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She nodded, looking nervous. “Yes. It’s just… This is usually easier for me to say. I don’t go out with guys more than a few times unless we go as friends. I’m not interested in dating anyone right now. Are you okay with being friends? Maybe I’m reading this wrong. I mean, if you really need to leave, I’m good with that, too.”
She would not be good with it. It was written all over her face and in her body language, every part of her fighting to appear casual and unconcerned, all while waiting for me to reject her again.
Not happening.
“Yes, of course I want us to be friends again.” I’d never wanted anything more in my entire life. I mean, I wanted other things too, but I’d keep that part to myself. In fact, if she knew hownotplatonic my feelings were, she’d throw me out of here faster than I could say ‘enchiladas.’ So, friendship it would be.
She looked so relieved and happy that I couldn’t be disappointed. After all, her friendship was more than I deserved.
“Okay. Then let’s eat.” She led me back into the kitchen with a hop in her step.
Fact: Reconciliation made her happy. So did food. Probably feeding people, too. I added cardigan sweaters to the list, remembering her in the red one from work the other day layered over a black lacy top. The combination of black and red looked incredible against her golden-brown skin. No wonder the water guy made a beeline for her desk.
I shook those thoughts away. Being only friends was going to take some serious focus. Starting now. I could do this.
Carmen handed me a large serving of leftover enchiladas and motioned for me to warm them up in the microwave. “You good with splitting that?”
“Sounds great.”
I put it in and hit warm, watching the plate spin behind the microwave door, the cheese on top getting gooey and delicious. Carmen handed me a clean plate, and I pulled the food out and divided it evenly. We both took Coke cans from the fridge.
I brought my food over to the tiny table, but Carmen took hers straight to the couch and sat down, setting her drink on the coffee table on top of a bright green coaster with an octopus painted across the top. “Don’t tell my mother. I eat most of my meals here while watching trashy television.” She settled back, crossing her legs and resting her plate on her lap. “You’re allowed to join me, you know.”
“Oh, okay.”
And then we just stared at each other.
Chapter 9 - Carmen
People didn’t normally describe me as intimidating. In fifth grade, I played The Big Bad Wolf in the school play. For weeks, I practiced skulking around looking menacing and growling so fiercely, I worried babies might cry at my performance.
No, sir. Everyone laughed. They called me adorable. They patted my head. Grr.
Nobody getting patted on the head can be considered a threat, no matter how grouchy it makes them. I got patted on the head a lot. Less as an adult, but it still happened, a hazard of being shorter than everyone around me. Mostly, I got titles like ‘cute’ and ‘fun.’
Staring at Isaac, I’d finally found someone to intimidate. And now I didn’t even want it.
Why had I spent years wishing I could make him sorry? He’d obviously been punishing himself without any help from me. What a waste. My grudge had died, once and for all, and in its place was a fierce longing to make up for lost time.
“Sit,” I prompted, patting the seat cushion next to me.
He sat, leaving plenty of space so we could eat our food without bumping into each other. And to maintain the friendly distance I’d insisted on. I would not allow myself to be sorry about that last part. It was for the best. Chemistry had a way of complicating things. Friendship was easier. Less chance of being one-sided, more meaningful, and most importantly, friendships could last forever.
“Any updates from your family?” he asked.
Gia had texted when they arrived, but I hadn’t heard a peep since. I picked up my phone and checked again. “Nothing. I’ll ask my sister how it’s going.” I sent her a quick text, asking about Papá.
“What does your dad do for work?” Isaac asked, looking worried.
“He’s retired. He sold his business a couple years ago. They install security gates for schools and HOAs. Things like that. Being off his feet is still going to drive him crazy, but we’ll get through it.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.” I was already rearranging my schedule in my mind so I could help Mamá.
“Okay, so define ‘trashy TV’ for me.” Isaac picked up the remote from off the couch and handed it to me. “Are we talking telenovelas?Game of Thrones?Married at First Sight?”
I snorted. “None of those. I like the heavily-scripted cooking shows where they have interviews every five seconds, even though they only get thirty minutes to make a gourmet meal out of day-old takeout, while blindfolded.” I found one in my queue calledCooking Crunch Timeand started episode one so he could see how little I was exaggerating.
