The exact moment I rise from my hundredth push-up, a loud knock rattles my door.
“Turn the music down!” Valentina shouts. “It’s Sunday, for Pete’s sake.”
“It’s two in the afternoon!” I yell back, standing up to start my stretching routine.
The volume of my music isn’t even that fucking loud. Teenagers, I swear.
Voices and laughter boom on the other side of the door, but I focus on relaxing my muscles and recapturing my breath.Despite my shoulder screaming in protest – yeah, aiming for a hundred push-ups was a bit cocky of me – I feel light. Relieved. Good.
When I exit my bedroom ten minutes later to head downstairs, I don’t expect to come face to face with Alara as she walks out of the bathroom.
She freezes, and so do I.
Suddenly, everything around me blurs, and there’s just Alara’s big eyes staring back at me.
The sound of my rapid pulse is deafening, and when her gaze slides to my bare feet, I feel like my heart is about to lodge inside my throat. Slowly, deliberately, she looks me up and down, halting for a few beats longer at the waistband of my shorts and my protruding v-muscle. Hazel eyes glide up my damp, heaving chest, before finally locking back with mine.
I can’t help it – the risqué way she regards me turns me on.
“Enjoying the view?” My voice is huskier than intended.
There’s a subtle flush rising in her cheeks. She squares her shoulders, tips her chin up, and says, “Not bad, superstar.”
The next breath, she’s flying down the stairs, her fragrance leaving a trace of sweetness in its wake. I have to admit, her faux indifference is both hot and irritating.
Look, I’m not going to lie. Alara is undoubtedly the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. She’s smart, laid back, feisty, and fun to hang out with, but I won’t cross the line. I’ve been appreciating her looks from afar, and she sure has a body that haunts my daydreams, but I can’t act on my attraction to her. I’m leaving in a few weeks, and she’s way too good for me.
Besides, I have to remind myself that, because of my dedication and devotion to snowboarding, I tend to push away romantic relationships. I don’t make time for them, and I don’t allow myself to get attached. My job requires me to travela lot during the season, and I’ve never found long-distance relationships to be appealing.
Showing any interest in pursuing Alara seems pointless.
“¡Dios mío! ¿Qué haces?”Gaby mutters something else in Spanish under her breath as she comes into my line of sight. I realize I’ve been staring at the spot where Alara was just standing. “No, Diego.”
I swat her finger away from my face. “Why the fuck are you talking to me like I’m a dog?”
“Because I see you panting after my best friend like a stray who hasn’t eaten in days,” she hisses.
Half the shit Gaby says doesn’t even make sense. “What? Can I bark, then?”
She slaps my arm, hard enough that it stings. “You’re a pig.”
“What’s next? A bird? A lion?”
Gaby’s eyes narrow in annoyance. “Ya cállate.” She lowers her voice into a whisper. “As much as I’d love to see my brother and best friend together, you can’t. You’re a mess, your oversized head is all over the place, and you’re adamant on leaving as quickly as you can, so stop. You’re going to hurt Alara. She’s a good person who deserves the world. If you need a distraction or to get laid, don’t do it with her. She deserves so much more than a fling, or whatever other idea your pea brain is thinking of. Once you fix yourself and get your shit together? You’ll have my blessing.”
Gaby is right – except for the part where she insulted my brain. Her words puncture a hole in my already-aching chest. One day, I’ll be enough and deserving of love.
I frown and brush past my sister. “I’m not planning on doing anything, so relax. Like you said, I’m leaving, and I don’t have time for a relationship.”
I slam the bathroom door in her face before she can say anything else.
I’m painfully aware that my sole focus has to be my health, my recovery, and my career. I won’t allow myself to be distracted by a mouthy brunette, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking about her while I stand under sprays of cold water.
Alara is at the kitchen table with Gaby when I go downstairs freshly showered. I stop short in the doorway, memories from my high-school days flashing through my head. She’s sitting in the exact same chair she’d sit in when she tutored my sister – which happens to be mine. Back in the day, I barely glanced at her, but, today, I allow myself to marvel at the sight.
She looks comfortable. Like she’s home.
She covers her mouth when she laughs at something Gaby shows her on her phone, then they start whispering together. Gaby turns as red as a tomato, and I know they’re talking about the guy my sister has been seeing. I have no clue who that fucker is, but he better be treating Gaby like the queen she is.
