I never said anything because when I tell him I’ve been on a date, he spends his time dissecting it and telling me what went wrong. What I did wrong, how I scared the guy off, or how the guy is an asshole, or how the guy would end up being an asshole.
For once, I wanted a minute to enjoy a nice date, with a nice guy, without Apollo going allHe’s Just Not That Into Youon me.
I’ve seen the old movie, and while it would potentially make my life a hell of a lot easier if Apollo was criticizing all my dates because he was secretly in love with me, he really isn’t. He enjoys being a dick. A grumpy dick at that. And rude. A grumpy, rude dick. How am I even friends with this man? I’m a fucking delight.
For someone so perfect to look at, he has a list of crappy qualities a mile long. He’s lucky I love him.
Sighing, I nod. “I did.” I move to turn the music back up, bumping his leg in the process, but he nails me with his infamous side eye.
“Not good?”
“No, it was good.”
“Not great?”
I shrug but stay quiet.
“Where’d he take you?”
I smother a laugh. “The Taco Depot.”
He slows the car to a stop at a red light, and if life was a Gif, right now he’d be the Latina woman “gasps in Spanish” because his hand flies to his chest as his mouth drops open. “You’re shitting me?”
Like I said, he’s so fucking extra.
I can’t help it—I’m all out laughing at the disgust painted across his dark features. “He’d never been to Guac ‘n Roll and didn’t want to try somewhere new.” I shrug like it’s no big deal. “I really wanted tacos.” It’s totally a big deal. Abuelita de la Peña makes the best tortillas in the entire world, and let’s not even start on her tres leches cake. None of these things I should eat, but every now and then I can’t help myself. I guess he saved me from myself, but even then Abuelita’s mofongo is delicious.
He answers with a grunt, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel. “How was it?” His question is begrudging, cautious, and laced with contempt. His family-owned Guac ‘n Roll is a local institution in Latin cuisine.
I love rattling him, though, so I lean into it. “Fucking delicious. Best I’ve had.”
His jaw drops, his head spins to me, and I reach over to push his chin up so his mouth closes. “I’m kidding, el príncipe de las tinieblas.” I drop my voice. “If you tell Abuelita I even joked about that I’ll kill you in your sleep.”
When he started calling me princess, I returned the favor by asking his twin brother, Artemis, how to say prince of darkness in Spanish. Apollo pretends that it bothers him, but he loves it. It suits his life vibe. Tall, black hair, dark brown eyes, and brooding. Lots and lots of brooding. Like a Latino Derek Hale fromTeen Wolf.
“You know nowhere beats your Abuelita’s tortillas.”
He nods, the light changes to green, and he pulls forward into the intersection. The screen of his phone lights up with another call from his father, but we both ignore it. He doesn’t need that ball ache right now.
Blinding lights catch my attention out the passenger window, but before I can process what’s happening, or react, they charge into us at speed.
Glass explodes into shards as the metal frame of the car buckles, searing pain envelops my entire body, and somewhere in the distance someone’s screaming. By the time I realize it’s me, everything’s going dark.
CHAPTER2
Edith
Imight be dying.
Bright lights tease the edges of my awareness drawing me back to consciousness. Everything’s blurry, blinding, and hurting so fucking badly.
The pain isn’t a dull ache, it’s a sharp stabbing, a deep burning, an all-consuming body ache that hurts so bad even breathing causes pain.
I’m cold. I think I’m still in Apollo’s car, but I’m not sure. It doesn’t feel right. Liquid trickles across my forehead, and I can’t move to check whether it’s water, gasoline, or blood. I don’t think I want to know.
I move my mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.
Something shifts to my right, and pangs of white-hot pain radiate down my leg.
