“I’m impressed by the fact you didn’t burn this.” I point at the guacamole.
He gives me a casual look. “Hard to burn something when it’s not supposed to be cooked in the first place.”
“With your abilities in the kitchen, I wouldn’t be surprised if you—”
“God, you’re so mean to me.” He puts a hand over his heart, but the amusement shining in his eyes indicates he loves sparring with me.
His mom chuckles, but she starts getting everything ready and pays no further attention to us.
I’m completely hypnotized by Diego anyway. By the way his eyes darken when he glances at my mouth. His chest rising and falling as his feet lock around my ankle under the table. The tip of his tongue wetting his lips when we hold eye contact. The little smirk making itself known.
It’s been twenty-four hours since our heated moment in the storage room at Rock Snow. And there hasn’t been a moment where I haven’t replayed the way he made me feel. How he kissed me breathless. How he managed to liquify me. Sometimes, I feel like pinching myself, thinking it’s just a fever dream. But when he looks at me like this? Like he wants to devour me? I know it was very much real, and this is just the beginning of my teenage dreams come true.
There’s still a throbbing pang in my chest, though. When he mentioned not wanting to pursue anything romantic, that he just wanted sex, I felt my heart crumble to pieces. I still don’tknow how I managed to find a sliver of strength to accept his deal.
But I have Diego, and it’s all that matters.
I’d rather have him like this, even if it’s just for a few weeks, than not have him at all. With me, he’s unguarded. Carefree. Relaxed. I’m honored to have been able to peel off the layers surrounding him. So I’ve accepted that having bits of him is all I’m allowed to have.
If you’d told me ten years ago that I’d be able to kiss him, touch him, sneak around with him, I wouldn’t have believed you. But here we are.
He reaches for a tortilla chip and dips it into his concoction, winking as I blatantly check him out.
I am desperate to feel his hands on me. Feel him putting his mark on every inch of my skin.
“How was PT today?” his mom asks, opening the fridge.
“Fine.” He doesn’t let my foot go. “I’m not sure, but I think I’ll be able to ride soon.”
I tilt my head to the side. I don’t ever ask him about the way he’s physically feeling, afraid to push his buttons too far, but if he thinks I don’t notice how he winces every time he makes too much effort at the resort, or asks to be on front desk duty at Rock Snow so that he can make minimal movements, he’s a total idiot. I know he’s still hurting, and I fear that his pride will kill him.
I wonder how truthful he’s being with his physiotherapist. Does he lie in hope of getting out of here early?
I’m conflicted – should I confront him about this?
“Really?” Mrs Ramirez asks, a hopeful edge to her voice. It must upset her to see her son look so sad. “Did Dr Ellis tell you when you’ll be able to go back to Utah?”
Diego cranes his neck to look at his mom. “Nope. No doubt it’ll be at the end of the month, though. I’m feeling confident and better.”
She smiles down at him. “That’s good to hear.”
The way my stomach twists is concerning. Every time he mentions leaving, every time he reminds me that he’s only here temporarily, it makes my heart bleed.
I wish I could be someone to him. Someone worth loving, or perhaps worth considering staying in Blue Ridge Springs for, for the sake of his recovery. This is immensely selfish of me, but I hope he stays until the end of January as planned. So far, he’s been focused on leaving before New Year’s. I just want him to stay a little bit longer.
And not just for me – for his mom and sisters, and Jordan too. I don’t think Diego realizes how happy his loved ones are to have him back. I don’t think he understands how much he’s wanted and adored.
Valentina enters the kitchen, and Diego untangles our feet. Mrs Ramirez asks Val to help with making dinner, then Diego stands up.
“I think I hear my phone ringing,” he says, after clearing his throat in the most non-discreet way.
Once he’s standing in the doorway, he lightly nudges his chin toward the staircase. I get the memo quickly, butterflies taking flight in my stomach. He rushes upstairs, and I wait a minute, two, before pushing my chair back.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Loretta and Valentina.
If either of them notices how obvious Diego and I are, they have the decency to stay quiet. Still, I don’t miss Mrs Ramirez’s cheeky grin as I exit the kitchen.
Gaby is still showering, so when I slip into Diego’s bedroom, I’m relieved to hear the water running. I don’t have time to look around or ask anything before Diego pushes me against the wall, closes the door behind us with a soft click, and slants his mouth down on mine.
