Nothing we did was romantic. That was the beauty of our relationship. I took a long look at Mateo, and his flattened brown curls and confused brown eyes. He was adorably cute with his button nose and Crest Whitestrips smile, that much was true, which was why when I was in his presence, I usually got naked.
Still, I remembered Russo’s words.You can’t trust anyone, kid.
His stunt moves may not be a match for mine, but for a novice? I mean, I guess he probably could subdue someone.
“How did you even find me?”
“Spark app,” he said, and shrugged. “You left your location beacon on, sí? So I figured you might want me to come find you.” His mouth curled up in a knowing smile.
I could’ve kicked myself. How had I forgotten to turn off my location on the app? Ugh, rookie mistake.
“I think you should go back to Chicago,” I said, figuring that the best way to do this was to rip the Band-Aid off quickly.
“But I just got here,” Mateo protested with a slight pout. He fell back on my unmade bed and spread his arms. “And shooting wrapped on the movie.” He toyed with the strap of my sling bag hanging near the bed.
“Are you here because of me, or did you have a fight with your roommates?”
Mateo propped himself up on his elbows again and looked at me sheepishly. “My roommates won’t let me come back until I pay them back rent, and I’m still waiting on the last payment from the movie,” he admitted.
Now I was starting to doubt my suspicions. How could Mateo be the Canceled Killer if he couldn’t even figure out his rent situation?
“I decided to stop by and see you before I go to Milwaukee,” he said. “That’s where mi familia lives.”
They did? I actually didn’t remember this little tidbit, but I did remember him saying something about moving to the mainland from Puerto Rico when he was twelve. I also still wasn’t sure I knew his last name. I knew he was younger, but I don’t remember us nailing down real ages. Again, we didn’t talk about things like birth years or family sizes (did he even have siblings?).
“I can’t believe the Turtle made it,” he admitted. Mateo owned a rusted ancient green Pinto he lovingly called the Turtle.
Mateo got it as a gift from one of the movies he’d been on because of some excellent stunt driving he’d done. He taught me how to do donuts in that car.
My head spun. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I texted you,” he said.
I grabbed my phone and realized that I did have Spark app messages. Mateo had dropped me a location pin.
“That was right before you got here,” I said.
“Sí,” he groaned. “The pin wouldn’t make sense otherwise.”
I shook my head. “It’s not a good time,” I said.
Mateo’s face fell. “You’re disappointed. You…” He glanced wildly around. “Wait. You and… Jude? Are you two…” He crossed his index finger over his middle. “Oh, no. I didn’t realize you were dating anyone.”
“No,” I said, louder than I meant. “I’m not dating anyone.” Especially not Jude.
Mateo looked temporarily pleased before his countenance grew cloudy again. “Wait. Not even that cop?”
“No. I’m not dating anyone,” I reiterated.
“So we can…” He began taking off his shirt.
“No. Definitely not.”
He shrugged, and tugged down his shirt.
“This is a small town, and everyone gossips, and…” I tried to explain anyway.
Mateo raised his eyebrows. “Sí, your hometown. Is this about the mayor?”
