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JOÃO
“You’re going to stir the pot?” I asked Ana.
She pushed a chair across the kitchen floor and toward the stove, hopped up onto it next to me, and snatched the spoon from my hand, stirring the chocolate inside the pot around and around and around.
I watched her intently, making sure she didn’t burn herself on the gas flames coming from the burner, and crossed my arms over chest.
Ana noticed me staring and shoved me back with her free hand. “I know how to make them, João. Let me do it by myself, or I’m going to tell your girlfriend that you’re a loser. Oh, wait, she already knows.”
“Actually, she thinks you’re a stinker,” I said, poking Ana in the side.
She doubled over and giggled, continuing to stir the pot of chocolate. I smiled in response, cherishing every moment that I had with her because I didn’t know when or if I’d have enough medicine to keep her alive forever. Hell, I didn’t even know if I would have enough medicine for the next year.
Someone knocked on the front door, and Ana looked out the window, brown eyes growing wide. “Your girlfriend is here!” she cheered, jumping off the chair and running to the door with the chocolate-covered spoon in her hand.
Before she could dirty the house with it, I snatched it from her hand and placed it back in the pot, twirling the chocolate around so the brigadeiros would come out like they should and not like the time Kai had helped Ana make them.
Damn, I didn’t hear the end of that from Ana. We couldn’t even form them into balls of chocolate; they had flattened every time.
“João!” Ana shouted, walking back into the kitchen with Imani’s hand in hers. “Your girlfriend is here!”
I glanced over my shoulder at Imani and smirked. “You liked that video so much last night that you needed to pay me a visit?”
Imani glared at me and covered Ana’s ears. “Can you not?!”
Ana ran back over to me and climbed back onto the chair, grabbing the spoon from me and stirring again.
I stepped back toward Imani. “What are you doing here, then? You don’t usually show up at my house for no reason at all.”
“I wanted to see you and Ana.”
I tensed and unintentionally turned my stare into a glare. “No, you didn’t,” I snapped before I could stop myself.
But all my life, I had been conditioned to think that all the rich assholes in this town only came around when they wanted or needed something.
They never came around just because.
“Actually, I didn’t come for you,” Imani said, playfully shoving my shoulder. “I only came to see Ana because Ana isn’t mean to me. Right, Ana?”
Ana sassily looked over her shoulder and smirked. “Yeah, that’s right.”
Imani walked closer to her. “Ooh, you’re making brigadeiros? Yummy!”
When she turned her back toward me, I let myself smile at Imani, and—for a split second—I had the urge to wrap my arms around them both and pull them closer. But I stopped myself because I never did shit like that, and I never felt this way for anyone.
I vowed that I never ever would.
The front door opened again, and Mom hurried into the room with her heels in her hand and tears in her eyes. When she saw us, she quickly looked away and rushed down the hallway, muttering about needing a moment.
My stomach twisted into knots. I glanced over at Imani, who furrowed her brows at me pitifully and gestured toward the hallway that Mom had disappeared down a couple moments ago.
“Go. I’ll watch Ana.” She turned back toward Ana. “We’re gonna make the best brigadeiros ever, right, Ana?”
Ana grinned up at her.
After grimacing at Imani, I hurried down the hall toward Mom’s room. I knocked twice, but she told me to go away, so I opened the door, stepped into the room, and shut it behind me. Mom sat at the edge of her bed with her back turned to me and her head in her hands.
“What happened?” I asked tensely.
