Page 66 of Pride High 2: Orange
Silvia felt herself begin to panic. She didn’t talk about such things. Ever. She didn’t even let herself think the words! Her self-imposed rules had kept her family safe. She had always followed them. But sometimes it felt like too much of a burden to bear on her own, so despite her best judgement, Silvia nodded.
Omar continued to stare. “They’re illegal aliens?”
“No,” she said, hating how inhuman that term made them sound. “They’re my parents.”
“Yeah, of course.” Omar was disturbingly quiet, his head bowed in thought, until he finally looked up again. “I guess that’s why you never wanted me to meet them, huh?”
“I’m very protective of my parents,” Silvia said. Her heart was pounding and her mouth was dry, but she forced herself to continue, needing him to understand. “I have to be. That’s why I never gave you my phone number. I was worried you’d get suspicious when calling because their English isn’t great. People treat them different when they realize that. I’ve seen it my entire life. Which isn’t fair because my parents are honest. They work hard and don’t expect a handout. Just like your grandparents, they came here for a better life. They simply weren’t as lucky with how they got here.”
“Forget the stupid paperwork,” Omar said with a growl of conviction. “Your parents are true Americans! Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, because that’s what this whole damn country is about. Weallcame here seeking a better life. The white folks who sailed over on the Mayflower? They sure as hell didn’t have permission from the people who lived here already! So if anyone wants to play that game, the pilgrims were illegal aliens too. Right?”
“That’s true!” Silvia said in surprise. She’d never thought of it that way. “It’s like breaking into someone else’s house and telling the next burglars who come along that they don’t belong there.”
“It’s fucking ridiculous,” Omar said. Then he raised an eyebrow. “And good enough to be a sketch. We should film it! We’ll get Anthony to play the—”
“No,” Silvia said with a surge of panic. “You can’t tell anyone. Please. No matter how much you trust them. There’s too much on the line.”
Omar studied her a moment, mirroring her concern. “Were you born here?”
Silva nodded. “That makes me a legal citizen. Hugo too. But where would we be without our parents? Have you ever thought about that? What it would really mean if your mom and dad died in an accident or something awful?"
Omar shook his head. “You wouldn’t be alone. And you’re not.” He walked over to take her hands. “If anything ever happens to your folks, I’ll be there for you.” He pulled Silvia to her feet and wrapped her in a hug. “We’ll figure it out together. I promise.”
Silvia felt a rush of emotion for him. More than ever before. And she thought she understood why. The secret was part of her. She kept it deep down, hidden behind barriers, intimately close to her heart. A place that Omar had failed to reach until now. She had only needed to open the floodgates enough to let feelings flow between them.
“I’ll help you protect them,” Omar said as he released her. “I’d do anything for you.”
“Thanks,” she managed.
He kissed her on the forehead before walking to his closet. “Let me grab my jacket and we’ll go out to eat somewhere nice. Then we’ll find awesome presents that show our parents how much we love them. On a budget. So maybe we shouldn’t eat somewheretoonice. But I kind of like the food court at the mall. Don’t you?” He reappeared from the closet, wearing a black leather jacket with silver buttons and zippers. His dark eyes were inquisitive, an endearing smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. She wanted to kiss him there. And do more.
Mindy wouldn’t hesitate. She would walk over to his bedroom door, like Silvia was doing now, and lock it. Her pulse was racing as she turned around and stripped off her sweater.
“What are you doing?” Omar asked.
“Watch and find out,” Silvia replied. She arched her back to unfasten her bra and let it tumble to the floor.
Omar’s eyes moved down to her breasts and remained locked there. “Oh wow,” he breathed.
“Your turn,” Silvia said.
“Huh? Oh! Yeah!” Omar was out of his jacket and the layers beneath in two seconds flat. Then he put his hands on the waistband of his jeans. “All of it?” he asked.
Silvia smiled and shook her head. She could already tell that he was hard. “I don’t want to go all the way,” she said. “I just want to get a little closer.”
“Sounds good to me,” Omar said as he took a step forward.
She shook her head again and walked toward him, pushing on his bare chest until the back of his legs hit the bed. His rump hit the mattress, followed by his back as she continued to push. Silvia climbed on top of him, straddling his hips as she settled down. Omar was staring up at her in rapt admiration, making her feel like a goddess. She reached for his hands, placing them where she knew he wanted them to go, and felt a shiver of pleasure as his thumbs brushed against her nipples. Oh yes, the floodgates were open now, and things were about to get wet!
* * * * *
Ricky kept biting his lower lip in an effort not to smile. He couldn’t help it because Diego Gomez wasin his bed. The big lug’s back was against the headboard, but he still managed to fill most of the mattress. His brawny arms and rounded shoulders were exposed, since he’d been wearing a sleeveless shirt beneath the leather jacket that was currently crumpled up on the floor next to his Doc Martens. Ricky glanced at these things before his attention returned to Diego. His legs were splayed, ending in massive socked feet. Ricky wanted to know his shoe size and a hundred other details, but lately he tried to limit his questions, so as not to annoy him. And at the moment, Diego was already scowling at the script in his hand.
“I lost my place again,” he grumbled.
From a corner of the mattress where he sat cross-legged, Ricky looked down at the copy he held and read one of Belle’s lines aloud to get him back on track. “‘I think I could love you like this, even if we never broke the spell.’”
“‘If your love for me was true, this form would be fair again,’” Diego recited before shaking his head and rephrasing the line. “‘If you really love me, then why do I still look like a mangy dog that needs a damn groomer?’” He looked up. “That’s way better, right?”
