Page 4 of Down Bad

It’s the first thing I notice about Diego. Even before the biceps or the illegally perfect cheekbones. That scowl. He never smiles.

I try for a joke to break the tension. Is there tension, or is that just me? “So many things all over the place … maybe I should’ve brought you a toolbox instead. Looks like you need one.”

“I don’t.”

His voice isn’t rude. Not exactly.

But it isn’t kind, either.

That annoys me instantly. “I brought you a welcome basket.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s neighborly.”

“I ain’t your neighbor.”

I shift my feet. Reapply my smile as if the sweat melted it off. “Well, you’re living in their house, and—”

“Only ‘til it sells.”

This basket is growing so, so heavy. “That doesn’t mean you don’t get snacky now and then. I put papaya in here—a favorite of your uncle’s—and two big banana-nut muffins from T&S’s, which are totally to die for, you’ll seriously devour them, baked fresh every morning. And who doesn’t like muffins?”

“Did my tía put you up to this?”

I bristle. He still doesn’t look at me. “No. I’m very well capable of irritating people all on my own.”

“I don’t need any welcome.”

“Well, I’m giving it anyway.”

Diego does an unexpectedly sprightly maneuver with his foot, and in an instant, the tool I kicked across the pavement is in his hand. “This,” he says, “is a ratchet. Not a wrench.” Then he’s right back under the hood with it.

Of all the things I’ve said so far, that’s what he chose to hear?

Me calling the tool by its wrong name?

What is it with this dude? Did his aunt or uncle prepare him at all? Tell him anything about me? Or does he simply not care?

I try to picture him wearing a smile.

And literally can’t even.

Despite still wearing my own. Tightly. Refusing to believe that this is how any decent person treats someone they just met.

He’s their nephew they love and adore … He’s their nephew they love and adore … He’s their nephew—

I plop the basket on top of his folded blue tarp.

His eyes flick to it. “Said I don’t need it.”

“No one needs a welcome basket,” I respond kindly. “They just accept it. You’re free to throw it away after I leave like a normal person.”

He lifts his face from the engine.

Gives me his full attention.

All of it.