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"Fuck you, Ramiro."
He laughed and wiped her tears away with his knuckles. "How can you think I'll hate you when you're always calling me names and I never once complained about it?"
She sniffed. "This is different."
"Nothing you can do will make me hate you, Carmen." He pushed back the sweaty tendrils of her hair from her forehead as he spoke. "How dare you doubt me." But his voice was gentle, even smiling.
Carmen hung her head. "Oh god."
If he couldn't convince her with words, there was another way.
Ramiro once again took her by the chin so she would look at him. He looked into her eyes at the devastation on her ugly face.
Then he kissed her.
Her lips were soft, but he knew that because of their whole, plump curve. It took everything Ramiro had to keep the kiss quick, too quick, cruelly sharp, lest she thought - well, what would she think? He stopped himself from licking her just in time, pushing himself away from her with painful reluctance. He sat back, his heart a furious thump in his chest as he struggled from licking his own lips to have a taste of her that remained there.
She stared back at him, cow-eyed. He schooled his expression into an unreadable mask.
"See?" He said blandly. "I clearly don't hate you."
"Not yet."
"Why don't you let me prove you wrong."
"Ramiro, we're friends, right?"
He nodded. "Always." His hand fell on her knee, his eyes on her face. "You'll never lose me, minx."
"I would like to believe that."
"Let me prove it to you."
The saddest blue eyes in the world stared back at him.
"Ramiro, there's no Seismic anymore."
Once again,Carmen punched and pushed at the pillow.
Hours had passed since she killed Ramiro's dreams. Hours, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw the flicker of hope vanishing from his eyes. It was awful, just awful. Carmen cursed Euan, Russell, Lennon, and Lucas for putting her in this position. Then she thought about kicking herself because she could have forced them to break the news to Ramiro themselves. They were friends longer. It was their obligation.
She should learn to take on fewer things. Especially those that smashed the spirit.
God, I hate myself.
Carmen gave up on sleep at three in the morning and left bed. It was futile to search the bathroom for sleeping pills because she flushed her prescription down the toilet when Ramiro moved in. The wine was also kept at a minimum but getting drunk was never an option. Milk! She remembered. Warm milk. Maybe with a dash of cinnamon too. That ought to work.
She tried to be quiet, tinkering in the kitchen. She rinsed the saucepan and then put it on the stove. The milk in the fridge was less than half whole, just about to fill a mug. She poured it into the pan, found the cinnamon, and added it.
She was about to bring the mug to her room when a rough groan came from Ramiro's room. She froze. He was struggling to sleep too. So she turned on her heel and tapped softly on his door. A startled, husky voice answered her. "Carmen?"
"Can I come in?"
Much sheet rustling followed. Just when she thought he must have been talking in his sleep, he called for her to come in.
Ramiro had witched the bedside lamp on and rubbed his eyes from the glare. As he removed his hands and looked up at her from the futon, Carmen realized just how much of her he could see for the first time. The lighting may be limited, but there was no disguising the thinness of her t-shirt, that she was wearing only panties though they were the big, full-style grannies favored. Despite clearly sleepy, alertness reached Ramiro's eyes when he stared at her nipples.
"Uh, I have milk." She said, setting it down on the table. "It's yours if you want it."
