6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
I ’ve never been so embarrassed in my entire life than I am whenever I’m around Des. What seemed like a great idea at midnight last night has now turned me into a cookie-bringing weirdo. His confused expression said it all. I couldn’t run out of his classroom fast enough. I’d hide in the Rocosa library if it wasn’t closed on Mondays.
“What were you thinking, Maya?” I whisper under my breath.
But of course, I’m not lucky enough to escape. Des tracked me down to drag out this awkward moment.
Forcing a smile, I secretly wish the floor could swallow me whole.
“Did you need something else?” I ask.
“Yes . . . I mean no.”
I give him a second to elaborate, but he continues to stare at me with those silver eyes. Unlike yesterday, it feels like I have to pry words out of him.
“Everything’s all right?” I ask. My eyes flick over his shoulder to the few students who peer out of his classroom at us just before they dart back inside.
“It’s nothing urgent. I... just forgot to thank you for the cookies. Nobody has baked me anything in years. It left me a little speechless is all.”
My heart softens a little. “You’re so welcome. I wish I could say that made us even, but I don’t think there are enough cookies I could bake to show my gratitude.”
“I don’t want you to feel like you’re indebted to me,” he states quickly.
“In the Santos family, food is more than something you eat. It’s a gesture of appreciation and kindness. Think of it as our love language.”
“My granny was like that.”
“Oh, then you understand. I apologize that these aren’t my mami’s tamales, but these are one of the few things I can make with my eyes closed.”
“I’m sure they’re delicious. Half the class was drooling over them. I probably shouldn’t leave them unguarded.”
I chuckle, and some of the tension and embarrassment drains from my body. Despite all my blunders when I’m around him, Des has this comforting way about him that puts me at ease.
Now I’m the one at a loss for words.
“What happened to you yesterday?” he blurts, like the thought escaped against his will.
“Me?” I laugh, shaking my head at the change of subject. “You’re the one who disappeared.”
“I had to help a friend real fast. It took ten minutes max. I didn’t think you’d just leave without saying goodbye.” He tucks his hands in his khakis and rocks back and forth on his heels.
“Des, I thought you left. Honest. I even looked for you before I left with Julia.”
“You did?” He sighs. “I was worried and didn’t have a way to check to see if you were safe.”
“Ask her for her number.” A whispered suggestion drifts from his classroom.
He whips his head behind him and back to me, startled. “Uh... sorry about that.”
Laughing, I pull out my phone in a bold move. “What’s your number? I’ll text you so there isn’t any confusion next time.”
As soon as I type it in, I send him a quick text saying it’s me.
“Done.”
“Perfect.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “I should probably head back. Work and all that. Teens get into trouble if you leave them alone too long.”
“Oh, I believe it. I have a few cousins that fit that description.”
“Yeah? You can tell me about them tonight.”
I raise a brow. “Tonight?”
His whole body stiffens. “Reese didn’t tell you she invited me... did she?”
“Um, no,” I say just as his face takes on an ashen color like he’s about to faint. “But I’m fine with you joining us. I’m probably more comfortable around you than her anyway.”
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t have just invited myself without you knowing.”
“Des.” I reach out and place a hand on his arm, his muscles bunching beneath my fingers. “I want—nay—I demand you join us.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners as a charming smile spreads across his face. “How do I say no to that?”
What was meant to be playful morphs into something else. Butterflies spring to life inside me in distracting flutters. The air is electric, the hairs lifting on my arms. Before I realize it, I’m leaning closer to him, lost in his eyes.
“You can’t,” I say, my voice not sounding like my own.
It’s only a split second, but his eyes dip to my lips.
“Then I won’t,” he says, his words like a caress.
A cheer erupts from his classroom, and we jump apart, both blinking at each other in a daze.
Goodness, Maya, you’re at school.
Clearing his throat, he walks backward down the hall, unable to break eye contact. “See you tonight.”
When my mouth doesn’t function, I settle on a wave.
The rest of the day is a slog of Monday meetings. First an hour-long conference with the assistant principal, Adam Monroe, who thinks he hung the moon. Then two virtual meetings, one with the Golden library staff and one I’d been dreading, to update Ms. Anderson on the bookmobile’s out-of-commission state. Then a ride with a friendly local who helps me transport my suitcase to Julia’s.
But even through all the mundane, my thoughts keep returning to Des.
I shouldn’t be this excited about seeing him again. I absolutely didn’t need to change my outfit three times or reapply my makeup. The fact that I’m wearing my lucky Pride and Prejudice book earrings means nothing. It’s just a friendly hangout with Des and his sister.
My eyes dart to the door when it opens, and I slink in my chair when a stranger walks through.
This is not a date , I remind myself. So stop acting like it is.
As if on cue, I hear Felipe’s voice echo through the bar’s speaker, souring my good mood. Did other people have this much trouble when they broke up with a boyfriend? It seems like he is everywhere I go, filtered in through a loudspeaker, screaming, “You weren’t good enough for me.”
The urge to socialize evaporates the longer he talks. Apparently, today is some radiothon event where he’s going to be popping on all evening to raise donations for a local charity. How freaking wonderful. Even on a work trip he haunts me.
Irritation churns in me. A mixture of frustration and disappointment that he still has this power over me. Why can’t I delete him from my life as easily as I did his number from my phone?
I should probably just bail on this whole thing. Make up an excuse and escape before anyone arrives.
Debating, I tear up my straw wrapper and search for the nearest exit through the crowd that will draw the least attention. For a Monday night, this place is packed with patrons.
“Hey.”
White wrapper bits go flying as Des slides into the open seat next to me. He’s barely holding back his grin as he dusts the pieces from his leather biker jacket.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone so happy to see me before that they threw confetti,” he jokes.
This day won’t stop torturing me.
“I wasn’t expecting a sneak attack from behind.”
He tilts his head. “Sneak attack? I believe I said ‘hey’ first to get your attention. What are you looking at over there?”
“The exit. I was actually thinking of leaving.”
Disappointment washes over his features, his wide shoulders drooping. “Why? You just got here.”
“It’s a silly reason...” I fidget, turning away from him as I internally debate how much backstory I can share without sounding like a loon.
He drums his fingers thoughtfully on the table. “You can be honest. Did you change your mind? I can leave if you’re feeling uncomfortable.”
“What?” I spin to him, sickened that he would think that. Placing a hand on his arm, I yank him back into his seat. His silver eyes hold mine, a hint of sadness glinting in them that has me fighting my instincts to gather him up in a comforting hug. “You are the only reason I’m still sitting here and haven’t dashed out the door.”
“Really?”
The surprise in his tone solidifies my decision to stay. “Of course.”
Felipe’s nasally laughter echoes overtop the bar conversations, and I glance at the ceiling wishing he would just leave me alone.
“What is it? I don’t care if it’s silly,” Des asks, leaning in.
I scrunch my nose, knowing what I’m about to say might make me sound crazy. “It’s the radio station. My ex-boyfriend is one of the co-hosts of the morning show. Unfortunately for me, he’ll be on the air all evening with the charity event.”
“You dated Felipe from KOSI 101.1?” He glances at the ceiling now, listening to his charismatic banter before the next song starts. “He’s obviously an idiot.”
A warm blush settles over me, and we lock eyes. There’s something about his stare. Like he’s one of those superheroes that can see through my layers, exposing the real me hidden underneath. In his gaze, I feel beautiful and nothing like the forgotten leftovers Felipe made me believe I was.
“Now you have to tell me something embarrassing about yourself. We need to be even.” I smile and rest my chin on my fist to wait.
“Oh, is that how this works?”
I nod.
“Well, uh, I’m sure Reese could tell you a dozen.”
“I don’t want to hear it from her. I admitted mine, now it’s your turn. Tit for tat.”
He leans back as he thinks, and the air between us chills with the added space. We must have been closer than I thought.
“Before I had my motorcycle, I rode a dirt bike around town. It was pretty loud and everyone complained. Everyone in our biker group?—?”
“Hold up. You’re in a biker gang?”
He closes his eyes for a few seconds, gathering his patience. “I specifically said group . It’s a chill meetup where we get together and just ride. We are scattered between here and Denver, but we try to fit in at least one ride a week. But to me, it’s more than just a group. Chris, Holt, Cai, Thor, and Chantelle...” He stops for a minute, and just before I think that might be it, he finishes with, “They are more than my friends—they’re like family. What about you? Any hobbies or interests?”
“I don’t really do anything outside of work and books. There’s a social media thing I do, book related of course, but I don’t need to leave my apartment.”
“Well, if you loved riding with me the other day, you’d probably enjoy cruising with us. You can be my backpack?—?”
“Your what ?” I ask, snorting with laughter.
“Backpack.” Des tries to be serious and fails. “I promise, that’s the term for it. Since you’re hanging on my back. You know...” He waves his hands around, mimicking the straps of a backpack.
The fact that he is trying so hard to explain only fuels my laughter. Tears well in my eyes, and I lean toward him and brace a hand on his arm so I don’t fall out of my chair.
“Oh my goodness, I’ve never heard that term before. I love it.”
“It’s a real thing.”
“I’d love to be your backpack.”
“Nah. You laughed at me. You lost your chance.” He crosses his arms in a mock pout.
“I thought you were messing with me. Remember, I know nothing about bikes—motorcycles.”
“What’s so funny?” Reese slides into the empty seat across from us, black smudges under her chin. “What did I miss?”
“Des asked me to be his backpack,” I say, waiting for her to join in the laughter.
Her eyes widen, the silver hue the same as her brother’s. “Oooh, really? That’s a compliment. He rarely lets me ride with him unless I force him.”
A pink tinge spreads across Des’s cheeks. “It’s not a big deal.”
She leans in and whispers behind her hand to me. “It is. That’s like girlfriend status.”
“Reese,” Des scolds.
A moment of silent conversation passes between them, probably developed by a lifetime of sibling arguments.
Leaning back in her chair, she throws her hands up in surrender. “I’m just explaining how monumental it is to be ‘chosen’ as a backpack.”
“Well, stop.”
“Fiiine... joy killer. Are you guys drinking water all night? You look ready for a refill, Maya. I’m going to get something fruity.”
Des tenses, his eyes meeting hers in silent accusation.
“Don’t look at me like that. Nonalcoholic. Give me a break, bro,” Reese snaps. The chair screeches as she pushes back from the table and storms off to the bar.
Awkward silence fills the space between Des and me, and I unconsciously pick at the straw wrappers still left on the table.
He clears his throat. “I guess I should explain her outburst.”
“It’s fine. I completely understand family arguments. If there is something you two need to discuss, I don’t want to get in the middle. I can give you both some space.”
“Maya, no.” His hand covers mine, warm and comforting, just as it had been when we were on his bike. He holds my gaze, summoning those butterflies again. “That’s not what I want at all. Our family drama isn’t exactly a secret. Reese is six months sober, probably the longest that she’s ever been since our granny passed away four years ago.”
I flip my hand over, returning the comforting hold. “I’m so sorry, Des... I know that it’s hard to lose those closest to you. It doesn’t matter how many years pass, sometimes it can still feel like yesterday.” I give his hand a squeeze.
“She was more of a mother than a grandmother to me. She raised me and Reese while my mom was drunk and out doing who-knows-what. Granny was the one I could depend on. The one who baked all my birthday cakes, bandaged my skinned knees, and bought me my dirt bike. She didn’t talk a lot because she didn’t need to. Her actions spoke enough.”
“You know, it sounds like you two have a lot in common.”
His thumb caresses my skin. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me.”
“I brought drinks,” Reese says cheerfully behind us, her attention so focused on not spilling the full glasses that she doesn’t see Des and me jerk our hands away from each other. “Two boring waters and a pink paradise for me. Look what Tristen added.” Glittery flakes swirl in the bubblegum-colored liquid.
“That can’t be good for your digestive system,” Des says, frowning.
“Then don’t drink it, Mr. Stick-in-the-Mud. Let me enjoy the little things, will you?”
His cheeks turn the color of Reese’s drink. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” She spins in her chair to me. “I’m sure my big brother here has already informed you of what a disaster I am and how he always has to come clean up my messes. If it wasn’t for him telling me to not drink every second of the day, I’d probably be drunk on the floor in my own vomit.”
Des recoils from her verbal blows.
“Actually... he was just saying how proud he was of you for getting your six-month chip.”
Reese’s jaw clenches like she’s itching for an argument. “Of course he did. Even when I’m sober, I’m still a screwup. Why do you have to be so perfect all the time?” She snatches her drink and shoots to her feet, storming away. Her shoulder bumps into a tall man with an eye patch. She says something before joining a group of ladies by the pool table.
The man rubs the back of his neck as he approaches our table, his tool belt rattling with each step he takes. He glances at Des, then does a double take when he sees me sitting next to him.
“Uh, is Reese all right?” the man asks, frowning. “She seems to be in a mood.”
“Irritated at me again, but that’s nothing new.”
“Should she be . . . here?”
Des shrugs. “She says she’s fine. I’m trying to be supportive. Don’t tell her, but Tristen is keeping a sharp eye on her tonight. He won’t let her drink again. I was hoping it would save me from being the bad guy, but it appears I’ve already offended her.”
The man nods, then clears his throat, his eyes flicking to me.
“Oh, this is Maya. She’s the one they sent to update the library. Maya, this is Holt. He’s one of the guys I ride with and the universal handyman for Rocosa.”
“Another gang member?” I ask, trying my best to hold a serious expression.
“Still not a gang,” Des says and turns his attention to Holt. “Sit if you want. Not sure Reese will be coming back.”
“No, I don’t want to interrupt. I wanted to make sure your new Smart Board is working properly.”
“Oh.” Des waits a beat, mixing the ice in his drink as he thinks. “It is... but you know I can’t accept it. It’s too expensive.”
“You know Chris. He doesn’t do little gestures. But out of everyone, you deserve it. Being a teacher isn’t easy, and most of the time you don’t get the resources you need. Especially with the historical society vetoing any potential update we need. Chris said if you needed anything else, just send him a text and he’ll make it happen.”
I quickly take a sip of my drink so my nosy self doesn’t start bombarding them with questions.
“I’m fine,” Des responds, his cheerful demeanor evaporating. “I don’t need handouts.”
“Not a handout—a donation for the students.”
Des’s jaw tightens. “If I think of anything else, I’ll let him know.”
“Hey now, don’t shoot the messenger. Also, don’t forget to check the chat. We are planning on riding after you get off work tomorrow if you can make it.”
“You know I’m always down for a ride.” Des turns to me and asks, “If you want to join us, you can.”
“Oh, I’m at the library all day tomorrow. But maybe next time? It was really fun.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
The intensity of his stare stirs up those dormant butterflies again, and I bite my lip to keep the cheesy grin off my face. His eyes flick down at the movement and take on a metallic color.
Holt’s good eye bounces between us. “Okay. I have a leaky pipe to fix. I’ll see you tomorrow. It was nice meeting you, Maya.”
“Same.”
“Later, man,” Des says, his wave more of an afterthought.
As soon as we’re alone again, Felipe’s voice cuts in at the end of the song, and Des shoots me a sympathetic glance. He offers his hand.
“Wanna get out of here?”
Immediately I put my hand in his, and my skin sizzles at his fingers close around mine. “Absolutely.”