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“Where’s your house?” he asked. “Should I walk with you to make sure you don’t skip town?”
“The idea of skipping town is a good one, but I want to pass this class. I’ll be at your place in fifteen minutes.”
He hesitated, but eventually nodded. “I’ll be on the back patio, if you want to walk on the beach instead of the road.”
My heart constricted. It seemed like a thoughtful idea, but that didn’t line up with what I knew of Diego.
He waved goodbye and walked down the beach, and I had to wonder... How well did I really know my enemy?
Twenty
Diego
I could seeApril walking back up the beach toward my family’s house. She had on shorts and a loose shirt that whipped around her curves in the wind. This far away, she couldn’t see me well enough to tell I was staring. So I stared, and I asked myself,what was it about this girl who caught my eye and demanded my attention?
Why was it so hard to look away? I had never been this shallow in my life.
She came closer, and I got up from the patio table to straighten the cushions, ready my book, act like I hadn’t been staring at the way her hips swayed as she walked.
Sand swished under her feet as she got near, and her breaths punctuated the waves. “Let’s get this over with,” she huffed, pulling a string bag from her back.
“Great attitude,” I replied, trying not to smile.
Ignoring me, she set her canvas bag on the glass tabletop and loosed the drawstring. She pulled out our book and a notebook with a pen. Then she pulled out a chair and settled into the seat.
A breeze kicked up strands of hair from her ponytail, swirling them around her face. The contrast of the dark brown locks against her fair skin was stunning.
She looked up from her notebook, catching me staring, and gave me an annoyed look like I was moving way too slowly.
I got into my own chair, opening my notebook to my notes on the assignment. “We’re supposed to practice a conversation with a patient who is telling us about their late spouse.”
A shadow crossed April’s face, just as visible as her arched eyebrows or her full pink lips. “Why is she having us do this?” she murmured, almost to herself.
Trying—and failing—to understand her expression, I looked back at my notes. “One of us has to role-play the patient and the other has to role-play the CNA.”
“I’ll be the patient,” she offered.
“Cool.” I was about to ask her if she just wanted to improv the conversation, but the back patio door slid open, and my mom came out, holding a tray of food. Mateo came out behind her with a sloshing pitcher of juice and two cups.
Mom smiled at us. “Can’t have a study session without snacks.”
April’s lips parted. She seemed... surprised.
I helped Mateo get the pitcher on the table without dumping it in April’s lap, and Mom put the small charcuterie board between us. She’d even used olives to spell CNA between all the fruit, meat, cheese, and crackers.
“Thanks,” I said, getting up to kiss her cheek.
She put her arm around my waist. “You need brain food to do well in school.” Mom smiled at April. “Hi there. I’m Diego’s mom. Everyone calls me Mama De.”
April gave my mom the most genuine smile I’d ever seen her wear. “This is amazing, really.”
And a compliment?
Why was I jealous of my mom?
And why was my heart picking up speed?
“Oh, honey, it’s no big deal,” Mom said. “I want all of Diego’s friends to feel welcome here.”
