19. A Distraction I Didn’t Think I Needed
19
A Distraction I Didn’t Think I Needed
Diana
Did I just really tell someone that they don’t know how to be selfish?
That’s one of two things that are keeping me awake on a Sunday morning. In fact, it’s so early that the damn sun is barely out. I actually did fall asleep but I had a recurring dream where I asked that question—which ended up with a completely different outcome—and it kept on waking me up because of some stupid explosion.
You know how dreams are.
The second reason? Because I need to video-call my family. It’s only seven in the morning in Miami and both my sister and Dad do not believe in sleeping in. Especially on today of all days. I’m sad that I can’t be over there today but the call is the closest I can get.
After tossing and turning for what feels like an eternity, I feel awake enough to move and slip out of bed. I quietly tiptoe around the darkness of my and Lucia’s bedroom, being careful not to wake her up, and grab my cell phone, black robe, and fuzzy slippers as quietly as I can to not wake Lucia up.
Once I descend the stairs—like the graceful quiet fairy that I am not —I head for the back door and right outside the backyard.
Since moving to college, I have always made sure to wake up as early as possible before class or work to call my family on this day. Every year without fail. Thankfully, it’s Sunday—a day in which I have neither. I still need to wake up due to the stupid three-hour time difference between here and Miami.
After taking a seat by one of the lawn chairs outside, I press the call button on Crystal’s contact and wait for her to answer. It’s no surprise that she answers after three rings. Her face pops up on my phone and I smile. I last saw her in person before moving in July but she’s grown so much since. She may only be sixteen but Crystal will always be my baby sister.
“Oh, finally!” My sister says. “Dad was worried, you know.”
I roll my eyes. “No, he wasn’t.” Though with my dad, it’s possible. He has this panic mode that Mom called “Defcon Ultra,” which is a pretty accurate representation. When we lost Mom, it got worse.
“Oh yeah,” she says. “You didn’t contact us at all last month.”
“Because I was busy with midterms,” I remind her.
My sister narrows her eyes at me. “Not that busy, Di.”
Thankfully, Dad enters the frame before I can answer Crystal’s question, and his brown eyes light up in relief. “ Mijita! ”
I laugh softly. “ Hola, papá. ”
“How are you? Passing your classes? Staying safe? No drugs or drinking?” Dad asks in Spanish. He stacks one question after the other like a rushed game of Jenga and I have to ask him to repeat. I grew up speaking Spanish because neither of my parents wanted Crystal and me to lose touch with our roots but it's still hard to keep up with him.
“Calm down, Dad.” With how fast he’s talking, you’d think there was a fire. I try to update him on my classes but he freaks out about my calculus class—hello? Scholarship kid over here— because of course he does. It’s in his nature to be worried about me.
“Did you fix it?”
I nod, smiling about that ninety I received. “My grade is better than ever.”
Crystal finally takes over the screen. “What’s that smile for?”
Almost instantly, my smile disappears. “What smile?”
“Don’t act coy with me, Di,” she accuses. “You look like a lovesick puppy.”
“Crystal, when have you ever known me to be lovesick?”
“Fair point.” She taps a finger to her chin in thinking. “Oh, did I tell you about my driver’s test? I passed!”
At the mention of driving, my heart drops slightly but I don’t show it on my face. “That’s great! On the first try?”
She smiles brightly as she nods. “It was so scary but I did it. My actual license doesn’t come in for a few more weeks but I can finally go to the beach without Dad now.”
“Hey,” Dad calls. “I’m a fun chauffeur.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t,” she calls back.
“I’m proud of you, Crys,” I tell her. My little sister got her driver’s license before me. I really am proud of her but at the mention of driving, my heart starts pounding in my head. “Mom would be too.”
Crystal’s eyes soften at the mention of Mom. She was only nine when I got into that car accident. Only nine when we lost our mother that same night, so it hadn’t affected her as it did me. She’s lucky to still carry that optimism she was born with. A perfect balance to my type A pessimism that’s terrified of stepping into a moving vehicle, no matter how hard I try to combat it these days.
Even when I prepare myself for the eventual worst, I always feel like I’m taking ten steps backward.
“Thanks, Di.” Crystal’s gratitude brings me back to the present and out of the deep and dark place of my thoughts. It’s a bad route to go—the road where all my self-doubt and insecurities lie.
I finally feel the sun hit my face as Crystal continues to tell me more about her basketball season as well as her friends. I still can’t believe that she’s already a junior in high school. She’s got a more prominent social life at that age than I did.
I hear the door open and turn to the back door. Huh, no one’s outside. I swear I heard a creaking door. Shrugging, I turn back to my phone screen and, out of the corner of my eye, I spot it.
Or rather, him.
I swallow as quietly as I can because the sight in front of me is equally surprising. Carson Ryder, right outside his door. More specifically, a shirtless Carson with running shorts, a pair of worn-out sneakers, and ankle-high white socks.
Why are shirtless men my Achilles heel? Better yet—why can men just roll out of bed and look like that? With no fucking effort? It’s highly unfair to the straight female gaze.
Almost instantly, the words I threw at his face on Wednesday come back to haunt my brain and I wince. Visibly.
“Diana!” Crystal shouts. Wow. With those lungs, she could wake up the entire street I’m on through the phone. She should have joined cheer instead.
“Sorry,” I apologize, faking a yawn. “I’m still a little tired.”
She furrows her brows. “You seemed fine earlier. Maybe you do need some sleep. It’s what, six in the morning over there? Don’t you have anything else to do? A party to host?”
I shake my head. “On a Sunday? No. No to all of that.” Especially because I planned to finish off the cherry tarts sitting in my fridge while watching Gilmore Girls .
Crystal doesn’t believe me and I can tell by the slight eyeroll. “I saw that!”
“Saw what?” She asks, fake innocence lacing her hazel-green eyes that are very similar to my own. Eyes we inherited from our mother. “I’m going to drink a cherry cola and leave you be. Good day, sister. And you better tell me what’s getting you distracted.”
My eyes instinctively move to Carson’s front door, and he’s not there.
“Or who.” She wiggles her eyebrows before I roll my eyes and disconnect the call.
I lean against the outer wall of my house and let out a breath, closing my eyes. Though Mom’s birthday has gotten easier, it’s still hard to remember a day like this—a celebration of life for someone who’s not alive. I’ve come to terms with a lot of things after Mom’s death but the pain of losing her always lingers.
“You okay?”
Opening my eyes, I find Carson leaning on the wall, arms crossed over his ivory shoulders, accentuating the anchor tattoo on his bicep. For some reason, I always thought he was much more tan than he is. He’s been living in California for as long as I have, if not way longer. Wouldn’t he have tanned at least slightly?
I’m not complaining because he’s always been handsome to me. That never changed from the day he threw a pie in my face.
“Diana?”
I blink. “Did you ask something?”
He nods slowly, blue eyes trained on me. “Yeah. Are you okay? You seem tired.”
I rub an eye. “It’s early. Why are you up?”
He jabs a thumb at the gate. “I’m going on a run. And I didn’t mean physically tired.”
Emotionally. Is it that obvious? “This early?” I ask.
He nods. “If daylight savings was still going on, it would have been earlier.”
All alone?
Carson raises a brow. “Yeah. Why? Did you want to join me?” Dammit, I said that out loud. I feel like I could get distracted easily if I went on a run with him.
But running would always take my mind off everything. I loved being a part of the cross country and track teams in high school. That was probably one of my favorite things to do. And I haven’t had time to go running because settling into college and work got in the way of any extra time I had.
Until today.
Should I stay at home and start my Gilmore Girls marathon early? Or do I go on a morning jog with a guy who has my heart racing? Well, as good as those cherry tarts sound, I need to clear my head now more than ever.
And running always helps.
I look down at my robe and fuzzy slippers before back up at Carson. “Give me a minute to change.”