“Is everyone decent in here?” Carlos asks, covering his eyes.
Jimmy smacks him on the back. “Don’t be disgusting. What on earth would a brother and sister be doing?”
“Exchanging flowers, obviously,” Blade says.
“Gentlemen.” I clear my throat and put some distance between me and Nat. “I haven’t plated the tamales yet, so you get to choose them yourselves. Blade, since you’re the youngest, you go first.”
“I’m nineteen,” Blade grumbles, as if the fact that he is barely an adult should mean something to me. He selects his tamales first, grabs a paper plate and plunks into a chair, managing to dismantle his claimed ‘adulthood’ by sulking.
“My ma makes the best tamales,” Carlos boasts as he goes to the plastic bag to select his tamales next. “Prepare to have your minds blown.”
“I’m ready,” Jimmy declares, walking to the plastic bag with his plate in hand. He’s grinning so hard that I can see his gold canine.
I reach for a plate next, but Nat scoops it from me. “I’ll do it.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to.”
“I want to,” he says with a wink.
Butterflies take off in my stomach and I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from grinning like a hyena.
Carlos snickers and whispers, “Brother and sister, my backside.”
Jimmy whispers back. “I can see now that I was lied to.”
I pretend not to hear them as my ears burn.
“Which side of these is breast and which is leg and thigh?” Nat asks, pointing at the bag of tamales wrapped in banana leaves.
“Left side is leg and thigh.”
“Great.” Nat drags out two tamales from the left side and hands one of the plates over to me with a big smile. “You like drumsticks, right, Riles?”
I do not.
I hate drumsticks with a passion and I have been known to refuse to eat a meal if a chicken leg is anywhere near me.
“I remember you stealing both drumsticks from Chris when we ordered fried chicken.”
“Thanks.” I force a smile and accept the plate, making my way to my desk.
It’s fine. I like tamales on its own without the meat anyway. I’ll just pick around it.
Nat beams as he pulls out a chair right next to the desk and sets his tamales and fork down beside it. Then he suddenly launches up. “Oh, drinks. Where are they?”
“There’s soda in the fridge.” Jimmy points to the mini-fridge with his fork while looking at Nat as if he’s sprung two heads.
“You want soda, Riles?” Nat asks me.
Everyone stares at us.
Covering my face slightly, I mumble, “I’ll drink water.”
“I’ll grab you a cup.”
“It’s okay. I still have in my tumbler.”
“Oh, that reminds me. Did you drink the ginger-honey tea?”
