Chapter 15
CECILIA
Through my peripheral, I catch sight of Gabriel’s friend as he climbs the steps of the bleachers. He moves slowly. Cautious. The way you would if you were approaching a caged animal. Like he knows one wrong move and I’ll spook.
My shoulders are stiff, body wound tight in anticipation of what he wants.
I clench my hands into fists, hating that his slow progression toward me makes my heart beat faster with each foot of distance he eliminates between us.
It takes everything in me to stay in my seat.
To not shove to my feet and race down the stairs to safety.
My knee bounces up and down. My breath quickens.
He pauses a few rows down from me and offers me a small wave. “Hey.” I glance at him briefly before choosing to ignore him as he takes a seat. He faces me, placing his back to the field, and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees while his hands hang loosely together.
“I’m Julio.”
My gaze flicks over him and I take in his broad shoulders. The sweat-soaked shirt he wears. It clings to his chest, highlighting his muscular frame. The sheer strength he has in his tightly coiled body.
My knee bounces a little bit faster.
If I bolt and he gives chase, hands down, he will catch me. No question about it. This guy—Julio, he said his name is—is in peak physical form. I’m no scrub myself. I work out. And I swim. But I’m not a runner.
Julio’s eyes watch me, tracking my movements, but he keeps his expression blank, making it difficult to tell what he’s thinking.
I glance to the side, seeking out Gabriel, but I don’t see him or the other guy anywhere close by. Without being too noticeable, I scan the soccer field before shifting to the locker room. Did he leave? Would he do that?
I shake away the feeling of being abandoned that threatens to sink into me and focus on the guy seated before me. He’s who I need to worry about right now.
“If you’re looking for Gabe, he’s still here.”
I ignore him, pretending I don’t care while straining my ears in case he says anything else about Gabe’s whereabouts.
“I suggested he go wait by the car. Give you and me a few minutes to talk.”
My brows pull together. What do he and I have to talk about? I’ve never even met him before. Not that I know of, at least. I give him another casual once over, taking in the heavy ink tattooed into his skin. A lot of guys on campus have tattoos, but nothing like this.
A dark skull decorates the top of one hand, flanked by dark red roses. Black leaves peak out from behind the crimson petals to mix with a thick coil of thorn tipped vines that twist and tangle a path across his forearm.
On his other hand is a catholic rosary, the delicate beads wrapping around his wrist before falling over the top of his hand, leaving the cross to rest between his thumb and index finger.
The details are meticulous. Even from here, I can see the level of artwork that went into the designs.
The shading and highlighting that make each bead look as if they’re a three-dimensional object resting atop his skin.
His neck is covered in ink, too. Colorful playing cards decorate the column of his throat, intermixed with traditional roses. They’re not your standard deck. Each card is decorated with a different yet familiar image. One holds a moon. Another has a bleeding heart.
It takes me a moment to place the game, but when I do, a small smile curls the corners of my mouth. “Loteria,” I whisper, not expecting him to hear me, but he does.
“You play?” He rubs the back of his neck and grins as if we’re just two old friends catching up.
I chew on my bottom lip and shake my head. “Not since I was a kid.” I admit.
“I sucker the guys into a game every now and again. Usually around the holidays, but it’s been a while. Maybe you can join us next time?” He shrugs. “If you want to.”
Right. That sounds like a terrific idea. Not. He did just see my massive meltdown, right? Why is he doing this? Talking to me? We don’t know one another, so he has no reason to initiate a conversation with me right now.
Folding my arms across my chest, I wait for him to stop tiptoeing around whatever it is that he wants, because he wants something. Guys like him always do.
“You okay? This enough space for you?” He indicates the gap between us.
“Y..yeah. I’m good.”
“Good. Good.” He presses his lips together before releasing a huff of breath. He glances around us, like he’s searching for the right words to say. And whatever they are, I need him to get on with it so I can get the hell out of here.
“Did you need something?” It comes out ruder than I intend, but I don’t bother to apologize or take it back. I stopped trying to be polite and make other people comfortable a long time ago.
He sighs. “Look, I know we just met and it’s not my place to pry into your business …” he trails off and shakes his head. “Sorry. I’m fucking this up.”
Julio rubs the back of his neck again. “You remind me of someone,” he admits.
I lift a single brow and wait for him to elaborate.
“Is that a good or a bad thing?”
He cracks his knuckles. A nervous gesture if I had to guess. “Both depending on how you look at it. You remind me of my friend, Alejandra.”
Okay. “Do I know her?” I ask, not really interested, but curious to see where he’s going with this.
“Nah. We went to high school together, but she transferred senior year when she moved to Sun Valley.”
“All Souls Academy?” I guess. It’s the high school I graduated from, not that I remember Julio from my time there. He might be a year or two above me. We could have attended the same school and just never crossed paths. Or maybe he’s an out-of-state transfer.
He chuckles. “Definitely not.”
I bristle at his tone, and he immediately backpedals.
“I’m not judging,” he adds. “But I didn’t come from money, and I didn’t have the grades for a scholarship to that kind of school. Allie and I went to Pacific Prep. Richland’s public school. Gabe and Felix, too. We’ve been best friends since grade school.”
“Mmm. Must be nice.”
“It’s good to have people you can lean on. Friends you know will have your back no matter what.”
I swallow hard and look away. Lucky him. I think about Joelle and Kim. How we were once thick as thieves. Until last summer, that is.
“I’m happy you have that. It’s good to have a support system,” I tell him and push up on shaking legs. “But I need to go. It was nice meeting you.”
“Don’t you want to know why you remind me of Allie?”
Not really, I want to say. But I bite my tongue and wait, knowing he’s going to tell me anyway.
He waves to my seat in a silent request. With a sigh, I sit back down and press my hands to my knees before giving him an expectant look.
His dark brown eyes soften, a sad smile curling the edges of his mouth.
I look away. I don’t like the way he looks at me.
It’s like he sees right through me. Into my soul.
It’s not creepy or uncomfortable, per se.
He’s not checking me out. But it's intimate in a way that says I see you. And I’m not sure I want anyone to really see me these days.
“Allie is one of my favorite people,” he says. “She’s kind and has this energy about her. There’s something that draws people to her. I tell her it’s her hobo mojo.”
“Hobo mojo?”
His smile widens. “Yeah. She’s one of those chicks that doesn’t try to impress anyone.
She’s comfortable in her own skin. Sweatpants with one of those messy bun things on her head.
” He smirks. “She’ll kick it with me and the guys, out eat us in pizza, and kick our asses in Call of Duty.
She rubs that shit in, too.” He shrugs. “She’s easy to be around. There’s never any pressure.”
“She sounds great.”
“She is.” Julio licks his lips. “Thing is, senior year after she moved to Sun Valley, she was assaulted.”
My head jerks toward him, and his smile dims.
“She was raped at a football game.” The air grows heavy around us. “After that night, she wasn’t the same carefree girl she used to be.”
I swallow hard. “No. I imagine she wouldn’t be.”
“She’s better now, though. She got help. Worked through her trauma.”
“That's good.” My chest tightens and I force myself to say, “I’m glad it all worked out for her.”
He eyes me intently, seeing more than he should.
“The thing is, when it was fresh, before she got help, she’d have these panic attacks.
She had a hard time being around guys. Even the ones she knew.
” He taps two fingers against his temple.
“In here, she knew I was her friend. But here,” he moves his hand to his chest, “here, I was a man. Someone bigger. Stronger. Someone who could hurt her if I wanted to.”
My breath seizes in my lungs.
“Is that what happened earlier?” he asks, his voice soft, like he doesn’t want to scare me away. “Have you been … hurt?”
I blink back my tears, reigning in my emotions the best I can.
“I’m sorry your friend was hurt. Something like that,” I shake my head, shoving down the emotions trapped in my throat.
“Nobody should ever have to go through what she did.” I swipe at my face before masking the movement by running my hands through my hair.
“I get that you don’t know me. In your shoes, I don’t think I’d open up to me either. But I think you could use a friend. And it might sound conceited, but I have some pretty great ones.”
“Are you offering them on loan or something?”
He chuckles. “I guess I am.” He digs in his pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. “Do you have a pen?” he asks.
I unzip the front pouch on my bag and pull one out before tossing it to him.
Bending at the waist, he uses his knee as a writing surface and scribbles something out over the page.
Without standing, he holds his arm out as far as he can go and holds the pen and paper out for me.
Hesitating for only a moment, I grab the offered items and take an immediate step back.
Unfolding the paper, I look at the name and phone number scrawled in neat writing.
Alejandra Ramirez 509-891-0004
“I’ll let her know you might reach out,” he offers. “No pressure. But I think she’d be someone who could help you.”
“I don’t—”
He raises a hand to stop me. “I don’t need any sort of explanation.
Your business is your own. I’m not here to judge.
But if I’m right—and even if I’m not— but if I am, and you need someone to talk to who’s been through a lot of shit and is good at listening, someone who might relate.
” He nods at the paper in my hand. “Give her a call. Allie’s good people. ”
He rises to his feet and almost as an afterthought says, “Gabe’s good people, too.
I don’t know what’s between you two. The fucker is supposed to be focusing on fútbol, but I’ll let it slide since you seem like a cool chick.
” He winks at me and I roll my eyes. “He cares, though,” he says, expression suddenly solemn.
“Gabe doesn’t care about many people. He has his own wounds he’s dealing with.
So if you can, take it easy on the guy, will you? ”
“Sure.” I don’t tell him I know about Gabe’s brother. Or add that Gabe is the one who inserted himself into my life. I get the feeling he’d ask me to be careful with Gabe anyway.
“That’s all I can ask for.” He looks from me to the gate that leads to the parking lot. “I’d offer to walk you, but I’ll save myself the rejection. Do you want me to head out first or would you like a head start?”
“You go ahead,” I tell him, not wanting him, or any other guy for that matter, at my back.
“Cool. Can I tell Gabe you’ll be down in a few? He’s waiting by your car for you, and knowing him, he’s probably pacing, worried I’ll scare you off with stories from his childhood or some shit.”
I snort. “Sure. You can tell him I’ll be right there.”
“Cool. I’ll catch you later.” He jogs down the bleachers with a wave before disappearing around the corner. When he’s gone, I take a deep breath and look down at the wrinkled paper still in my hand.
Julio is right about one thing. Maybe this Allie girl and I do have something in common after all.