she says, standing quickly. “Oh no. That was you on the phone?”
I manage a nod.
She steps forward, hands out like she’s approaching a wounded animal. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know whose phone it was. I just saw it sitting there and figured someone might be calling to claim it. I said ‘hola’—and then it disconnected.”
She takes my hand, warm and careful. “I didn’t know it was you. I swear, I’d never—he’s like my brother. That’s it.”
I don’t speak. My throat’s too tight. My chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself. I don’t know if I’m more relieved or ashamed.
Alejandro steps in again, voice gentle. “I didn’t realize I had left my phone until after she'd already answered. When I saw the screen and noticed your name, I called right back.”
Camila squeezes my hand. “I would’ve said something if I’d known it was important—I feel horrible.”
“I…” My voice cracks. “I thought you were…”
“Ay, Dios,” Camilia quickly shakes her head. “No. Never.”
I swallow the guilt and shame that rise in my throat. I’d jumped to conclusions. I’d let my own insecurities swallow me whole.
Camila brushes a piece of hair behind my ear. “You’re not wrong for feeling what you felt. But I promise, there’s nothing to worry about. He talks about you like you’re some kind of miracle.”
Mateo whistles low. “She really thought you cheated? Damn, bro. You are in deep.”
Alejandro glares at him. “Not helping.”
“I am!” Mateo says, grinning. “Because if you had cheated, we’d all be beating your ass right now.”
Carlos nods. “Dead serious. We like her.”
Diego folds his arms and points a finger at Alejandro. “One wrong move, and she gets all our numbers.”
“Immediately,” Niko adds. “We’d rat you out in a heartbeat.”
“You guys don’t even know me,” I murmur, overwhelmed.
Carlos leans in. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
“You care enough to spiral,” Diego says with a grin. “That’s a good sign.”
Gael raises his glass slightly. “You broke him, you know. He’s gone for you.”
I feel it then—the embarrassment, thick and sticky. Crawling up my throat, into my cheeks, behind my eyes. I want to disappear. To melt through the floor and vanish between the tile cracks.
Alejandro finally looks at me, and there’s no smugness there. Just something soft. Something knowing.
“Bee,” he says, “it’s okay.”
“It’s not,” I murmur. “I should’ve trusted you. I—I jumped to the worst conclusion, and I didn’t even give you a chance to explain.”
His eyes twinkle. “So… you were jealous?”
I narrow mine. “Don’t.”
“Possessive?”
“Alejandro—”
He grins. “You know I like it when you get all angry and territorial, right?”
I shove him in the chest, and he laughs. His hand catches mine before I can fully pull away, thumb brushing my knuckles like he doesn’t want to let go. Like he won’t.
“Teasing helps you stop spiraling,” he murmurs low enough that only I hear. “But if you want me serious again, I will be. I meant what I said earlier. I’m not letting you go, Bee. Not unless you ask me to.”
And I don’t. God, I don’t want to.
Mateo whistles. “Damn. He is in love.”
“About damn time,” Niko mutters.
“I’m just…” I trail off. “I really thought I was about to get my heart broken. Again.”
Alejandro’s voice drops as he moves beside me. “You’re not.”
I look up at him, every emotion swirling behind my eyes.
“You believe me now?” he asks, quiet and sure.
I nod slowly.
Carlos claps once. “Alright, now that we’ve all cleared that up—who’s down for another round?”
Everyone cheers.
And I… I let myself smile, heart still raw but beating steady.
The guilt won’t let go of me. It clings like smoke to my skin, thick and sour, curling into all the places I thought I’d outgrown.
I should’ve let him talk. Should’ve just listened. I didn’t even give him that.
And now I’m sitting here in the middle of a club, surrounded by strangers who were nothing but kind, watching him laugh like I didn't just have the most embarrassing freak out.
He’s sitting less than a foot away, grinning as Mateo shouts something dumb across the table. His whole face lights up—eyes crinkling, dimple deep, head tilted back. That smile... it’s not just pretty. It’s disarming. It makes people lean in. It made me fall in love with him once.
There’s something about the way the team banters with him, the way they slap his back, toss him shit, but never cross a line. They love him. I can feel it. Not just in how they look at him—but how they look at me, like I already belong.
Alejandro glances my way mid-laugh. God, that smile . He lifts a shot glass and holds it toward me.
“Ready?” he mouths.
I nod.
We throw them back at the same time, and the tequila burns clean through the shame in my chest.
Before I can catch my breath, he stands and reaches a hand out to me.
“Dance with me.”
It’s not a question.
He doesn’t wait for me to answer, just pulls me up, hand warm and steady in mine.
We move toward the dance floor, weaving through bodies packed tight and pulsing under the pink-and-purple strobe.
Somewhere in the shift, the DJ transitions to a new track—Peppas by Farruko---a cheer rippling through the club like a wave.
Alejandro pulls me in close, one arm at my lower back, the other guiding our rhythm. I don’t fight it. I fall into him, into the sway with my chest pressed into his.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, barely audible over the beat. “For earlier. For not trusting you.”
He doesn’t respond right away, just shifts his grip, sliding his hand to my hip. “I get it,” he says finally. “You’ve been hurt. You’ve been left to put pieces together with no one giving you the truth.”
I nod, too afraid to look at him.
He tilts my chin up. “But I’m not them. You hear me? I would never cheat on you.” I inhale deeply at his words of assurance. “I’ll keep proving that to you, Bee. As many times as it takes. Just —next time, talk to me. If you think something happened, bring it to me. Let me show you it didn’t.”
“I promise,” I say, voice thick.
He smiles gently, just for me, and then presses his forehead to mine.
And when his lips meet mine, I melt.
The kiss is soft, careful at first, but then I move closer and it deepens. His tongue slides against mine, teasing, possessive. His hand splays across my lower back, holding me like I might disappear.
I don’t want to. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.
We’re still kissing when the team stumbles onto the dance floor behind us, drunk and rowdy. Someone grabs Mateo mid-spin and Carlos dips Niko in mock-slow-dance fashion.
Alejandro laughs against my mouth, and I pull back just enough to breathe.
“Come on,” he murmurs, spinning me so my back is pressed to his chest.
The bass thumps hard enough to rattle my ribs. Sweat glistens on skin. Lights flash over mouths parted in ecstasy and hips grinding without shame.
I start to move with the rhythm, letting myself feel the beat.
Alejandro’s hands land on my hips, gripping tight, and I sway with him—slow, deliberate. He leans down, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“You keep moving like that,” he whispers, voice rough, “and I’m going to have to remind you who you belong to the second we’re alone.”
My breath stutters.
He doesn’t stop. “You think I’m going to let you doubt me again after tonight? Nah, mi reina. Next time you spiral, I’ll be there. Inside you. Making you remember.”
A shiver runs down my spine. I don’t say anything—can’t. But my body answers for me, grinding back against him harder.
His grip tightens.
Mateo howls something inappropriate behind us, and I start laughing. Alejandro groans against my neck.
“This was supposed to be about building trust,” he says.
“Mm,” I hum. “We’re multitasking.”
“Yeah?” His hand slips lower, fingers skimming just under the waistband of my skirt. “Then when we get home, I expect full participation.”
I throw my head back against his shoulder, heart pounding. “That a threat or a promise?”
He laughs—dark and delicious. “Both.”
And I decide, right then, I believe him. I believe all of it.