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"I'm not finished talking, Santiago."
I nod nervously. "Yes, sir.Perdoname. I'm sorry."
"I had a talk with my father today." He shakes his head without looking away. My stomach drops. "I wanted to disagree at first because I want more than anything to make my wife happy, but not if my daughter has to go to her grandfather because she can't tell her own mother and father how she feels."–– his eyes water but blinks it away––"because she isashamed to disappoint me. To disappoint our family. When my father told me why she went to him, I knew I failed as a father. I failed my little girl. One day, if God blesses you with a child, you will understand the meaning of family." I'm confused, but whatever he will say next, I know I'll never forget. I see it in his eyes. He hates me. "I never thought I would tell you this, Santiago, but I don't want you around my daughter. She doesn't want to marry you, and I'm so happy she made that decision despite what that means for the future. I would never forgive myself if I forced her to marry a man who thinks so little of her. That takes her love for granted." It feels like all the air has been stolen from my lungs, and I can't breathe. "Elena Sincere doesn't exist to you. Touch my daughter, and I'll kick your fucking ass all over Hillside."
He gets up from his chair, and I stand, trying to breathe. What the fuck have I done?
"I-I'm sorry. I never meant…"
"Save it,ese. My daughter is no stalker, eh. Go fuck all the campus pussy you want. Trust me, plenty ofvatoswill treat her like aPrincessa. Now get out of my house."
I swallow the lump lodged in my throat. I can't breathe. Is he kicking me out? "I'm sorry, Aiden. Please," I beg, "I care about her…I never meant to hurt her… your respect means everything to me. I wasn't thinking…"
"Santiago, it's done. You got what you wanted. You don't have to marry my daughter. You're off the hook, eh. Now go before I lose the tiny self-control I possess out of respect for your parents."
I wait for Elena to leave her last class. I had to ask the dean to give me her schedule, inwardly laughing at the purple and yellow, black colors still surrounding both eyes when he saw me in his office.
When I see her walk out of the campus building, I can't help but admire how gorgeous she is with her long dark hair blowing in the wind or how the knitted sweater she is wearing molds to her plump breasts. The way her ass looks in the black leggings she is wearing.
She walks ahead without noticing me leaning against the wall. I'm nervous. There is a sheen of sweat near my tape line. She still won’t take my calls, and the guys said nothing when I left the house last night.
I told them what happened via our group chat. Xavier didn't respond. It's a sign I royally fucked up with Kings. I called my father, and he said he agreed with Aiden for me to stay away from Elena. He sounded disappointed in me. It's nothing new. I'm the one that always fucks up. But this time, I admit. I fucked up bad.
Watching her walk toward the parking lot, I'm at a loss for words, but this is my chance to talk to her.
I catch up to her. "Hey, Elena." She doesn't stop to look at me or give me her smile.
"What you want now, Santiago."
Santiago? What the fuck?
“It’s Santiago now. No Santi?”
"Nope. I'm officially not stalking you. Go celebrate with your girlfriend or something."
"I don't have a girlfriend."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Santiago. Now, leave me alone."
She walks faster, but I play sports year-round, so keeping up is easy. "I want to apologize for being a complete asshole to you all these years and for calling you the S word."
I hate that word now. It turns my stomach. I was an immature, insensitive prick calling her that.
"Oh, you mean stalker."
"Yeah, that."
"Well, you see… it's what people on campus say when they see me. They whisper, 'Stalker alert or 'Here she comes, where's Santiago.'"
"Santi," I correct her.
She scoffs. "From now on, you're Santiago to me. The only thing we have in common is our families and that you are my brother's best friend."
Her words slice me in half. I grip her arm to keep her from leaving. Her eyes land on me, but they're distant. Cold. Indifferent.
"What," she snaps, tearing her arm from my grasp, "don't touch me."
I raise my hands in surrender. "I'm sorry," I say, confused, "I know you don't want to hear this, and you most likely hate me right now, but I miss you."
