“That’s because you need to take baby steps. Start with a little and go up.”
As we slowly make our way through the line, she explains the various dishes and makes me repeat after her until my pronunciation is acceptable. When the time comes to order, she takes charge and asks for waymore than I anticipated. I recognize the dish she orders for me and step forward to say, “With a very small amount of chili, please.”
When Andrea looks up at me with something that resembles pride and appreciation, I bend closer and say, “We wouldn’t want your abuela to dislike me, would we?”
She shakes her head, still grinning, and returns to our order. She pays before I can offer and hands me a plastic tray with nachos and our sodas. I carry it to one of the folding tables, and we sit down facing each other.
“You said it’s a popular drink?” I ask, picking up my bottle.
“Yes. Jarritos istheMexican soda. We always had some at home, and I used to sneak in the pantry to steal bottles.”
I try mine, which is lime-flavored, and focus on the taste. “I’m not into sodas, but this is good.”
“I know, right?”
She eats a tortilla chip and sits back in her wobbly chair. “What do you want to talk about this time?” I ask, doing the same.
She considers her options thoroughly. “Where did you graduate from?”
I fold my arms across my chest, trying to think of where to start. “My father always expected me to take over the company, so he sent me to Harvard Business School for their MBA program. I was still fourteen at the time, so I moved in with Lucy—who was doing her medical studies there. I had to do a year of undergraduate courses before I could get to the MBA, which was a bore, but I didn’t have a choice. I was allowed to specialize in applied mathematics, so I didn’t entirely hate my time there. And I quickly used everything I was learning to make my own money to pay for the degrees I genuinely wanted. As soon as I turned eighteen, I moved to Stanford and enrolled in their computer science PhD, with a focus on machine learning and artificial intelligence, as well as cybersecurity. Then, three years later, I graduated and began working at Avoss.”
“You got a PhD in three years?”
“Yeah, I was cutting myself some slack.”
“You arrogant shithead,” she mutters with a grin. Someone calls out her name from the food truck, so she quickly heads there and returns with another tray.
The conversation turns sparse as we eat. We have to get back to Kelex before the end of our break, or else people might suspect something is going on. But she still asks about my time at Avoss and what it was like being a child prodigy in schools known for having the brightest students in the country.
“It wasn’t easy, especially since I no longer had Kevin to help. He went on to study business at Yale. Then, once he caught up, we opened Kelex together.”
“And look at you now…”
“I did quite well for myself, yes.”
There’s nothing but chewing for a moment, and I’ve eaten half of my burrito when she asks, “So, do you like it?”
I can tell just how much she needs me to say yes—as if my seal of approval is meaningful for some reason.
“I do,” I answer with honesty. “This level of spice is very manageable.”
“Yeah, there’s barely any in there. You should try adding a couple drops of this,” she suggests, pushing forward a small bottle of hot sauce. She’s been dousing her burrito with it the whole time, so I decide to give it a try. It can’t be that bad, can it?
“Just a drop,” she instructs.
I follow the command and bite over the spot. It starts off fine, but the more I chew, the hotter it gets. Eventually, I force myself to swallow, feeling as though a fire has started in my mouth. “Holy fuck,” I grunt, coughing.
“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”
“How the fuck do you do it?!” I wonder, picking up what’s left of my Jarritos and downing it.
“It was just a drop, Lex.”
The heat won’t subside, so I focus on not letting my eyes fill up with tears. She’d give me shit for it, I’m sure. Eventually, she decides to do something about it and comes around the table. She frames my face with her hands and makes me look at her, lowering to be on my level. “The more you think about it, the more it burns,” she explains. “So, try to think about something else, baby.”
I don’t know if she did it intentionally or if it slipped out. But her calling mebabyagain has my mind in such a frenzy that I can’t think of the chili anymore. Everything stills, and I get lost in her eyes and their long lashes, the freckles dusting her cheekbones, the plumpness of her lips… Has a woman ever been this beautiful? Has there ever been a more perfect face than hers? I don’t think so. There’s no way.
My gaze is fixed on her lips, which I swear are even redder and plumper than usual, inviting me to kiss them. I’m about to let the impulse win when I remember I’m not supposed to. Not until she asks. She’s in charge.
