I nod once. That’s all I can manage. But I think she gets it. I think she knows. Because she smiles softly, turns her attention back to the TV, and pops another chip into her mouth.
We’ve been watching episodes ofLaw & Orderfor the last few hours. My eyes are growing heavy. I turn my head, and thereshe is—Analyse, curled up beside me, fast asleep. Her legs are tucked beneath her, one arm draped loosely over her stomach, the throw blanket rising and falling with each steady breath. A curl has slipped across her cheek, soft and untamed.
I shift slowly, careful not to wake her, and just sit there, watching her in the dim light of the TV flickering across her skin. I stare at her for a beat too long. She’s devastatingly beautiful. Easy, Mateo. Remember that this is all a lie. This is all fake. A performance. We aren’t really dating. She’s here for me as a friend. Just that. Nothing more.
I tear my gaze away and sink back into the cushions, scrubbing a hand down my face. But the warmth of her beside me, the way her hand brushed mine earlier, the echo of her voice saying I’ll always be here—it clings to me.
I sigh heavily, lean my head back against the couch, eyes on the ceiling, trying to will myself to sleep. It doesn’t work.
My body’s still, but my mind won’t quiet. It’s too loud up there—too many thoughts jostling for space.
What am I doing? Why did I ask her to come? Why did she say yes?
The answer is obvious. It’s because she’s Analyse. This is who she is. She shows up for the people she cares about. I just didn’t realize I was one of those people. Sure, I’ve been in her orbit for years. I spend as much time as I can with Maya. That kid holds my heart, probably more than either of them know.
But somehow along the way, I missed it—how Analyse is also there. She’s in my heart. In my world. Taking up space.
I quickly rid my head of those thoughts. We said we were pretending. That this was just a game. A way to keep Nico away from her. A harmless lie.
I glance at her again. She’s curled in closer now, her arm brushing mine. A hundred different thoughts push up at once. I shoot eachof them down.
I stay quiet. I lie here. Wide awake. And I let her sleep beside me like nothing in the world could possibly go wrong.
Chapter Thirteen
ANALYSE
I’m sitting in the teacher’s lounge enjoying a much needed break—legs crossed, coffee in one hand, and half a donut in the other.
A couple of the other teachers walk in, chatting quietly between themselves. They settle at a table behind me, their voices low at first, the sound of crinkling wrappers and chair legs scraping tile filling the quiet.
I don’t mean to listen. I swear, I really don’t. But sometimes these bochinchera ears win the battle against the mature woman inside of me. I tear off another bite of donut, chewing slowly, pretending I’m not leaning back in my seat in their direction. I blame my mother for having me watch all those telenovelas with her—now look at me, living for the drama.
“Did you see him the other day?” one of the teachers says.
“No!” another scream-whispers. “He was here?”
“Yes! He was parked right out front. It looked like he brought her lunch.”
Shit. My eye twitches. My coffee goes down the wrong pipe. I cough once, quietly…at least I hope I was quiet, and I take another bite of my donut to buy time while my brain short-circuits. Dammit. Please don’t let them be talking about me. There has to be another nice guy who brought a teacher lunch in our school, right? Right??
“Wow,” one of the teachers says, voice lowered. “I’m so confused. I thought he and Letty were a thing? That’s what she said.”
Another lets out a sharp breath. “I know. He’s obviously going behind her back.”
A third voice jumps in, tone dismissive. “It honestly doesn’t surprise me. Mateo doesn’t scream boyfriend material.”
The second one snorts. “No, he screams get in my bed material.”
Then the first one sighs. “Ugh. Poor Letty. She’s going to be heartbroken when she finds out.”
I put the rest of my donut down. I’ve officially lost my appetite. I’m equal parts furious and sick to my stomach. First of all, how dare they talk about Mateo like that?
They don’t even know him. Not the real him. They only know what they think they see. The jawline, the arms, the sexy-as-hell thigh tattoo. Look, I get it. He’s hot. Like…infuriatingly hot. But that’s not him. That’s now who he is as a person.
They haven’t seen the way he crouches to talk to Maya like she’s the most important person in the room. Or how he will dress up in any princess costume if that’s what makes her happy, because her happiness means the world to him.
They haven’t seen how he shows up for every single one of us. How he showed up for Seb during his heartbreak, or Mariana in her time of grief, or me. How he’s shown up for me since the day Maya was born, helped me every chance he could, even agreed to be my fake boyfriend to get my exoff my back.
