Page 27 of A Curvy Girl’s Hurricane Survival Guide

The hand squeeze from earlier still lingers on my skin like static. I want more. I want to pull her close, to tell her that her pink room, her ridiculous name, and her blue Gatorade disaster only make me like her more. I stay still, however, smiling politely, worried that pushing now will only make her pull away harder.

Outside, the storm is a toddler making a fuss, rattling the boarded windows and bashing the walls as if upset at being ignored. Inside, the family keeps laughing, passing plates, acting as if everything is normal. But for the first time since we’ve landed in Miami, the atmosphere in the room feels fragile. Like one wrong word, one honest confession might blow it all apart.

Cai glances at me again, her eyes searching mine for something I’m not sure I can give without breaking the careful balance we’ve built. I offer her a small smile and gently touch her arm. I’m asking a lot of a small gesture, but I want her to know I am still here for her. Internally, however, one question keeps circling:

How much longer can I keep pretending this was just a storm we are riding out together?

Rule #12

POWER OUTAGE DOESN’T MEAN THERE WON’T BE ELECTRICITY

SONNY

When everyone appears to be done eating, as if a silent signal has passed through the room, the women—including Cai and her sister Alex—stand up and begin clearing plates. The table transforms from a sea of food into a retreat of clinking dishes and scraping chairs.

Cai turns to me with a small, apologetic smile. “Give me a few minutes to clear the table and at least pretend to put up a fight to do the dishes. Shouldn’t take long.”

I nod, leaning back in my chair and basking in the warm afterglow of the meal. The food still sits heavy and satisfying in my stomach, but my mind is on the electricity in that hand squeeze.

Once Cai and Alex are far enough away from the table, Rey leans in conspiratorially, his voice low. “So… you got it bad, huh?”

My mouth falls open. I hadn’t realized I’d been that obvious. Heat creeps up the back of my neck. For a second, I consider denying it, but what was the point? Rey has clearly been watching us all night.

“I’m not sure,” I finally say, keeping my voice equally quiet. “She’s pretty great, but she’s not exactly available.”

Rey nods knowingly, like a man who has walked this road before. “Let me tell you something. I had to watch the woman I love ignore me for years. Go out with other guys. Flat-out reject me more times than I can count.” He pauses, his eyes softening as he glances toward Alex, who is laughing with the other women in the kitchen. “It was brutal, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

His smile’s proud, warm, and completely unguarded. It hits me harder than I expected.

I want that easy confidence. The certainty that the person you love will choose you back, messy family and all. But every time Cai defends Trevor, or even brings him up, it’s another reminder that I’m still the outsider here.

I am the one risking a major product launch and important meetings, and for what? To ride out a hurricane with a woman who might never see me as more than a kind stranger?

The lights flicker again, longer this time. A screaming whistle sounds outside, and the roof groans in answer.

Rey takes a swig of his beer, oblivious to both the storm raging outside and the one building in my chest.

“Just don’t give up too soon, man. Some things are worth the wait.”

I force a smile and nod, but inside, the doubt keeps circling: At what point did chasing someone still hung up on someone else become a lost cause? As an adult, my career, my success- that is what I have to offer others. But if that comes from gaming, would she even see it as a success? Would the career I built fall into her ‘negatives’ column? Without that, what else do I bring to the table?

Cai returns a few minutes later, wiping her hands on a paper towel. “Mama had a premonition. She expects us to lose power within the next thirty minutes. There are still some candles and flashlights I stashed away last time I was home that she hasn’t rounded up. Join me to collect them?”

“Lead the way,” I say, grateful for the excuse to move.

We start in the linen closet, pulling out a cardboard box filled with candles. Some look newer, some are half-melted, several have portraits of saints glowing softly on the glass. As we hunt for flashlights, Cai’s voice drops.

“You know that Gatorade story they were laughing about earlier?” She doesn’t look at me. “I hate it. I was in a really bad place back then. Super self-conscious about my weight. I wouldn’t eat in front of anyone. I’d hide food and binge when I was alone.”

She swallows hard, like the next part is stuck in her throat. “During that hurricane… I don’t know if something I’d stashed had gone bad or if it was just too much sugar on top of everything, but I got sick. Really sick. And then my parents found out what I’d been doing. I wanted to die of embarrassment. Mama and Papa never brought it up again; Papa just repainted my room and acted like I had a stomach bug, but I still cringe every time I think about it.”

My chest tightens. I want to pull her close, to tell her none of that changes how I see her, but the words feel too big for the narrow hallway. So I just stay quiet, listening.

We move into the bathroom where she cried earlier. Cai crouched to grab two flashlights from under the sink, adding them to the box without meeting my eyes.

“Last stop,” she says, heading toward her childhood bedroom. “I have a box up here with some candles and a lantern that will be useful. Can you give me a hand?”

The closet is a narrow walk-in space lined with hanging clothes, drawers, and a high shelf. A sudden streak of yellow-green light flies past our faces, and Cai gasps. “¡Un Cocuyo!” She says and reaches for it. The small glowing bug flies right into her hand.