Page 68 of Raspados & Regret

The line.

The fact that I just kissed Elías Cárdenas like I wanted to climb inside his skin and set up utilities. He watches me carefully, chest heaving, lips parted. The jokes are still there in his eyes, but there is something else too.

A question.

Maybe the same one digging through my chest, sharp and insistent and terrifying.

What now?

So I do what I understand. I pick a fight.

“You tell anyone, I’ll deny it,” I say, clearing my throat.

His eyebrows rise, and watch the emotion leave him on an exhale. “Wow.”

“What?” I shrug.

“You really said that with your whole ass chest.”

“It’s a good chest.”

“It is.” His eyes drop, lingering. “Terrible personality though.”

“You weren’t complaining five seconds ago.”

“I wasn’t.” he snatches his glasses from my collar with a shaking hand. “And don’t worry, tough guy. I’m not telling anyone.”

I nod.

Good. Good.

That’s real good.

So why does it feel wrong?

Elías looks toward the market lights, toward the noise and the crowd and the life we have to go back to. “Besides, your face will tell everyone anyway.”

I glare. “The fuck you mean?”

“Your face currently says, ‘I discovered men and I’m mad about it.’“

I choke, and he laughs, dodging when I reach for him, dancing backward, eyes bright.

“Too soon?” he asks.

“Way too soon.”

“But accurate?” he smiles. “Am I right?”

“Keep walking.”

He starts toward the booth, backward, still grinning at me like he knows a secret.

Elías looks wrecked—mouth kissed red and swollen. Glasses not sitting straight on his face. Shorts ridden up, with a hickey blooming on his neck where I put my mouth.

My wreckage.

For now.