Chapter 35 #2
“Did I hurt you?” she asks, throwing her hands in the air. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“No. You’re good. Try again.”
“Are you sure?”
He smiles down at her. “Absolutely.” Felix reaches down for her hands and places them both on his leg. This fucker is flirting with her. You’ve got to be kidding me. As soon as she turns away, I make a slicing motion with my thumb across my throat.
Felix’s eyes dance with mischief. I swear this asshole has a death wish.
Cecilia yanks on his leg again and this time with both of them pulling, they’re able to dislodge his leg from the iron rails on the banister.
Felix stumbles back into the wall before regaining his footing and as he does, two doors upstairs open and both Atticus and Deacon stick their heads out of their respective rooms.
“Everything okay down there?” Atticus asks. Green eyes scan the scene before him, and he grins. “Felix, what did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” he grumbles. “I was just walking up the stairs, minding my own business, when I tripped and somehow ended up with my leg stuck. I swear it’s like the railing reached out and grabbed me.
” Right. He was innocently walking up the stairs.
What he fails to mention is why he was downstairs to begin with.
Cecilia giggles and all four of our heads swing toward her. Her lips slam shut once she realizes she has our attention, and her cheeks heat, turning a beautiful shade of pink.
“Thankfully, this fine maiden saved me.” Felix reaches down and offers her his hand. Hesitantly, she places her hand in his and allows him to pull her to her feet. “My savior,” he croons.
Puh-leeze
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, stepping up beside them. “Don’t get stuck anywhere else tonight. We have a project to work on and you’re turning into a distraction.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know about it. What’s his angle here? “What’s the project about?”
None of his business.
“We have to put together a presentation arguing our stance on whether or not world powers should intervene in the genocide being committed by Israel against the Palestinian people.” Cecilia tells him.
“You’re pro-intervention, right?”
She rolls her eyes. “Obviously.”
“Cool. Want some help?” Felix asks her.
Absolutely the fuck not. This is supposed to be my time with Cecilia. I’m not fucking sharing it.
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Her eyes flick to me. “He can help, right?” she asks, biting on her full bottom lip. Fuck. Does this girl have any idea what she’s doing to me?
“We can help too,” Atticus says, stepping into the hall. Deacon follows suit, and the next thing I know, all three of these fuckers are following Cecilia and me as I usher her back into the dining room.
She eyes her original seat, gaze now assessing so before she says anything, I grab her books and the messenger bag she’d set on the table near the wall when she first came in.
“You three,” I dip my chin toward my roommates, “sit over there.” I indicate the side of the table that puts the wall at their backs.
Felix rolls his eyes, but no one questions the order as they shuffle one by one to the other side.
Cecilia exhales a small sigh of relief, and I set her things out on the opposite side of the table.
This leaves her back clear, so if she needs to get up quickly, she won’t be sandwiched between anyone. She won’t feel trapped.
I take the seat on her right, leaving the chair on her left open.
Cecilia’s gotten more comfortable around the guys now that she’s gotten to know some of them, but there are still moments when I can see the panic in her eyes. Like she feels the walls closing in.
She usually avoids leaving her back exposed. That’s why she claimed one of the seats against the wall to begin with. But that was when it was just the two of us.
She likes to see if anyone is coming and doesn’t like the idea of anyone sneaking up on her. With five of us here, her fear of being trapped outweighs her fear of being taken off guard.
“So, how far are you guys?” Felix asks, pulling Cecilia’s notebook across the table and skimming her notes. We spend the next hour over the table, bouncing ideas off one another. At first, it’s annoying. I don’t like sharing Cecilia’s time, let alone her attention.
How am I supposed to get her back with everyone else serving as a distraction?
But the longer we work together, the more she visibly relaxes.
Felix teases her every time she scowls, flicking her nose and reminding her that’s how she’ll get wrinkles.
And each time he says it, she laughs. Cecilia’s only twenty-one.
Wrinkles aren’t something she cares about, but she admonishes him, nonetheless.
Atticus asks her all sorts of questions about our topic. He seems genuinely interested and does a good job playing Devil’s Advocate, forcing us to think outside of the box to counter his arguments.
Deacon just watches us all at first. He’s still settling into the soccer house, but he’s comfortable enough. There’ve been a few times that I've caught him eyeing Cecilia with interest, but each time that he does, I make sure to catch his gaze and give him a warning look.
He dips his chin. An acknowledgment that she’s off limits.
I get why he’s interested. Any guy would be a fool not to be. She’s fucking beautiful. Her dark brown hair reaches past her shoulders and is complimented by her equally dark brown eyes.
She’s in great shape, thin but with a flare to her hips and the perfect sized tits.
Not that Deacon would know that since Cecilia’s typical outfit includes an oversized tee and ripped baggy jeans.
Which is good. Because if I caught him ogling her in her swimsuit or if the fucker ever caught a glimpse of her naked, I’d need to gouge his eyes out.
Cecilia’s thinner than what’s considered healthy for someone her size, but not so thin that she looks malnourished.
The weight loss is a result of her trauma.
She forgets to eat, but I don’t think it’s intentional.
At least, I hope it isn’t. It’s been a minute since I’ve really had to worry about her being depressed, but … I don’t know. Things changed.
Frowning, I take in her appearance, gauging whether or not there’s a reason for me to be concerned. I should have paid closer attention since the split. Obviously it’s had some sort of effect on her, even with her being the one to break things off.
How did I miss that?
I get up from my seat and pull out the bowl of campechana—a Mexican shrimp cocktail—Julio made the other day, along with some tortilla chips.
The locally made kind where the salt and oil coats the tips of your fingers when you eat them and they come in a large clear bag.
None of that Tostitos bullshit. Freaking Frito-Lay chips.
They’re not even a Mexican owned company.
If Cecilia is losing too much weight, there’s an easy way to rectify that.
“Oh, sweet!” Atticus says as soon as I set the bowl in the middle of the table. “I thought you guys ate all of it last night.”
Both Deacon and Cecilia eye the bowl curiously as Atticus uses a chip to scoop up some of the shrimp and vegetables.
“On a plate,” I admonish as I grab a stack of paper plates and a serving spoon.
“My bad,” he mumbles around a mouthful of food before releasing a groan. “So good.”
Spooning a portion onto a plate, I set it in front of Cecilia before serving myself some.
“What is it?” she asks, leaning forward to take a small sniff.
“You’ve never had campechana?” Felix asks her.
She shakes her head. “No. I don’t think so.”
Felix whistles. “You’ve been missing out.
” He grins. “After you try Julio’s campechana, you won’t know how you survived without it in your life.
The only one of us with better cooking skills than J is Gabriel but you’ll have to come around more often if you want some of his cooking.
The fucker is stingy and doesn’t make meals for us often. ”
Reclaiming my seat beside her, I take a bite of my own food, hoping it’ll encourage her to do the same. She takes a tentative taste and we all watch for her reaction.
“Oh, my God.” We all grin at her response.
“Good, yeah?” Atticus asks as he elbows Deacon. “Bro, try it.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but after watching Cecilia take a few more bites, he shrugs and goes for it.
“Okay, this is hella good.”
“Right!” Felix confirms. “Wait until you try Gabe’s gorditas. They’re to die for.”
Rolling my eyes, I throw a napkin at his head. “You haven’t had those in ages,” I tell him.
“I know,” he whines. “Which is all the more reason why you should step up to the plate and make them for us soon. Cecilia wants to try out your cooking skills, don’t you, pequenita?” Little one.
I grind my teeth, ignoring the nickname he uses for her. We’ll discuss that later. And instead look at Cecilia, who’s blush is now traveling down her neck.
“Yeah?” Felix encourages.
With a small smile, she nods. “Yeah, sure.”
Throwing my arm over the back of her chair, I lean in, blocking everyone else from view. “You want me to cook for you?” I ask, dropping my voice low. My heart is all of a sudden thundering in my chest. Felix was right when he said I don’t cook often, but I find myself wanting to cook for her.
“Mm Hmm,” she shrugs. “If you want to.”
My smile is wide as she tentatively matches my grin, and I sit back in my seat, leaving my arm draped over the back of her chair. She doesn’t admonish me.
“Alright then,” I tell her. “It’s a date.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cecilia’s lips part and her eyes widen at my casual use of the term date before she takes in the smiles on the guy’s faces across from her.
Felix cheers, making an unnecessary display of triumph that has the other guys laughing, but I don’t pay them much attention, waiting to see how Cecilia responds.
Her lips close and despite knowing she wants to, she doesn’t correct me. Instead, she offers me a barely perceptible nod.
Victory sweeps through me.
We eat our fill, and I make sure to add more to Cecilia’s plate when I see that it’s empty. The guys eventually wander off, finally leaving the two of us alone, but it’s getting late, and I know any minute Cecilia is going to tell me she has to go.
I start clearing our mess, putting what remains of the campechana back in the fridge while Cecilia starts to collect her things.
“We made decent headway,” she tells me.
“Yeah. Not too bad,” I agree.
“So, I … I guess—”
“Did you make a decision about tomorrow?” I ask. I know I should leave it alone. She agreed to dinner with me and the guys, and that alone is a win. But I can’t help but push.
“What about it?” she asks, a small furrow between her brows. Did she already forget?
“The game against Crown Point?”
Recognition dawns on her. “Oh. So, umm …”
“It would be cool if you came,” I tell her before she has the chance to make up some kind of excuse. “Maybe bring some of the swim team with you if you’ve gotten to know any of them.”
She chews her bottom lip. “I’ll ask.”
It’s not a no, so for tonight, it will have to do.