“I like to spank the pomegranate,” he said with a smirk.
Alma pointed the knife in his direction. “Ew, come on, Rafa, this is scientific, okay? Grace is trying to learn something new.”
Raf took one half of the pomegranate into his palm. “Yes, youwouldturn it into a science experiment.”
“Honestly, neither of you need to be present right now. I was hoping to just experiment with my pomegranate-eating in private.” Grace had never been so mortified about eating a piece of fruit, but both of the Ferrer-Martíns were staring at her expectantly.
“Fine,” she said, resigned. “At least let me scoop out the insides myself to practice.”
She took the first half from Raf and spanked the pomegranate—much to Rafael’s delight—before resorting to scraping the seeds into a bowl of water. Then she dumped the seeds into a strainer and gave them a rinse. Honestly, it was a lot of work for a fruit. A banana she could get behind. Oranges were reasonable. You could bite into an apple on the go, no problem, but the pomegranate made you work for it.
“Careful of the juice,” Alma warned. “It will stain your clothes to hell.”
“YouTube said that, too.”
“YouTube is very thorough on this topic, apparently.” Raf laughed.
Grace squeezed one pomegranate seed between her fingers, just to see the juice inside. It was quite a lot for one little seed, actually. She licked her fingers, enjoying the taste. Alma grabbed a spoon from a drawer and handed it over to her, so she could scoop up more from the bowl.
Grace glanced at the siblings, who were still eyeing her with anticipation. “You guys are so weird.” She should have known to be more careful about her internet history when Alma was around. They shared everything, and of course Alma would delight in Grace’s foray to new fruit, clinging for any chance of distraction. Grace sighed and took a bite.
It was good, though rather anticlimactic, honestly. She felt like she needed to put on some kind of show, though, so she nodded with a smile and an “mmm” vibrating from her lips. She supposed this gave Raf a good excuse to stare at her mouth at least, and that’s what he was doing, watching her lick her lips with a hunger in his eyes that sent goosebumps up her arms. No wonder Alma thought she was in trouble.
“Can I eat the rest of this in peace, or are the two of you going to stare at me the whole time?”
Rafael looked sheepish.
Alma waved a hand. “What other foods have you never had? I like this game! What about a cherimoya?”
Grace frowned. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Oh good,” Alma said, clearly delighted. “That’s next on the list. We can tell you how to eat it, Gracie. You won’t even need to do internet research beforehand.”
“There’s a good reason I looked up how to eat this on the internet, rather than asking you about it.”
Alma shook her head. “I’m proud to be a part of your cultural education.”
Grace wiped her hands on a towel. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, but I think that’s enough for today.”
Alma let out a low “booooo” before turning to Rafael. “You’re awfully quiet.”
He rubbed a hand through his hair. “I’m just taking it all in, just like I always do when the two of you start up your shenanigans.”
Grace bit back a smile. He’d witnessed plenty of their shenanigans and had never wanted to go along with them. Until now.
“I don’t think this can be called a shenanigan,” Alma said. “This is tamer than tame. We are literally watching Grace eat fruit.”
“This is our wild weekend now.” Grace shrugged. She remembered singing at the top of her lungs in late-night taxis, dancing with strangers on tables, cartwheels in the park, trays full of tequila shots. She remembered shoving Raf’s arm and telling him to lighten up, forever hoping he would smile at her just once like he did when she’d spanked the pomegranate.
“And I can hardly keep up,” Raf said. “Cherimoyas next? You’re out of control.”
Grace grinned up at him. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it, old man.”
Rafael gasped playfully. “You take that back.”
Back in Barcelona, she’d teased him about being older than them. Not just because he was actually a few years older, but because he always had his arms crossed and a frown on his face in an attempt to discourage them from whatever they were about to do.
“Is that a gray hair?” Grace asked, tugging at one of his perfect dark locks.
