Page 21 of The Crush
I cover my face with my free hand as if that will be enough to hide me from this conversation. “Gabe…”
“Oh, calm down. I won’t tell anyone.” He grins when I peek back out at him from between my fingers. “I even took the initiative of fixing your window earlier.”
My hand drops as I stare at my older brother, suddenly giving him far more credit than I ever have before. “You did? Why?”
“Kept waking me up when you snuck in and out in the middle of the night. Will be quiet as a mouse now.” He meets my eyes, an unexpected understanding passing between us.
“So you’re not going to threaten to break his arm or something if he hurts me?”
“You’re a big girl. And I trust your judgment. If you think someone’s worth risking life and limb over…” Gabe shrugs. “Let me know though if he does end up needing his ass kicked.” He reaches over and grabs my hand before giving it a squeeze. “I’ll hire someone.”
I squeeze back, laughing and feeling like a burden has shifted ever so slightly off my shoulders. “Thank you.”
“Sure,” Gabe says, his face scrunching in thought. “You know, now that I think about it…I seem to remember you having it pretty bad for Danny back in the day.”
“Hey, Gabe?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
Seventeen
Daniel
I decide to take my whiskey out to the front porch steps tonight, though it’s still untouched by the time the ice cubes have melted. The cool glass balancing in my palm as I stare up at the star-streaked night sky.
I’d been reckless earlier, risked our families finding out what was going on—more than once, but especially when it came to how I handled things with Aarón. However, what should concern me more is how certain I am that I’d do it again.
“Wondered if I might find you out here.” My dad’s voice intrudes into my thoughts, and I look over my shoulder to see him stepping through the front door to stand behind me. “You all right?” he asks after a while. “You’re not hurt at all?”
“FromAarón?” My tone makes it clear what I think of that possibility. “No, I’m fine.”
“Good.” He continues to linger, making me think he might come sit on the step beside me but he doesn’t. Instead, he simply bends down and hands me a piece of paper. “Been thinking that you might be itching to get out of town for a few days. Get a change of scenery.”
I unfold the bright yellow sheet and read the headline at the top of the flier along with a long list of vendor names I don’t recognize before I glance back up at him. “An expo?”
“It’s up in Austin next weekend,” my dad explains, pointing at the location and date printed at the bottom. “Saw it posted while I was out earlier. Why don’t you go and see if there’s anything worth fussing over?”
“I don’t know,” I say, already trying to hand it back to him. “Why don’t you go up? I can stay here and keep an eye on things.”
My dad shakes his head, putting his hands in his pockets. “I have no desire to spend hours driving there and back. You’re young. You go.”
“I’m not so young anymore,” I argue, even if a good amount of my behavior over the past couple months might suggest otherwise. “Have back pain and everything.”
He laughs, and the unfamiliar sound catches me off guard at first.When was the last time I heard that?
“Mijo, one of these days you’re going to get to my age, and only then will you realize how young you are.” He leans down to clap me solidly on the shoulder before turning to head back inside. “Good night. Don’t stay up too late.”
“Night,” I mutter back, looking again at the paper, until eventually, half an idea forms.
Eighteen
Isabel
Daniel’s window slides open with barely a sound, but he still manages to hear it. He startles before it’s even halfway open, sitting up and looking over while the bedsheets fall into a heap in his lap.
“It’s me,” I whisper to him, watching him climb out of bed to turn on his lamp. He looks adorably out of sorts, hair askew and—I can’t help but appreciate—not wearing a stitch of clothing.
