Page 75 of Raspados & Regret

“Good to know,” I say.

Fabián’s voice cuts in. “That’ll be nine dollars.”

The man glances at him. “I haven’t ordered yet.”

“You did.”

“No, I was asking for a recommendation.”

“And he recommended mango with chamoy.” Fabián taps the screen harder than necessary. “Nine dollars.”

The man’s eyebrows rise, and I turn away to make the raspado because if I look at Fabián, I will laugh and ruin everything.

Behind me, the man says, “You always this intense over shaved ice, my guy?”

Fabián answers, “Yes.”

I nearly drop the scoop, and when I hand the man his cup, he smiles at me. “Thanks, Lalo.”

He knows my name from the booth sign, obviously. Still, Fabián’s head turns like someone pulled a wire. The man winks, and being the flirt I am, I wink back.

Not because I want him but because I want to see if Fabián’s jaw can crack pavement.

It almost does.

The man leaves, and Fabián steps closer to me, his shoulder brushing mine. “Having fun?”

“So much.” I smirk, turning so I can look at him while he broods.

“Careful.”

I look up at him over my glasses. “There goes that warning again.”

“You like ignoring them.”

“I like when you make them sound like promises.” I tut. “Your promises do look so pretty in purple.”

His eyes darken.

Got him.

He leans closer, his voice low enough for only me. “You’re pushing it.”

“I thought you liked pushing me.”

“That mouth is gonna get you in trouble.”

I smile. “Not here.”

That stops him because this is the part he doesn’t get to control.

He can pin me to trailers when I let him, kiss me stupid when I ask for it without words, put hickeys on my neck, and make my knees do embarrassing things. But he does not get to corner me in front of a line full of TikTok detectives, my mother, and his tía.

Not unless I invite him, and baby, that invitation has been revoked.

For now.

The night gets worse from there.