Chapter 5
Adriana
Reggaeton blasts through the speakers outside the bodega, the bass rattling the kitchen window as the showdown between Ruben and Yael drags on. Memories of our heated exchange has me spiraling. And now, every time the song switches, I swear Yael’s doing it on purpose.
It’s ridiculous to think that after all this time he would still think of me, let alone have feelings for me.
However, the thought lingers and it has me scrubbing the dishes harder, like I can scrape the feeling from my skin.
I hate that I can still read him like that.
Hate that part of me is curious to know.
Using the back of my hand, I wipe away the sweat dripping from my temples.
It’s so fucking hot. My skin prickles from the heat, the metal squeaking from the fan grates on my nerves, and my mind is consumed with the events from this morning, especially the bomb Abuelo dropped on me. Working with Yael.
I couldn’t.
Fuck, I couldn’t even stay downstairs pretending to work because my heart was too busy trying to escape my body.
How could I pretend my soul wasn’t pacing like a caged animal.
A scoff escapes me. From the kitchen window, I watch the block move through the heat like it's a living organism.
People in shorts and tank tops, beers sweating in their hands.
Kids sprinting around with water guns, shrieking as they soak each other.
The same group of girls double dutch right in front of the salon, which is where you will find most of the girls from the block.
The sight of the salon packed with clients makes me smile.
It's nice to see that some things never change.
Every girl is getting ready for their blow out, rolos clipped tight as they wait for their turn.
For a second, I contemplate getting my hair straightened and imagine myself in one of those chairs, letting someone else take care of me for once.
Then Estrella comes into view.
And just like that, the fantasy dies.
Immediately making me reconsider, reminding me of why I stopped going to her mother’s salon.
She walks from deep inside the salon, hips swaying with confidence before stopping in front of the large window.
Her gaze slides across the street, and of course, I follow it, feeling stupid the moment it lands on him.
Yael. The boy that caused our friendship to blow up in flames.
There he stood, with no shirt, his white tee slung over his shoulder, the ink on his arms on full display, shorts hanging low enough to show that damn happy trail that used to make me lose my mind.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to look away and focus on finishing the dishes, like they’re suddenly urgent.
I need to keep my head in the game. I need to win tonight.
I can’t lose to him—not with the way he said that wager, not with that edge in his voice.
I’m not opening that can of worms. Not even if Abuelo wants this.
Not even if part of me still aches in ways I don’t want to name, or even acknowledge.
I’m elbow–deep in suds when I hear a soft shuffle behind me.
“Adri…?” My mother’s voice freezes me in place. The little girl inside me who longed for a mother screams to be felt. Screams at me to turn around and hug my mother.
It’s been years since I’ve heard her say my name without slurring it, years since I’ve seen her.
I turn slowly, taking in my mother. She’s thinner than I remember.
Eyes hollow and glazed like she’s still high or always on the verge of crying.
Cheekbones sharp, her brown hair pulled back like she tried to make herself presentable but didn’t quite get there.
She’s wearing one of Neno's old T-shirts, which swallows her whole. There’s a strange ache in my chest that twists deeper. The shock finally allows words to form.
“Hi, Ma.” My voice comes out small and I hate that. She looks around the kitchen, afraid to look me in the eyes. The face of the little girl she abandoned amidst her own grief.
My mother gives me a small smile that doesn't reach her eyes. “Ruben said you would be here.” She swallows hard before stepping forward. “You’re really here.”
“I am.”
She nods, stepping back, noticing the tension in the air. “I didn’t think you’d come back.”
“I didn’t think you’d want me to.”
Her eyes flicker with guilt, grief, and regret. A small quiver in her lips makes my heart clench. “I always wanted you. I just… Wasn’t good at showing it.”
That’s one way to describe disappearing into grief and addiction after Neno died.
Of course, I don’t say that. There’s no need to, life has been cruel enough to my mother.
I can show her a little mercy with my silence.
She finally musters enough courage to step forward, wringing her hands. “I heard your abuelo… wants… you.”
My stomach tightens. “Yeah.”
“You don’t have to do it,” she whispers. “You don’t owe this block anything. You don’t owe him anything.” The way she says him tells me she still resents Yael.
“I’m not doing anything I don’t want to,” I reply flatly, trying to change the subject.
She gives me a sad, knowing smile. Her hand lifts to caress my cheek. “You always were a terrible liar.”
I look away, blinking fast at the pressure building behind my eyes. The kitchen feels too small, too warm, and too full of everything we never said. She reaches out, hesitates, then lets her hand fall. “I’m trying, mija. I know it’s late. I know I messed up. But I’m trying.”
“I know,” I whisper, and I do.
But knowing doesn’t erase the years I’ve spent wishing she could see me.
Doesn’t erase the pain of dealing with my grief and having no one to turn to.
I was alone while she escaped into her mind.
She lets out a sigh before backing toward the doorway that leads to Abuelo’s room. “Just… be careful tonight.”
I give her a tight smile. “I will.”
And with that, she leaves, allowing me to breathe again.
My chest aches, not from anger, not out of resentment, but from the tiny sliver of hope that maybe this time she means it.
Even though it’s just me hoping, nothing more than a little girl's dream.
With that, I walk out of the kitchen and towards the room that used to belong to a girl I no longer remember.
Sitting at the edge of the bed, I look at the empty hall.
My eyes are fixed on the door at the end of it, the door that’s been frozen in time.
The urge to walk towards it and step inside has me digging my nails into the mattress.
I couldn’t. Fear roots me in place—afraid to see how time has moved on without my brother.
I blink away the tears. Then I hear the door from downstairs open, noise spilling from the bodega as people begin to get ready for Capicú Friday.
Quickly, I rise to my feet, closing the door shut, and start to get myself ready for tonight.
After a long nap, and even longer shower, I’m finally ready.
The night crept up on me faster than I expected.
My body buzzes with anticipation, making my extremities feel jiggly and uncoordinated.
I rake my fingers through my curls, admiring what I see in the mirror.
My waves fall around my waist, only half of them are pinned up with a butterfly clip.
My reflection stares back at me, and I can’t help but smirk.
Feeling the woman I’ve kept tucked deep inside, defrosting.
The leopard print satin scarf I tied into a halter top glides under my palms as I smooth it down.
The fabric is soft and shows just enough skin to be a little dangerous.
My jean shorts hug my curves just right, and the gold chain looped around my waist catches the light every time I shift.
For a moment, I just stand here, taking myself in.
Lenny would have hated this—what I’m wearing.
The gloss that sits on my lips, the wings that adorn my eyes.
Everything about what I enjoyed wearing, Lenny would find a reason to hate.
Yet, this is the girl I cling to. The girl the block remembers. The girl he remembers.
And tonight, she’s stepping back outside.
I suck in a deep breath before spraying myself with my shea butter and mango body spray, then I step out of the room.
My gaze moves down the hall, and I linger, waiting for the door to swing open.
For Neno to step out into the hall and bitch about my shorts being too short—like he always did.
A wave of grief washes over me, making my heart ache.
I look away, forcing my mind to push past the grief, and head down the stairs and towards the sound of bachata that plays loudly through the house.
The smell of fried beef, chicken, and pork has my stomach growling in protest and my mouth watering.
Each step makes my pulse climb higher and higher.
A loud whistle pulls me out of my head. Glancing over my shoulder, I’m met with Chinito and Alex, who all hang around the kitchen.
The rivalry never matters when it comes down to free food and booze, not around here.
We’re all family. Chinito runs a hand through his onyx strands, stepping away from the boys and moving closer to me.
“Adri, it’s nice to see you,” he says with a smile, opening his arms and wrapping them tightly around me.
I pat his back awkwardly. “It’s good to see you too.”
He steps away, eyes sweeping over me. “You look great.”
I smile. “Thank you. You too.”
An awkward silence stretches between us, the music shifts and the opening beat of “Wiki Wiki,” by Yaviah hits. The sound punches straight into my chest, settling deep in my bones. My breath stutters. That damn song. And if I thought Yael was sending messages before, this only confirms it.
Our song.
The very first song we danced to at the block party years ago.
The one that certified him as my forever dance partner.
My body was in sync with his. I close my eyes, still picturing the moment, like it happened only yesterday.
Yael’s hands possessively on my hips, breath tickling my neck as he moved behind me like he’d been waiting his whole life to dance with me.
The memory is almost impossible to push back, not when my body craved to move to the beat of it.
Enjoying the delicious tingles spreading through me from the thought alone.
Muscle memory waking up like it never died.
Suddenly, I’m seventeen again, standing in the middle of the block party, sweat on my neck, and my eyes on the lights strung across the street like stars pretending to be close.
My body grinds into Estrella, our hips moving in sync, when my eyes find Yael across the street.
Leaning against the Cruz Bodega wall, watching me dance with the girls.
That lazy and hungry look he always tried to hide is zeroed in on me.
Like a predator stalking his prey, prickling my skin.
I feel confused… I know that I like Lenny… But Yael…
He’s fire. While Lenny is ice.
I didn’t know what to do. And it only makes it harder when he looks at me like I’m the sky.
The song switches, the beat becoming more pressing.
More electric. That’s when he pushes off the wall and saunters straight towards me like a man on a mission.
Estrella stops mid movement, her eyes brightening, only for the light to die when he stops right in front of me.
“Ven aca,”* he murmurs with a playful smirk, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my shorts, pulling me closer. I should’ve said no. Pushed him away the moment I saw the glare in Estrella’s eyes. I didn’t.
My body melted to his command allowing him to tug me along, until my back is flush against him, his chest warm against my spine. His hand settles low on my hips, guiding me to the beat. The hardness between his legs is impossible not to feel as my ass grinds against it.
“Fuck,” he groans into my neck, the warmth of his breath makes my skin pebbled, his fingers digging into my hips when I fold forward.
My back arches, my body moving on instinct—on want—on him.
I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder.
And I’m met with danger. Desire. A challenge that burns into his brown eyes.
He licks his lips, using his arm to hold me lower, that way my ass is pressed against him as we move as one.
Every sway of my hips is matched with one of his own.
In his eyes, all I see is a dare—keep up.
And I do.
When the lyrics hit the line about Yaviah ruining her lipstick, Yael turns me toward him. Chest to chest. Grinding against each other until warmth spreads through me like a raging wildfire.
“Asi*,” he whispers, brushing his thumb against my lips, smearing my red lipstick, just like the song, before crashing his mouth into mine.
The world blurs around us, the music fading into nothing but a muffled beat.
All of it collapsing into the feeling of his hands, his tongue moving against mine.
I’m barely breathing when he guides me backward towards the dark alleyway between la bodega and the laundromat.
His hands cup my face, mouth still devouring mine, until he finally breaks away.
Resting his forehead against mine, the smell of detergent, summer, and fritura fills the air.
“Adri,” he whispers, his voice rough like gravel.
“Yael,” I breathe back, feeling his hand slide lower on my waist, ready to—
“Yo, Adri!” Ruben’s voice snaps me out of the memory, I blink hard.
Realizing I’m standing in front of the kitchen and not outside.
Everyone looks at me with concern. Embarrassment washes over me, heat spreading through my cheeks, and my pulse climbs higher, making the ringing in my ears grow louder. Ruben waves a hand in front of my face.
“Earth to Adri. You good?”
I force a smile, anchoring myself back to my body.
“Yeah,” I say, slapping playfully on the side of my head. “Solo pensaba,”* I lie, feeling the truth buzz beneath my skin. My head cranes to look behind me, my eyes fixed on the direction of the Cruz bodega.
“Yo, cuz, you good to play?” he taunts.
My lips stretch further, and slowly I turn to Ruben and reply, “Of course.”
That song wasn’t an accident, and Yael knows exactly what he’s doing.
I still have a game to win.
* Ven aca - Come here.
* Asi - like this
* Solo pensaba - I was just thinking.