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“Hey, don’t do that. I’ve seen this before; you’re digging yourself into a hole,” Chanel tells me sternly.
“What?”
She doesn’t even know what I’m thinking.
“Ever since León made you feel like no one would ever want you the way you want them. You’ve held back from your feelings, and you dig yourself into a hole of insecurity. If I’m honest,hermana, insecurity is the worst thing a person can possess.”
Her comment pangs me in the chest yet again. Most times, Chanel is frank with the people around her. Cleo has always been blunt in the way you sugarcoat things, but Chanel says it how it is. I can’t hide the clear hurt in my eyes, processing her words until she continues.
“We’re all insecure. I’m even insecure at times, but it holds us back from our capabilities. We are humans, and overall, we are flawed. Holding onto that fear of rejection will hold you back from finding someone who will do the opposite. It’s not going to disappear because it’s a natural thing we all possess, but you can work toward understanding what makes you feel insecure.”
Chanel has always been the wise sister, while I’ve been the mom of the three of us. Even though she can seem unaffected by people’s emotions, she’s a realist at heart. She helps people by telling them the objective way of fixing their problems.
It’s Chanel’s language of being nice.
“Thank you,” I reply. Sometimes it’s refreshing when someone is truthful, and I know I have my sister for that.
“No problem.” Chanel gives me a small smile, a rare one.
Her reaction leaves a huge grin on my face, and she rolls her eyes when she sees my expression.
Out of nowhere, I hear cheers. I turn my head toward the noise. People are surrounding two people dancing. I can’t quite make out the figures, so I get up and get closer.
Then I see Xavier dancing with a girl in a bright red dress. He’s dancing, twirling her around, and doing a sidestep with her hand in his. His expression seems friendly, but his partner’s face tells me something different.
The next thing I know, my body is moving toward the circle. I don’t know what exactly fuels this newfound frantic state, but it moves me in the direction of the crowd. I push through a few bodies on the small dance floor until I make my way to the front. Cleo is beaming at them as she claps along with everyone. Once she notices me, she gasps. She walks over, grabs my arm, and replaces the red girl’s position with me. His previous dance partner looks taken aback at Cleo intervening as she practically rips her out of Xavier’s grip.
A sense of relief fills me at her being out of his arms, but then I realize I have to dance. Internally, I groan, and it’s not because I’m dancing with Xavier. Quite the contrary, it’s because I hate being the center of attention and everyone is staring at us.
“Pegate” by Ricky Martin starts playing, which makes my anxiety spike. It’s a fast-paced song that most people generally can’t even dance to. The beginning starts playing, and I glance in Xavier’s direction.
“Well, look who decided to join the fun.” His tone is playful.
“I don’t like dancing in front of people,” I tell him under my breath, so no one around us can hear.
“Just focus on me,” he tells me with a wink. He steps back and starts moving his hips to the beat. Thinking about people dancing generally makes me cringe, but I go along with it. One thing I do know how to do is move to the beat. I’m Mexican, after all, and since birth, we’ve been taught to move in some capacity.
He’s moving in such suave movements, but his face is entirely different. He pushes his shoulders up to the drum beat and his face is in it. He then moves toward me and grabs my hand at my side. Our fingers touch softly until his whole hand enraptures mine. The pads of his fingers send butterflies into a frenzy in my stomach. He twirls me, doing it again and again to the beat.
Pulling me into him, his breath fans against the side of my neck. We stay there for a second until the song gets faster, and his feet move to the beat. It’s hard to catch up with him initially, but then I get the hang of it. He takes both of my hands then plays around with the music by pushing our hands back and forth between us. I let out a laugh before a squeal leaves me as he twirls me around. As the song ends, he dips me.
I laugh, my head tilting back at the movement of everything. Dancing with Xavier is actually really fun. It’s nothing like my previous experiences. To be fair, I’ve only ever danced with my father (who has two left feet) and my uncle, who is way too into the dance to begin with. Xavier is just carefree as he moves, making it enjoyable for his dance partner.
Pulling me back up, our faces are inches apart, and his nose is brushing against mine. His gaze is different; it’s not his usual playfulness. It’s darker than normal and filled with an intensity I can’t quite place. His skin has various freckles I hadn’t noticed before, and his brown eyes are darker than their usual mahogany. His scruff isn’t necessarily manicured, but it leaves a sexy shadow on his chin, and his lips are plumper than the last time I glanced in their direction. Staring at his lips for a bit, the sound of clapping takes me out of my train of thought.
But Xavier doesn’t fail to notice my admiration.
“My eyes are up here, Blondie,” he whispers. His eyes are no longer that intense; instead now filled with curiosity. I let go of him almost instantly, stepping back and creating space between us.
A light ‘sorry’ spills from my lips.
The people who were just surrounding us disperse into their groups as they continue to dance. He stares at me in silence, and I occasionally look up, trying to decipher what he’s thinking, but I fall short. I want to know every thought that races through his mind.
I bet his brain is filled with color and it’s something I wish I could see.
He snaps out of his stare with a curious look. I breathe out a sigh of relief that our atmosphere isn’t as intense anymore. I feel comfortable as we usually are.
“I didn’t know you could dance, Blondie. When you told me no dancing, I assumed you hated it and were horrible at it.”
