“Okay, I think I’m ready.” I stand up and smooth out my long velvet skirt before doing a little pose. “What do you think?”
“You look beautiful.” She grins at me. “Julian’s going to love it.”
“You’re not funny.” I grab my purse before leaving my bedroom. “Don’t wait up.”
“Are you seeing him after your date?” she calls from my bedroom as I reach the hallway. “Is that why I shouldn’t wait up?”
“Goodbye!”
Andrew answers the door after my knock, effectively ruining the good mood I had going from my date with Anerie. We had a great time but agreed we saw each other more as friends than potential romantic partners. The funny thing is if she’d said that to me a few months ago, it would’ve soured my whole week. I never understood what that meant, if it was a lack of physical attraction they felt or some elusive spark or vibe that was missing, and part of me still doesn’t quite get it. But instead of fixating on what she meant, I was relieved as soon as she told me.
“You’re very purple tonight,” he says, opening the door wider so I can come in. “Julian’s in his room.”
“Thanks.” I cross my arms over my chest, cringing when my brother plops down on the couch. Last weekend, I came on Julian’s tongue on that couch. The memory alone heats up the place a good five or ten degrees, but I fear I’m about to burst into flames. “Um, are you in for the night?”
“Yup,” he says, eyes trained on the TV.
“I thought you spent most nights with Kayla,” I say, if only to avoid thinking about where he’s sitting. “Are you two still fighting?”
“Be careful, Leti. You almost sound like you care.” I roll my eyes as Julian emerges from his bedroom.
“Hey.” His arms wrap around me, and I nearly sink into him until Andrew clears his throat, and we jump apart. “Wow, you look great in violet.”
“Thank you.” My cheeks glow with the praise. “I made sure my drink matched the outfit too.”
“The Taylor Swift bar crawl, right? Let me guess—you got the lavender haze.”
“Close, it was wonderstruck,” I tell him. “After the perfume. Ibegged my parents for an entire year to get a bottle for my twelfth birthday, but they didn’t bite.”
“Isn’t that the year you flunked your Spanish test?” Andrew chimes in.
I stare daggers at the side of his face because he’s too chickenshit to face me. He knows good and well it is because our entire family called me “la gringa” and teased me for weeks afterward. “Maybe if you’d bothered to study or ask our parents for help, they would’ve bought you the perfume. We’re Mexican. There’s no reason you should’ve failed.”
“Come on, we all know the Spanish we hear at home isn’t the same as the classes we took in high school,” Julian says before turning back to me. “I’m a no sabo kid too. I came out with a C one year and got the lecture of a lifetime from my dad.”
“It’s her fault for not picking up on it when she was younger,” Andrew goes on. “Elena and I are fluent.”
I narrow my eyes at him, because I know for a fact he still struggles with the language. His accent is choppy on a good day, and I’ve spotted the Duolingo app on his phone on more than one occasion. Before I can call him out on it, though, Julian’s expression turns diabolical on his best friend.
“Man, I wouldn’t sit there if I were you.” He wraps an arm around my waist and completely ignores the panic in my eyes. “We got up to some pretty dirty business the other day on the exact cushion you’re occupying. Hard to tell whose come you’re sitting on right now.”
“Ew, what thefuck?!” He jumps off the couch and makes a show of wiping down his clothes with a napkin. “Argh, forget this. I’m calling Kayla.”
“Good luck with that,” Julian says as he steers us into his bedroom.
Once the door is shut, I slap his shoulder.
“Ow!”
“Why thehelldid youdothat?” I try to slap at him a second time but he catches my wrist and then the other when I try again. My anger was only half-hearted at best, but it melts away completely when he brings my knuckles to his lips.
“He deserved it.” He takes turns kissing the tops of both hands. “Maybe it’ll inspire him to do some cleaning if Kayla turns him down again. He’s been spending a lot of nights here. It’s kind of freaky.”
“Has it really been that bad?” I ask, guilt niggling in the pit of my stomach. Almost immediately as it comes, I shake myself out of it. What reason do I have to feel guilty for Andrew being an ass to his girlfriend? He chose to tackle Julian on his own. He got himself into his own mess—he can clean it up alone.
“I’m a little worried,” Julian admits. “And I think there’s more to it than the fight last weekend, despite what he’s told me.”
“He mentioned that to me too,” I say. “If not the fight, what do you think she’s mad at him for?”
