11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
R eese comes through as promised, and I nearly weep at the sight of my bus in the school’s parking lot this morning when Julia drops me off.
For all the grief I gave Rafe about my bus breaking down, he really did an amazing job flipping this school bus into a one-of-a-kind bookmobile. All the seats were removed and replaced with shaggy green carpet, mimicking grass. Fake flowers sprout from the base of the bookshelves that line the walls. Rope lights, thankfully battery powered, are attached to the ceiling, hidden behind the fake leaves to continue the illusion of my enchanted forest library.
When the first bell rings, I eagerly set out the books I plan on reading today and fluff up the mushroom-shaped beanbag chairs in the middle of the room before the first wave of students boards my bus.
The elementary students enter with wide eyes, running to different stations I set up for them to enjoy. Some pick up books and others grab a clipboard coloring sheet. After free time, I read them a silly book just before their teacher escorts them back to their classroom amid a chorus of moans and groans.
I’m updating my reading journal when the middle school classes climb aboard, still straddling that line of childlike wonder and acting too cool to care. I let them know about the physical and digital library they can access and walk them all through how to sign up for their own library cards.
Throughout the day, I sneak a few glances out the window in an attempt to spot Des passing by. But it seems math teachers have little need to visit the library. In fact, none of the high schoolers stop by, and I plan to pop in the homeroom classes next week and encourage them to visit the Rocosa branch for a tour and to sign up for library cards.
By the end of the school day, thirty-six application forms are sent home for parents’ approval, which is the glimmer of hope I need and proof there is a need in this community for a library.
I scarcely have time to blink before the weekend arrives. With my mornings in the bookmobile and my afternoons spent at the library with Mr. Sherman, Des, and Reese, the days blurred by.
“How long are you going to guard the door?” Julia asks, gathering her purse and a bag of craft supplies. “I need to head out.”
“I’m just waiting for Des to show up.”
She raises a brow. “You’ve been pacing for almost an hour. It’s still fifteen minutes from when you asked him—?” The roar of the motorcycle cuts her off, and she rolls her eyes. “Okay. You guys are made for each other.”
“I mean, who doesn’t appreciate a punctual date?” I gasp, realizing my slip. “Not a date, but a hangout. Yes... two friends in the same location at the same time in a non-romantic way.”
“Riiight. Whatever you want to call it. Go have fun and be prepared to spill all the details later.” Julia winks as she heads out.
I debate following her but don’t want to appear too eager. How long would it take a normal person who isn’t waiting by the door to walk outside? Three minutes? Five?
A text comes through and saves me from overthinking.
Hot Biker
No rush, but I’m outside.
Grabbing Mami’s gift now. Do you have your backpack’s backpack?
Yep. Just missing you.
Uh, I mean you not being out here yet, not that I miss you.
Not that I haven’t missed you since last night. I always look forward to seeing you again.
Lol! Des. I knew what you meant.
Please hurry before I say something else.
I’m grinning so much my cheeks ache as I walk outside to him staring at his phone, waiting for my response.
Look up.
His helmet swivels until it finds me, locking onto me like a laser beam as I approach his rumbling bike.
“Miss me, did you?” I say with a laugh.
“Well, it’s not a lie. The question is, did you miss me?”
My cheeks warm, not expecting the question to bounce back to me.
“I do like hanging out with you . . . so . . . yes.”
He flips up his visor, revealing his eyes wide in disbelief. “ Maya. First you admit to ogling me and now this? I’m shocked. It’s like you can’t get enough of me.”
“?Ay! You tricked me.” I laugh and shove playfully at his shoulder.
“Hey, now. Don’t abuse the driver.”
“Aww.” I rub his shoulder in mock sympathy. “Did I hit you too hard? Need me to kiss it and make it better?”
He sucks in a breath and responds with a deep and gravelly “yes” that surges through me.
The silliness of the moment is replaced with longing, his silver eyes almost metallic as they drop to my lips.
My mouth parts on a sigh, tingling from the rush of blood. The urge to close the gap between us has me swaying a step forward, and images of his lips on mine play on a loop in my head.
Des. I want him even though I know I shouldn’t.
But I owe it to him and to myself to not just rush across the line of friendship into something more because of the toe-curling attraction between us. I want to be sure this time. Be patient.
I don’t want what happened between me and Felipe to repeat itself.
Opening and closing my mouth, I try to think how to best word the turbulent thoughts swirling though me. But Des beats me to the punch.
“I know. It was too fast.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s okay to tell me that.”
Nodding, I glance away, still embarrassed by my reaction. I inhale some deep, cleansing breaths as I stuff the gift bag into the backpack and zip it up. The outer casing reminds me of a turtle shell, and I awkwardly shrug it over my shoulders before placing the spare helmet over my head and snapping it on.
“Ready?” he asks, his voice still deep.
I nod and make the mistake of meeting his eyes again. The warmth from my face travels through my body at his intense stare. He’s always observing—watching the world around him—yet somehow I’m interesting enough to warrant his beautiful gaze.
“Are you okay?” he whispers in concern and lifts a hand to the side of my neck, his thumb brushing under my jawline as he studies my face.
“Yes. Sometimes being around you is... a lot.”
When his eyes squeeze closed, I quickly cover his hand with mine.
“It’s a good thing, Des. I’m just processing all my feelings, good feelings.”
His eyes snap back open, brighter than before. “You are?”
I tremble when his thumb moves, tracing idle circles under my chin. A caress so innocent, so soft, that I’m not sure even he knows it’s happening. Suddenly, we’re closer, and the heat isn’t just me but the combination of the two of us.
“I thought I scared you away,” he admits.
“I’m still here.”
He smirks at that. “Good.”
“Did I scare you away?”
“Never.”
We stay like this for I’m not sure how long. Just gazing into each other’s eyes and memorizing each detail. His eyes dilate, leaving only a trim of silver visible. He doesn’t glance away, but neither do I.
Is this what it’s like to kiss with only your eyes?
When the front of his helmet bumps mine, the tension-filled bubble pops around us and we lean away. A sweet blush spreads from one of his cheeks to the other, and he quickly taps his visor shut. Static crackles through the comms before his uneven breaths pipe into my ears.
Did he . . . just try to kiss me?
“So much for me getting here early,” he mutters and clears his throat. “Hop on whenever you’re ready.”
Placing a hand on his shoulder, I climb up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. He tugs fabric over my fingers, and I peer over his shoulder to see.
“You bought me gloves?”
“Reese let me borrow her pair until the ones I ordered come in. I’m now in her debt, which is a terrible place to be.” He laughs and starts the engine.
“I appreciate it.” My arms tighten around him in a thankful hug.
The ride to Denver is nothing but sunshine and blue skies. Full of nerves for some reason, I talk about the different members of my family, preparing him for all their, uh, unique personalities. Des is quiet, listening and focusing on the road as we weave down I-70. A few kids wave from the back seat as we pass, and I wave back, which sends them into hoots of laughter.
“Don’t let go,” Des says, holding my hand to his stomach. “We are going too fast, and I don’t want you to fall off.”
Smiling, I snuggle closer until we are flush together.
We pull down my parents’ jam-packed street, not a single parking spot in sight. Not that it matters to Des. He easily whips into a small space beside my dad’s landscaping truck in front of the large two-story house.
He kills the engine, and I regretfully let go of him. I slide off, already hating the fact we aren’t touching anymore.
“What time do you want me to come get you?” He crosses his arms as he waits, his muscles straining against the leather.
I spin back to him, the helmet tucked under my arm. “What? You’re not coming in?”
“I’m the ride, remember?”
“Des, I want you to come in with me.”
“Are you sure? Because if I go in there, they might think there is something between us when you’ve told me before there isn’t.” He leans on his gas tank. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
Another question I hadn’t been expecting today. My breathing picks up along with my heart rate. I’m not ready to decide.
“Um . . .”
“Hey,” he whispers and takes my hand, drawing me into him.
This time I don’t hesitate, seeking the comfort of his embrace. It’s as natural to wrap my arms around his front as I do when we’re riding. Only this time it’s different because his strong arms are tight around me too, almost desperate, like he’s been wanting to do this for a while.
“Hey,” he repeats, a warm whisper in my ear. “You don’t have to decide anything, okay? I also don’t want your family to force you to admit to something when you’re not ready. Maya, you are 100 percent worth waiting for—every second.”
I squeeze him tighter, and his helmet knocks into my temple.
“Gah. Sorry. This is the worst time to be wearing this. Let me... just try... to take...” He fidgets with the strap as I step away. “Wait... give me a second.”
“It’s okay. I’m sure at least three of my cousins have their noses pressed against the window staring at us right now. The longer we wait out here, the more questions they’ll have.”
His shoulders slump. “Stupid strap.”
“I got you.” It takes me a second to unlatch his strap. “It’s about time I did it for you for a change.”
He lifts his helmet off his head. The longer blond curls on his head bounce with their freedom, which he immediately runs his fingers through. We head up the path where my mom’s creepy gnome army greets us before we step up onto the porch.
“Last chance to run,” I say.
“Tempting, but I’m ready. Just, uh, don’t leave me alone too long.”
I smile up at him. “I won’t.”
As I open the door, Latin music and multiple voices slam into us. “Bienvenidos a casa de Santos.”
“Welcome to the Santos’s house. How close am I? My high school Spanish is rusty.”
I clap my hands. “Well done.”
“I have a funny feeling I’m going to need to practice more.”
“Luckily you’re a smarty-pants.” I unzip my jacket and shrug it off, setting both our gear on the entryway bench. “It should come naturally to you.”
“With numbers, yes. But I might need a brown-eyed tutor on the side for Spanish.”
“I think I know someone who fits the bill.”
“Me too.” He tugs on one of my curls and lets go so it coils back into itself.
“Stop stalling,” I say and point a finger into his chest. “You are going to get me into trouble if we don’t go greet everyone.”
“What if I like trouble?”
My skin warms at his stare. “Oh, and I hope you came hungry.”
He lifts his brow, confused, but doesn’t have time to ask as the rumblings of a stampede echo toward us.
My three little cousins beeline to the door, nearly trampling us to get outside to play. They scream a quick “hola” before bolting out the door.
“That’s Javier, Louisa, and Olive. The girls are?—?”
“—?your brother Andre’s. And Javier is your cousin Ruth’s.”
I spin to face him. “You were listening on the way here.”
“Of course I was. Next time, I think I prefer flash cards though.”
I’m grinning at the phrase “next time” when Mami spots me from down the hall. She raises her hands, her bracelets rattling around her wrists. “?Mija!”
Then like a tidal wave, all my family floods into the room, speaking a mix of Spanish and English that I bet makes poor Des’s head spin. I try my best to translate, and suddenly everyone takes in the tall man I brought with me.
“Who is this?” Mami asks in Spanish, eyeing Des as another tía kisses his cheeks in introduction.
“This is Desmond. He’s one of my new friends from Rocosa.”
“What about Felipe?”
Des turns his head toward us, listening despite it still being in another language.
“Mami, this is not the time for this. We have barely stepped through the door before you mention his name. Why don’t you give my new friend a chance?”
Smiling at Des, I switch back to English and continue to introduce him to my surrounding family, who have all congregated at the entryway.
“Hola,” Des says, his voice cracking a bit from nerves.
“El es muy guapo,” my prima Nia says, winking at me.
“Thank you,” Des replies. “Luckily, calling someone handsome is one of the phrases I do remember.”
The room chuckles, and I beam a smile up at him. Even with his nerves, he’s doing great.
“All right, now everyone give the poor man some space,” Mami says, waving her hand around so the crowd begins to disperse back to the other room. “He doesn’t need all of you talking to him at once. I’m the birthday girl, so I get dibs first.”
Mami takes Des’s arm and guides him into the kitchen, rambling on about the different dishes she and her sisters have prepared. He glances over his shoulder at me just before she tugs him around the corner.
“Excuse me,” I say and don’t even think as I leave Nia mid-conversation to chase after him.
Delicious scents from my youth hit me as soon as I walk in the kitchen, and my stomach gurgles in response. At least seven women hover in the kitchen, preparing to set out the main courses. What’s left of the appetizers line the counter with suspicious Papi-sized chunks already eaten from each dish. Not that I’m worried about food running out. The Santos family makes enough to feed the whole neighborhood.
“You missed the family prayer. I couldn’t hold them off any longer.” Mami clucks her tongue.
“It was my fault,” Des says before I can respond. “I can pray with Maya before we eat, if that’s okay.”
She nods her approval, and once more for me, letting me know Des earned a point of favor.
Papi’s boisterous laugh ripples in from the adjoining living room. He’s chatting with Marco, Rafe, and a few friends still holding empty plates of food. Rafe at least has the decency to duck behind my papi, avoiding eye contact with me. Chicken.
“Maya, there’s my girl. She finally made it.”
Some of my parents’ church friends jump up when I walk over, rushing to kiss my cheeks in greeting. There are faces I don’t recognize, but that’s normal in this house. My parents are known for their get-togethers and inviting everyone they bump into.
As the night continues on, the noise level ramps up. Stories are shared over laughter, and the living room morphs into a bar as the music grows louder and family members start dancing in the big open space around the TV. As promised, I keep close to Des and translate for some of my older relatives. But really, I’m thankful for an excuse to stay at his side.
“Do you want a drink?” Papi shouts to Des over the thumping bass.
“I have one.” He lifts up his coke and winces a bit from the music. “I’m good.”
“I mean the good stuff from the bar. You want something?”
“Actually, I don’t drink alcohol,” Des says with smooth confidence.
Papi stutters a phrase in Spanish, his mustache wiggling.
“ Papi ,” I scold, lucky that Des couldn’t translate half of what he said.
“I’ve just never heard of such a crazy thing. Can you not hold down your liquor or something?”
“No, my mother was an alcoholic and died when I was a kid. I made a personal choice not to drink after that day.”
Papi swallows hard and puts one of his meaty hands on Des’s shoulder. “How devastating. No kid should ever have to go through that. It’s a tough and brave choice you made—not many are strong enough to follow through. Tienes mi respeto, eh, I mean you have my respect.”
He squeezes Des’s shoulder. My heart warms watching the two of them, but only for a second before Papi changes the subject as he does when things get too emotional.
“Do you watch any sports?”
“I’m a Denver Dragons fan.”
“Ahh, that’s what I like to hear. We love going to the hockey games. Well, we used to.” He gives me a pointed stare.
“You have to let Felipe go. If I have to buy you season passes to the Denver Dragons, I will.”
“Who’s getting season passes, mi prima favorita?” Rafe says, throwing a friendly arm over my shoulder that I instantly knock off.
“Sweet talking will get you nowhere. I’m still mad at you about the bookmobile breaking down. I was nearly run over— more than once .”
“Think of it as something you can talk about on your social media page.” He laughs at his joke, completely unaware that I’m one second away from strangling him.
“You’re Rafe?” Des asks, moving closer to him and holding out a hand.
Rafe glances at the offered hand suspiciously before taking it, and they shake.
“Thank you so much. If it wasn’t for you, I would have never met Maya.”
“Oooh, so maybe you shouldn’t be so angry with me. It sounds like you should be thanking me and buying me season tickets as well.”
Papi and Rafe lean their heads back and laugh, almost sounding like twins.
“You know, my friend Cai knows some of the team. He might be able to get you a free game or two.”
Their laughter immediately stops.
“Seriously?” Rafe asks.
Des shrugs. “I can’t promise anything, but it doesn’t hurt to ask.”
The two of them throw their arms around his shoulder, letting out a long cry of excitement as they shake him. Des winces again.
“This boy, mija, he’s a keeper.” Papi slaps him proudly on his back.
“He’s pretty great,” I say. “Try not to hurt him.”
“Pain lets you know you’re alive. Right, Rafe?”
Rafe lifts up his drink, salutes, then guzzles it down in agreement.
While this is all normal for me, I shoot Des a sympathetic look. The poor man didn’t realize what he was signing up for when he walked through the door. I don’t have an opportunity to save him as my Mamá wrangles me back to the kitchen to help with the dessert and apparently grill me about my ex-boyfriend.
“Mami,” I snap after another inappropriate question. “I don’t want to talk about Felipe.”
“I’m just asking if you’ve tried calling him.”
“Why would I do that? He cheated on me.” I shake my head at her, confused why there is even a discussion about this at all.
She waves a spatula at me. “Men are fickle. They don’t know what they want until it’s gone.”
“I know what I don’t want, and it’s an unfaithful husband. Can we just drop this? I’m here with Des.”
“Your friend, as you’ve told me a hundred times.”
I roll my eyes at her exaggeration as she continues.
“Plus I ran into Felipe yesterday and?—?”
My stomach lurches, and I grip the counter. “What did you do?”
“—?I might have mentioned how you miss him and want him back.”
“Mami, why, why? I don’t want him back. For the first time since last Christmas, I’m happy. Things are falling into place at work and I’m meeting new people, trying new things. I don’t want to go back in the past.”
“Mija. Listen to me.” She goes to grab my hands, but I pull away. “Felipe is a once-in-a-lifetime catch. His career is only going upward. He’s meant for stardom and success. You will be taken care of and provided for.”
“I want nothing from him. Nothing. ” I untie Abuela’s apron from around my neck and toss it on the table, ready to head home.
“Is this really a smart decision? To give up on what you two had for some teacher?”
My spine straightens and I turn back to her slowly. “Desmond is worth a million Felipes. There is no comparison.”
She holds up her hands in defeat. “?Ay! You are so stubborn. One day you’ll understand that sometimes God puts certain people in your life for a reason. I don’t want you to regret this later, mija.”
“I know God does. How do you think I met Des?”
A booming howl of laughter erupts in the living room, echoing so loudly in the kitchen that the decorative plates on the wall rattle.
Mami shakes her head, her eyes full of disappointment. “You sure? He just ran out the back door.”