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Chapter Seven
Jace
My lips are tingling and the taste of her skin on my tongue is winding me the fuck up. No matter how hard I try, I cannot stop tapping my foot under the table, or concentrate on this fine-ass meal Mrs. Navarro and the girls whipped up for us.
For the first time, Marisol’s beauty is all I can see, and I can’t get her off my mind. I wipe my hands down my face, trying to clear my thoughts.
“Qué pasa, amigo?” Alex notices my fussing.
“Nothing, man.” Even though I’m not convincing, he lets the excuse slide.
“Heather called. You want to head over there when we’re finished here?”
Is he testing me? It sure as hell feels like it. I’m sweating bullets and haven’t even touched his sister… yet. My hand finds its way through my hair again, flustered, listening to myself stumble through my feelings. At this rate, I’m going to go insane before I’m able to make another move.
Instead of letting this rollercoaster take over, I focus on the chicken enchiladas; one of my favorite meals. Who am I kidding? Anything that Mrs. Navarro cooks, I’d gladly shovel in my mouth. She could open her own restaurant, and I tell her so every time I eat her food, but she always laughs, blushes, and then shrugs off my suggestion.
Jasmine’s laughing along with an enormous smile plastered to her face, calming some of the chaos rioting inside, knowing she’s safe and having a good time. Then my attention is snagged by the bombshell sitting across from me. Every time I see her, my heart skips and then sprints. She becomes more beautiful with each glance. How does this happen overnight? One day, she’s my sister’s best friend and our neighbor, and the next, she’s my walking fantasy.
Mrs. Navarro laughs at something Jasmine says, pulling me from my internal wandering. Alex will see right through me if I keep acting like a virgin with a crush. As if sensing my thoughts, steely brown eyes track me like prey, narrowing with suspicion. Dammit.
The girls set plates and silverware down, then sit at the table to dig in. Jasmine’s with me on the bench, while Marisol takes the other chair next to her brother. Conversation fills the table as everyone passes dishes of food around.
The evening is full of what Jaz and I have only dreamed of, having a real family, and a proper dinner. Never. That’s how long it’s been since we’ve had family mealtime of our own. Our mom’s always been sure to leave Jasmine out of the dynamic. Margret used to cook—at least try—years ago and she still does when dad comes home on time, but that doesn’t happen often anymore.
After dinner, Marisol moves to the kitchen with a handful of plates. I follow closely behind, offering to help clean up. She sets the plates down in the sink and turns to grab the dishtowel off the counter, only to find me directly behind her.
“Oh!” she jumps, startled by my silent approach.
The reaction shows her nervousness, pleasing me immensely. “Sorry, thought you heard me offer to help.” One step and I’m in her personal space, steadying her by the elbow, chuckling.
Her cheeks flush; that caramel skin tinting a beautiful rose. “That’s okay, but thank you.”
We’re frozen, staring at each other, panting. My thumb slowly grazes over the soft skin of her arm, kicking my heart rate into overdrive.
“Mare, I…”
“Hey,” Alex interrupts, causing us to jump apart, as if we’ve been caught making out?which isn’t a bad idea. The making out part, not the getting caught. The thought has me considering Marisol’s lips. They’re so plump and kissable, and at the moment they’re moving, but the words make little sense.
“Right, Jace?” Her voice wraps around my name the way I want her lips wrapped around my…
“What?”
Alex answers for her. “I asked what the hell you were doing.” He’s glaring now. Oh yeah, he knows something’s up. Shit. “I thought we were going out.” He’s looking back and forth between the two of us, puzzling out an enigma we haven’t even figured out.
“Uh…” My brain turns to mush. Come up with a plan! “Sure. If you want to go, I’ll roll.”
Marisol’s features pinch for a moment, but then smooth, making me wonder if I’d seen it to begin with. Does she want me to stay? We’re still figuring out what’s going on between us, but I’m positive at this point that it isn’t one-sided.
“Good.” He turns to Marisol. “Sorry. You’re on your own with the dishes. We gotta go get our fu?”
“TMI!” Marisol holds her hand up, stopping his verbal diarrhea.
“Sabes que me amas, sis.” He wraps her in a headlock and hugs her with one arm.
“Yes, I love you, but that doesn’t mean I want to hear about either of your conquests.” She ducks out from under his arm, turning back to the sink.
My heart sinks a little in my chest. I want to ditch Alex and do all the dishes in the house, just to spend a few more minutes with her. Instead, I place the dishes I’ve been holding into the sink.
