Chapter 14
Adriana
“Dile Al Amor,” by Aventura drifts through the streets, the kind of song that makes the night feel like it’s alive.
Tonight marks the first tournament of the summer, and our block has transformed into one large get together.
Music spilling from every speaker, bass thumping through the pavement like a pulse.
I take it all in, inhaling the night. The court is alive in a way I haven’t been.
It’s packed with folding tables, floodlights, coolers packed with ice, and speakers stacked on milk crates.
The smell of fritura and smoke moves between the crowd, mixing with laughter and the sharp click of dominoes. I step forward onto the basketball court, the neutral ground for those who run the streets. The only place where rivalries pause long enough for a game, where it’s nothing but vibes.
The wavy hem of my cotton dress brushes against my skin, soft but clingy in the humidity.
After almost spending an hour trying to tame my curls, I opted to pull it back into a long braid that stops right above my ass.
I can’t help but shiver from all the energy buzzing inside me—ready to explode.
People dance around me, couples pressed together as they feed off rhythm.
My feet begin to move, my waist following the beat of the song.
I close my eyes, and let the music take me.
When I open them, he’s there.
Yael.
Not missing the beat as he cuts in. “Don’t stop,” he murmurs.
I wasn’t planning on it, so I don’t.
We land on the same step, our bodies already in sync.
My hips match his beat. The song shifts, the rhythm tightening, demanding closeness.
Yael’s hand finds the small of my back, firm but careful, guiding me into the step.
His other hand catches mine, only for him to wrap it around the nape of his neck.
We move together—side to side, back, tap—our hips tracing the beat.
My heart settles into a steady rhythm, lips lifting into a carefree smile.
His palm presses lightly, steering me through the turn.
My braid swings, and his masculine scent hits me like a wave.
Taking me under and drowning me in him. He smells like cologne and Hennessy, warm and inviting.
Every moment pulls us closer until there’s barely any space between us.
The music slows, and he leans in, his breath grazing my ear.
“I’m glad to see that you didn’t forget how to dance,” he says over the music.
“Why would I forget something I love doing?” I reply with a smile, licking my lips to provide moisture, when he spins me again, then catches me.
His hand sliding back in place, like it never left.
The final chords of the song stretch out.
We stop moving, but neither of us steps away.
Yael’s eyes drop to my mouth, and mine do the same.
The memory of the other night slams into me, making me tingle in places I shouldn’t be.
The air between us hums—charged, so fragile and inevitable.
“YAEL!” Someone shouts his name from the table, breaking the spell. I blink and pull away. He exhales, a quiet laugh escaping him.
“Guess it’s my turn.”
I nod, pretending my pulse isn’t still racing. Just as he turns to leave, Ruben waves me over. “Y tú también*. Come.”
Fuck me.
I can barely breathe, let alone think. I couldn’t play under these conditions, I’m too wound up…
too high off him. And still, my feet move forward, the players already trading places.
The dominoes gleam under the floodlights, each tile waiting to decide someone’s fate.
Yael takes his seat, confidence radiating off him. I sit across, pulse still tangled.
“Ready?” he asks, smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Always.”
One of the players begins to shuffle, the loud clicking and clacking fills the space. People around us pour jungle juice, amongst other things, into white styrofoam cups. I like my darker drinks, the ones that burn on their way down, and opt for my usual. Which is Henny and Coke.
Once we all have our seven pieces, we begin. The first tile hits the table, a sharp bang. A blank-two sets the pace. People dance, eat, and shout over the music. Every slam of a domino feels like a heartbeat.
Yael plays fast, his focus given the situation is unshakable.
We all take the game seriously, but he’s on another level—calm, calculating, and fucking relentless.
Like we say in DR, gran pela que ta dando*.
I try to match him, but my hand is trash, and every time I reach into the boneyard, I know I’m losing ground.
His brown eyes flick up at me, his grin widens as he slams down his last tile.
“Capicú,” he says, voice low but triumphant.
Cheers and high pitch whistling erupt around us, alongside the sound of the metal chairs scraping against the pavement. Someone passes shots down the line, it’s tradition. I grab my cup, taking it back in one go. The burn of the Hennessy hits my throat before I can think.
From the corner of my eye, I see Yael lean back, arms crossed in front of his chest, watching me with that same maddening calm.
“You owe me,” he grumbles low enough for only me to hear.
I roll my eyes, feeling the alcohol flood my system.
Or maybe it’s his proximity that makes me weak in the knees and warm in my center.
Before I can reply, he begins to collect his earnings.
Wasting no time, and within minutes, there’s a wad of cash in his hand.
I look away when I notice him move towards me. And just when I finally get my body to take a step, it leads me right in front of him. Yael's broad shoulders cast a shadow over me, our size difference highlighted under the light, and I squirm.
“For Don Rogelio,” he says, handing me the money.
The noise around us fades. I stare at the money, blink, and then look up at him. “You didn’t have to—”
He silences me with three words. “I wanted to.”
With that, he offers me his hand. I gulp down the lump forming in my throat. My emotions choking me up.
“Come on. You look like you could use some air.”
Using my free hand, I take his, not bothered with the looks given our way.
Hand in hand, we slip away from everyone, crossing the street and climbing up the narrow steps that lead to our place.
The city stretches below, lights flickering like restless stars.
The music drifts up, faint now, and still, my body sways.
I feel something cold touch my heated flesh.
Yael hands me a small bottle of dark liquor. Even though I shouldn’t, I take it.
Three shots in.
And the alcohol begins to peel at my defenses, making me giddy and hot inside. The silence between us hums. I don’t know if I want to talk or find a better use of his mouth. His fingers brush against my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I take another shot at that.
Shot number four goes down with a burn. I grimace, the taste clinging to my throat. Bitter and hot.
“Slow down.” He laughs.
I nibble on my lips, fighting the urge to act on every impulse that wants to kiss him.
To feel him. Guilt and desire merge into something painful and too heavy to hold.
I shouldn’t want him… after all, he’s the reason why my brother is dead.
I should hate him. And all I can think about is how much I want to fuck him.
Pressure builds behind my eyes, my vision blurring from the intensity.
Yael moves closer, the heat of his body contrasting the cool night air. I don’t move. He leans in, his hand trailing down my arm until stopping over the glass bottle.
“Why?” I breathe out. Repeating the same question he asked me a couple of nights ago. “Why?”
By the look on his face, I can tell he’s confused. The issue is that I don’t allow him to talk, years of pent up resentment surfaces before I have a chance to reel it in. “Adri.” The way he whispers my name makes the first tear fall.
“It’s your fault,” I tell him, my hands closing into a fist. “You. Why are you like this now? Why couldn’t you be like this back then. If you were…”
He shakes his head, already piecing what I’m trying to say. “No, Adri, that’s not on me.” He steps forward, and I step back. “What happened to Neno was out of my control.”
My fist connects with his chest. I want to hurt him… To make him feel what I’ve been carrying deep in my heart through the years. Yael doesn’t flinch, he just stands there, breathing hard, eyes locked on mine.
“I feel it too.” His voice cracks, low and rough. “I lost everything. You think I don’t carry it too? I should have been there… you’re right—but I was where I wanted to be—with you.”
I shake my head, tears falling as I realize I’m what kept Yael away that night. His tone drops. “I just didn’t think you would be the one to abandon me. Tu te fuiste, no yo*..”
The sound of his voice breaks something inside me. I want to hate him, but the truth burns hotter than anger.
“You left me,” he repeats. “I went through hell, only to come back out and see you clinging to my cousin like you won a great prize. Imagine how I feel.”
My lip quivers, a small sniffle escaping me.
Yael’s hand moves, slow and deliberate until his fingers find mine.
He tilts his head, eyes searching my face, and I wonder if he can see it?
The love I still have for him, hidden behind layers of grief and shame.
The air hums between us, his words hang there, cutting through the buzz of the alcohol.
“While you've been playing house with Lenny, I’ve been mourning. You lost your brother and I lost my heart.” Yael’s voice trembles, even though his gaze doesn’t waver.
He steps closer until the space between us disappears.
His hand moves to my jaw, thumb brushing away a tear.
“You think I didn’t suffer?” he whispers.
“You think I didn’t die a little every time I would think about him touching you. ”
I freeze, breath caught somewhere in my thorax, and still, he continues.
“Every time, the same question plagued my mind.” His voice is rough, his grip even more. “Dime mami*, could he make you feel what I did? Did you ever scream his name the way you would mine?”
My heart stutters. Unsure whether to stop or run rampant when his finger trails down the length of my neck. He presses closer, his forehead resting against mine. “Tell me,” he breathes. “Did he know where to touch you? Where to lick you?”
I can’t speak.
I’m a shaking mess, trying hard not to show it.
Yael’s lips hover just above mine, a silent question.
A demand. And then the world tilts on its axis.
I’m not sure who moves in first, but before I know it, his hands are under my dress, my legs are wrapped around his waist, and my back presses against the brick wall.
He devours my mouth, his tongue demanding for my body to yield.
I groan into him, my hips moving, seeking that delicious friction.
How long has it been since I've felt this hunger?
This passion is burning me alive. His firm erection presses into me, just like I remember. Thick and long. Just what I need.
“Just one time,” I breathe against his lips. “Just an itch.”
He chuckles, gripping my ass hard enough to bruise me. “Then scratch it.”
“Okay,” I whisper, allowing my body to relax when he lifts me onto the black metal ladder that sits on the rooftop. The possessiveness in his eyes is palpable, each touch flooding with heat. I grind into him and he hisses.
“Fuck, Adri,” he moans, licking his lips, devouring me with his eyes. “I want to taste you… feel you… I–”
My mouth crashes into his before he finishes the last word. I can’t. Only one time… that’s it. He pulls away, his fingers moving towards my throbbing center.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he growls. “Y yo si tengo sed.”*
With that, his fingers slide beneath the fabric, my body arches into him, and I moan. My toes curl in my sandals from his touch.
* Y tú también - And you too
* gran pela que ta dando - big whooping he’s delivering
* Tu te fuiste, no yo - You left, not me.
* Dime mami - Tell me, mami.
* “Y yo si tengo sed.” - And I’m so thirsty.