Chapter 6 #2
Actually that was a lie. I knew what could fix it, I was just too scared to try. But instead of going down that anxiety-inducing rabbit hole, I focused on my reason for being here and pulled on Milo’s hand so I could kiss his cheek, “You’re a smug little bastard, but I’m happy for you.”
He made a “move over” gesture with his free hand, and I obliged as he directed his knowing gray eyes in my direction. “Thanks, but don’t change the subject. What’s up with you and J? I’ve been catching some serious powder-keg vibes from the two of you.”
Easton nodded in agreement as we all looked at the man in question making his way back to us. He stopped about halfway when his dad called after him. Turning around only gave me another look at that ass.
Easton made an appreciative sound, which I knew was more to make me laugh than anything else. “I got more than I can handle with the professor burning the sheets off my bed on a regular basis, but friend, I gotta tell you, at another time, I’d have happily taken a bite out of that.”
Camilo cackled as he stole a sip of wine from my glass.
I laughed, too, keeping an eye on J. “He probably would’ve let you, too. And please stop, I don’t need this kind of dangerous enabling when I’m in an all-I-can-drink type of situation, Easton Archer.”
Camilo cut his eyes at me and spoke in a low voice. “Like you’ve ever needed substances to fall on that dick or vice versa. The two of you have always been that thirsty for each other and it looks like time has not taken off the edge.”
There was no use denying what we all knew was true. “We work better as friends.”
“If you say so” came across loud and clear on Camilo’s face, but thankfully J’s return put a stop to the conversation.
Before he even had a chance to say something, Jude came over waving a finger in the direction of Juan Pablo and Camilo, then turned to do the same at Nesto, and Patrice who were sitting just a few feet away still talking to Tom. He smiled widely as he looked at the foursome.
“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the full set.”
I didn’t even have to ask—he was referring to seeing the matching tattoos the four of them had gotten while we were all in college.
Each of the guys had a beating heart tattooed over where their real ones would be.
Each one covered in flags. Juanpa’s had the Puerto Rican and the American flag on his; he’d had the last name of his Italian mother done in a heavy cursive font on the other side of his chest. I’d gone with him to get both pieces.
Back then we were inseparable and still talking about the future.
I shut down that line of thinking immediately, nothing good was going to come from me reminiscing on shit that was done with a million years ago.
Instead I looked up at the guys who were now lined up showing off their tats.
Juanpa’s chest was like chiseled marble.
Since he’d started the job with the Yankees, he’d been taking better care of himself.
His body, which had always been lean, was now hard and strong.
Checking myself again, I held up my camera, desperately trying to get out of my very unhelpful thoughts. “We should document this occasion. Before the very first one of the GA crew gets officially hitched.”
That got a laugh from the group and they started posing right there in the lanai, but Camilo, who always had to have a say, shook his head and pointed toward the water. “Let’s do it with our backs to the water, so we get the view.”
The other three all shook their heads and griped about Camilo’s bossiness, but made their way to the exact spot their friend had indicated.
We all shuffled out of the shaded refuge and stepped out into the afternoon sun. Out of nowhere, an image of me lying on a chaise with J’s head between my legs almost made me drop my camera.
“Shit.” I sounded as flustered as I felt, while trying to adjust the lens for the picture.
“Prima, you all right? This sun is killing us.” That was Nesto.
“Sorry, here we go on the count of three.” I got a few weird stares for spacing out, but I kept it moving.
I felt a twinge of resentment at their surprised looks.
Once again, I felt burdened by the expectation that I was made of steel or something.
That everyone around me could falter or fall apart, but somehow I could never have a misstep, a moment of doubt.
I looked down for a second, trying and failing to shake whatever this was off, and when I glanced up, Juan Pablo was looking right at me.
The intensity in his eyes telling me he sensed something was wrong.
I flexed my shoulders and made a show of adjusting the camera.
“Here we go.” I took a moment to look at them, the boys I’d grown up with, now men.
Handsome, successful…happy men. It was almost overwhelming to see them all standing there, so much history.
I took a couple of shots as their partners and lovers looked on, the mixture of adoration and possessive pride all over their faces.
Right as I brought the camera down, Juanpa caught my gaze and held it. There was too much there for me to process. I knew we were thinking the same thing: this was the end of an era. Our friends were all stepping into their future. Juan Pablo and I were getting left behind.
I wondered if I’d ever find someone that got me like Juanpa did. I knew it would be impossible for anyone else to understand what my family and my people meant to me, because at the end of the day…my people were his.
That I could never get with anyone else, the shorthand of so many years knowing each other as we did.
I’d thought more than once that the history we had was part of what made it so hard for us to work.
I’d always felt a little caged in by the family in my business, the meddling.
But as I stood there, feeling the love that surrounded us and would always lift us up, I wondered if embracing all this was a better approach than trying to contain it.