“Nah, girl, love is complicated. It’s easy to get along with someone you don’t care about.”
Fuck is she right. It was easy to fight with Efren when I didn’t care about him. But then again, I think I might have always cared for him. Even the night I killed Esteban, something in me felt safe the moment I saw Efren.
A mariachi band begins to play loud enough to drown out my thoughts and fears. Luca, Lucia, and Ariella are placed center stage, and the mariachi band playsLas Mananitaswhile a six tier cake is rolled out. The guests all sing along, and Luca’s hands fly up to cover his ears. Lucia beams at the cake with anticipation, and Ariella once again looks like a Victoria Secret model. I look at her differently now and can see features in her that are similar to Efren’s. Small expressions like the arch in her brow or the shape of her cupid’s bow.
“Is he wearing a sweater?” Mireya leans in to whisper.
I nod, taking in the man in the wool sweater standing next to Ariella. He’s tall and handsome, and together they look like a modern day power couple. The kind that makes money from just existing as beautiful people. Like the Beckhams, who exist purely to remind the rest of the world they can never reach that level of attractiveness. Still though, I catch the look in Ariella’s eyes, and it’s not one of love.
And I know love. I love love.
Every book I read—romance.
Every movie that captures me—romance.
Every time I people watch or daydream, I’m romanticizing everything. I know the look of a woman in love when I see it. I know because I’ve seen it in myself the last few months. The mixed feelings that were developing inside me felt too big to make sense of. I wanted to figure out my past, but I also didn’t want to live in a future where Efren didn’t exist.I love him.Every minute not in his presence feels like I’m not living.
And Ariella doesnotlook at Preston like that. Even as Iwatch them dance, there’s no chemistry, and my heart breaks for her. I think back at the images the paparazzi captured of her the night her bodyguard came for her and remember how she looked at him. That look held everything I needed to know about the rumors, and I wish I had seen that before accusing her of wanting something with Efren.
I drop my selfish pride and send the message to Efren.
Alma
Can we stop fighting? I miss you.
I throw my phone back into my bag like a coward. The thought of him rejecting me is too much. Instead, I focus on the party, spending the next two hours eating cake, dancing, and gossiping with my friends. Before Thalia can trick me into taking another shot, I slip down the hall toward the guest bathroom.
Exiting, I pull the door open and nearly collide with Ariella.
“Ari!” I gasp.
“Excuse me,” she snaps, already pushing past me into the house.
“Wait.” I follow her. “Can we talk?”
She stops.
Just stops.
I open my mouth, and suddenly my back slams into the wall. The impact rattles my teeth. I barely have time to suck in a breath before a woman is there, forearm pressed hard across my chest, her face inches from mine.
“Leave my friend the fuck alone,” she hisses.
Her eyes are wild. Protective. Not listening.
“I—I just wanted to talk to her,” I say, my voice catching as I shrink back against the plaster, every nerve screaming at how close she is.
The times I’ve seen Genesis Fernandez, she’s been quiet. Cool, calm, and collected wouldn’t be in my vocabulary now.
“You and your ugly little friend want to call her prissy? She’s not prissy. She’s always,always,putting everyone before herself. So, think about that the next time you talk shit so publicly about her.”
“Gen—let’s go,” Ari pleads, grabbing her arm.
Genesis doesn’t even look at her. She jerks free and, in one smooth motion, pulls a switchblade from her elegant updo. The metal snaps open with a sharp click that silences the room. The crowd tightens around us. Heat presses in from all sides.
The blade points straight at my chest.
“Next time you fuck with my friend,” she says softly, almost gleeful, “it’ll be the last.”
