Page 34 of Mutual Discord

And when it came down to it, Alex was my friend but he was Caitlin’s boyfriend first, and his loyalties would always end with her. As they should.

So instead, I said, “Because Caitlin is busy. She’s off to a new city every week. Shoot, sometimes twice a week. She doesn’t have time for my silly little channel.” I gestured with my chin to where my friend was still chatting and taking pictures with students. “And you heard her up there. Even in her success she’s uplifting others. And there are others who need her help more than me.”

“You’re helping people, too,” Alex argued.

I scoffed. “Not like her, though.” Which I knew wouldn’t make sense to Alex.

Sure enough, Alex rolled his lips together and I could see frustration in his inky gaze.

“It’s just…” I ran my tongue over the front of my teeth as I considered my response. “I want to do this on my own. I don’t want to be successful at this because Caitlin leveraged her followers to help me. Or because people learned I’m Caitlin Wolf’s friend. I want to be successful because my content is deserving of it. Because I worked hard to make it happen.”

With alarm, I realized I was a bit breathless. Apparently I was more passionate about this than I thought.

“That makes sense,” Alex said slowly. “But it also sounds like something like this may have happened before.”

I looked away, not wanting to confirm or deny his statement.

“Caitlin strikes me as the kind of person whom the sun perpetually shines upon.”

“Busting out the whoms, are you?” I said with a snort.

“Trying to redirect the conversation, are you?” Alex pointed out, poking me in the arm.

“Too bad it didn’t work,” I grumbled, ignoring how his answering laugh made my stomach swoop. “Caitlin’s worked hard, and she’s also been very lucky. She’d tell you the same thing.”

“I mean, she did earlier, during her speech.”

I dipped my head in acknowledgment. “But again, you and I both know that luck strikes us differently. Not as frequently. Luck for us is much more fickle.”

Alex crossed his arms over his chest. “Luck is a fickle bitch, that’s for sure.”

“That’s why I’m working hard now, so that if luck does come my way, I’m ready. Whether people know I’m Caitlin Wolf’s friend or not.” My gaze snared his. “Does that make sense?”

He slowly nodded, his eyes glued to my face. “Perfectly.”

Chapter Ten

“Ay, nena, you got sun today,” Mamí crooned, running her thumb over my cheekbone.

I waved away her hand with a scowl. “It’s not that bad. I wore sunblock and a hat.”

Mamí’s dark eyes swept over my face. “No, it’s not that bad, but let me grab some aloe vera from the patio and you can wipe it on this spot here. And this one,” she said, touching a pink mark on my shoulder.

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I nodded. “Fine, I’ll use the aloe vera.”

She wouldn’t stop hounding me until I agreed, so it was better not to argue.

I had just returned to my parents’ house, leaving Caitlin and Alex in front of Old Main as they walked back to their hotel. I was proud of myself for not watching as they ambled away, side by side, because I wasn’t a masochist. But they were due to arrive in the next hour, and I needed to shower, change, and then help my mother with dinner.

Already the house, an adobe pueblo-style home tucked along a tree-lined street several blocks from campus, was redolent with the delicious scents of garlic and spices. When my stomach growled, Mamí scoffed.

“Andale,” she said, nudging me in the center of my back toward the guest room. “Hurry and shower. If you help me cut the aguacate, I’ll set aside some pernil for you to snack on.”

“Deal,” I said without a second’s hesitation.

Thirty-five minutes later, I stepped into the kitchen and immediately got to work on the avocados that were sitting in a bowl on the counter. Slicing through the thick skin, I smiled when I was greeted with perfectly green flesh. One never knew what would be waiting for them inside an avocado skin. The sliding glass door to the back patio opened as I was fanning out avocado slices on a plate.

“There you are. How are you, mi amor?” my father asked, setting down an empty glass on the counter and leaning in to buss my cheeks.