Grey lied and told Alma we were going to watch a movie at the theater when she saw us leaving the house. He said his grandmother wouldn’t allow them to go the festival. According to him, she doesn’t trust the lot of them to go by themselves because of the adult activities that occur there. Hearing that, I grew very wary of going myself, but the others persuaded me to go, saying I was nineteen and should live a little. Plus, they threatened to tell Grey I was still utterly in love with him and wanted to marry him and have his babies. It’s safe to say I claimed my seat in the back as quickly as I could. They are so annoying, but I’m already liking them. That, again, runs deep in the family, straight to Grey.
I end up getting the seat behind Grey, who’s driving. We are taking Fernando’s truck. When I asked if he knew we were taking it, I was met with silence. They are so sneaky…I kind of like it.
Grey drives out of the space, and I roll down the window. The smell of spices and cigars is extremely thick in the air, but the others don’t seem to notice or mind. But of course they’d be used to it, he is their uncle, except maybe Grey, since he’s been away for a long time. When I look into the rearview, Grey takes deep breaths, and a smile dances on his lips. I guess he misses the smell. I smile and look into my hands on my lap.
“Okay, before we get there, let me tell you the rules,” Emilio announces, turning to me from the passenger seat. “One: do not split from the group. A lot of bad people attend these festivals—”
“Too late there, bud,” Isabella interrupts, black eyes glinting with mischief. “She’s already with him.” She nods in Grey’s direction.
Sofía laughs, Emilio cackles, clapping his hands, and Grey merely smirks but keeps quiet as he drives. Me, on the other hand, I feel incredibly hot and swallow a lump in my throat.
“Was, past tense.” I string my lips in a tight-lipped smile. “What are your other rules?”
He tells the rest, but I zone out because they become ridiculous. He tells me not to breathe when walking past a man in bones that stands on the corner, whatever that means. And soon enough, he and Sofía get in an argument over something, I don’t know exactly. Isabella is snapping pictures with her head out the window to catch the natural moonlight. I’m scared she’ll hit her head on something or drop her phone. But apparently, she knows what she’s doing. Mind you, she said that while her lips were puckered in a horrendous duck position. I just rolled my eyes and fell into my own little world.
Instead, I lean on the window, let out a breath, and close my eyes. I enjoy the soft breeze as we drive over the tremendously long bridge that connects the country to the city. Despite the odd, sexual way he made it sound, it is hot tonight. Definitely hotter than it gets in the night-time in Miami. I’m very glad I didn’t just wave off his words and dressed in a mid-thigh white skirt, flats with cute flower prints, and a loose floral crop top shirt.
“You look very cute, by the way,” Isabella says as she gets back in the car.
“Who? Me?” I look around, confused.
“Well, I’m definitely not talking about Sofia,” she scoffs, and I stifle a laugh.
“Fuck you,” Sofía gasps.
“Sorry, don’t believe in incest,” Isabella jokes, giving a fake pout.
Sofía responds with a nice little middle finger pointed at her cousin, who slaps it away.
“But she is right. You do look really nice.” Sofía suddenly stops bickering with her cousin and gives me an enormous smile.
“Yeah, I wonder why you look all dressed up… hmmm,” Emilio butts in, tapping his chin.
Even the girls hum and tap their chins.
“Oh my gosh, shut up.” I cover my face in humiliation while they laugh their butts off. I peek through my fingers and make the mistake of looking in the rearview mirror. Grey has this little smile, but he doesn’t say anything. His eyes meet mine, and I’m glad my palms are covering my mouth and the smile that mirrors his.
***
Apparently, Emilio’s rules do not apply to the others, because the minute Grey parks his car in a lot and enters the festival grounds, they split up…which means I am alone with Grey. However, I don’t think there should be a problem. So far tonight, he’s been uncharacteristically quiet and calm. I can’t help but anticipate for when he snaps, but for now, I am enjoying his tranquil silence.
I try not to feel anything when he points out different things as we walk. The festival is held in the town square. There are a lot of people, maybe hundreds. He says a lot of people come to town just for tonight. Vendors line the cobblestone street. Bright banners of yellow and red hang along the light poles and are draped along balconies of the old-fashioned but beautiful buildings. A salsa song is blasting through the air. Everyone is dancing in vivacious colors and laughing and kissing and singing, and everything is just so perfect.
“This is so beautiful,” I breathe in awe, staring up at the people dancing on their balconies. I laugh when I find a woman twirling her daughter to the beat of the upbeat music.
“Yeah, it’s pretty something,” Grey replies, his voice raspy and velvety. It sparks goose bumps along my arms and makes me beam up at him. I nearly jump in shock when I find he’s already staring at me.
“Incoming, love-birds,” someone shouts from behind us.
Grey snakes his arms around me and pulls me to the side in time for Emilio running past us. I laugh as I listen to him hoot and make fist pumps as he dashes to a churro stand.
“Oooh, I want one. Come on!” I grab Grey’s hand and feel my stomach bubble at his touch. It’s both amazing and insane how, even after all the times we were together in a much more intimate way, simply holding his hand can make my knees weak and stomach uneasy. We wait in line for a few minutes, me bouncing because of my irrevocable love for churros. He just laughs and shakes his head but stays quiet. At this point I’m uneasy. I have never not heard him speak or make some rude or funny comment since the day I met him. I don’t like it one bit.
“Which one do you want?” he asks as he begins to take out his wallet.
“El chocolate, por favor,” I tell the lady and quickly take out money from my purse. But before I can hand her the money, he grabs my wrist with the money and pulls it back.
“Gracias,” he says with a small smile as he hands her the money.
“I can pay for myself, Grey.” I brought some money in case of emergencies and if I just wanted to splurge. And this definitely counts as splurging money.
He makes a face as I am handed the chocolate-covered churro, and we walk away from the cart. “I didn’t want you to.”
“Why not? We’re not together.”
He winces slightly like my words stung him. “That doesn’t matter.” He looks around, thumbs resting in his jean pockets. “You’re in my hometown, my country. I don’t want you spending money when I can take care of it for you.”
Wow, that is very gentlemen-like of him. I’m kind of shocked.
“But that doesn’t mean you should feel obligated,” I point out.
He shrugs. “Who says I do? I wanted to.”
I stare at him for a few moments, expecting him to say some sarcastic or sly comment. But when he doesn’t, I just hum, and he breaks into a genuine smile. I look away and try to come up with a reason for his random kindness that comes without strings and eat while I do.
We continue strolling along the street, weaving through groups of dancing teens who have lied to their parents to party. I laugh at the thought that I would have never done something like that. Sneak out and go to the library? Yes. But not something as wild and fun like this, not that being at the library isn’t fun. It’s just not as high-spirited as this.
“Oh, hey, check this out,” he says excitedly, grabbing my arm after I throw out the wrapper when I finish my delicious churro. I am shamefully licking my left thumb of remaining chocolate filling when he grabs my right and tugs me from the garbage. My shocked yelp is swallowed in my mouth before I finally let my thumb go and struggle to keep up with Grey’s long strides as he runs. Geez, he can run all the way to Canada in one stride if he wanted.
He comes to a slow stop behind a large, very loud crowd of mostly men. I blush and apologize like a machine gun as he pushes through to the front. I gasp, but it is drowned out by the sickening crunch of bones and grunts and groans and everything you’d expect from two grown, shirtless men, covered in blood, fighting.
I nervously side-glance at Grey, who is beaming at the two men like he’s in a candy shop, but instead of candy in gumball machines, there’s fighter gloves. He must have been a real hard kid to give gifts to.
“Um, what is this?” I ask, kind of scared of the uneasy glances from some of the men. But they quickly avert their eyes the moment I feel Grey tense up behind me. He must have given them an intimidating look. I blush and look at the ground, not able to look in his eyes.
“La pelea del año,” he says. “All the fighters and boxers in town come here to compete for a big match.”
“In the middle of a festival?” I laugh, and he chuckles a little and brushes his hair back. I watch with fascination as those pesky dimples of his come out to play.
“Yes, they know people come from all over for tonight.”
“Ah.” I nod, understanding, grimacing as one of the bulkiest men throws his fist across the other’s face. I look away and say, “They know they’re getting a huge audience and get to show off.”
“Yep,” he says with sadness thick in his voice. “My, uh, my grandfather was a boxer.”
I gasp. “Really?”
He nods and rubs his lower lip, pinches. “Yeah, it sort of runs in the family blood. But it stopped at my father. He didn’t like the idea of it because of the pain the loser had to deal with. Didn’t like the violence one bit…that’s why he hated me so much.” He looks at me, and I want so desperately to hug him. He looks so gutted. “Because I was addicted to the fighting.”
“Like you said, it runs through your veins.” I tap his forearm with a small smile, and he flashes me one…but the frown wins.
“Yeah, I guess…”
My heart squeezes, and I find myself linking my fingers with his. He looks up and his eyes widen for a second, like he doesn’t believe what I’m doing. I don’t even know what I’m doing…but what I do know is that I physically can’t handle him being so distraught.
“Why don’t we go walk around?” I suggest.
He hesitantly nods, glancing at the fighting men. “That’d be nice, actually.”
I smile widely and politely ask people to step back, and they do. I give Grey a pointed look, but he just rolls his eyes and I laugh. Once we are free of the crowd, I feel as though I can breathe. The smell of blood seriously makes me sick.
“Why are you being so nice?” I blurt out.
He laughs and looks at me with a confused expression. “Aren’t I always nice?”
“Um…not all the time.” My voice is kind of high-pitched, and he smiles.
He shrugs and kicks a random rock at his feet. “I guess being with a pretty girl at a place like this brings out the pleasant side of me.” He nudges my shoulder.
“Don’t do that,” I whisper.
“Don’t do what?” He furrows his brows.
“That—be all nice and stuff. It’s freaking me out,” I admit, and he laughs. “I’m being serious.”
“I think that’s the problem, don’t you?” He raises his brows in challenge. “It’s a festival, Liv. Just go with the flow.” He squints his eyes a bit, and my breathing hitches. I have to look away because of all the feelings he’s conjuring in the pit of my stomach.
“I’ll do that as soon as I do something,” I say quickly, and he looks at me weirdly. But I take a step away from him and let go of a breath I wasn’t aware I’d taken hostage. I pull out my phone from my white shoulder bag and pull up Noah’s contact. My heart squeezes when I see he hasn’t responded to the text I sent him before we left the house. I sigh and begin typing a message, letting him know what’s happening. In case, you know…
A loud shrill beside me makes me jump and drop my phone. I look to my left, clutching my chest while my heart loses control. A tall man wearing a sharp suit and a black fedora, face painted like he’s a skeleton, is screaming at me. What the hell is wrong with him? I feel myself flush bright red when I notice a lot of people are laughing at me, one of them being Grey. I nudge him in the stomach before snatching my phone from the ground and speed-walking away.
“What the hell was that?” I hiss at Grey when he catches up to my side.
“El cráneo gritando,” he answers calmly. I must look as confused as I feel, because he sighs and explains, “Emilio told you about him in the car. The man in bones?” (The screaming man.)
“What’s his problem, though? He can’t just go around screaming at people who walk by. That’s crazy!” I exclaim, and he laughs. “It’s not funny,” I whine, and he laughs harder.
“Oh, yes, it is. You should have seen your face!” He laughs his head off, dimples popping into his hair-dusted cheeks.
I roll my eyes and examine my phone that now has a crack in the middle. “Dang it,” I curse when I switch it on and see the screen has some weird pixels. “Damn you, skeleton man!”
“What’s wrong?” He leans over, his shoulder brushing against mine. I ignore the tingles in my fingertips as I run my hand along the crack.
“There’s a crack,” I reveal to him.
“Don’t sweat it.” He shrugs.
I snap my head at him and scoff. “This is my phone I’m talking about here. You know, my means of communication.”
He shrugs again. I wish he would just stop doing that. “So?”
“So?” He sounds insane. I can’t be laid back about this.
“You’re too reserved sometimes,” he says. “You need to let go, Liv.”
“I can let go,” I defend myself.
Oh no…
His eyes sparkle as he works my nerves, like the first time he challenged me to go to that god-awful frat party. “Then come dance with me.” He crosses his arms with the smuggest look ever. It makes my blood boil, and I grit my teeth.
“Okay, then—I will!” I stomp past him and faintly hear him snickering behind me as I emerge into the massive group of people dancing. I suddenly realize how good he is at getting me to do things and turn around to tell him to suck it. But I run into his chest, and he smiles like he’s won, because, well, he already has. Denying this now would just make me look stupid and like a baby. But I am neither. I just roll my eyes and begin moving around to the beat of an old song, “Maria Maria” by Santana.
He takes my hips in his hands, and I stiffen, beginning to reel back. “No, look.” His eyes dash around the vibrant crowd. I look around and feel myself heat up at what I find: couples dancing against each other. But when I look closer, I notice the girls are shaking and moving their hips in a really sexy, intimidating way. They are also dressed in tight-fitting clothes and are showing off their insane wide hips and toned stomachs. I feel myself gulp as I realize I look like I’m dressed for church on Easter Sunday.
And Grey must want them. They’re all so beautiful and not afraid to show off their sexy sides. That’s why he pointed them out.
“I don’t feel good,” I lie and begin to pull away again, but his grip on me is like steel—I don’t budge.
“Don’t lie, just dance. Follow my lead,” he instructs. I look down and watch as he moves like the guys, slow and sensual against me. I feel flushed and shake my head. He finally steps back and frowns at me as his eyes roam my face. “What’s wrong?”
“I…” I gulp and look around. “I can’t…dance like that.”
“Yes, you can. I’ve witnessed it myself,” he argues.
“But I’m not…I’m not like them.” Ugh! I sound so stupid. I look away from him, ashamed.
He tsks and cups my face, forcing me to look at him. “I don’t care about them. I like you for you. Now, show me you’re different and dance, god damnit.” He breaks into a contagious grin, because I mirror it and hesitantly nod my head.
I begin to move again and look around at the girls again, but he forces me to look into his eyes. I smile small, blushing profusely. I close my eyes and actually let myself get lost in the beat of the music. I swing my hips from side to side as best as I can and dance to the music.
“There you go,” he praises, voice thick with desire.
I open my eyes and feel my mouth drop open. He looks incredibly sexy: his black button down is open, revealing his tan, tatted chest and chiseled stomach and torso. His black hair looks slicked with sweat or the night mist under the intense light from the bulbs hung all around. And his eyes, oh boy, they’re shooting right through me, and they are laced with fire and I feel as though I am out of breath.
He turns me around like he’s trying to hold back from doing something, and I find I am grateful he did. I continue to dance and let my head fall onto his back. The laughter and loud music are drowned out…the only thing I can hear is his heavy, hot breathing from behind me. I can no longer feel the vibrations of the music system, but the even more prominent beat of his heart on my back. I lick my lips and bite my lips as his arms drape around my hips, helping me move them from side-to-side. I gasp but it’s easily drowned out by his little groan as he slowly slides my skirt up my thigh.
I should get off of him. I should stop him. I should because…oooh, his hand is moving and moving and moving…why should I stop him?
“No…” I begin, then it hits me. “No, Grey—stop.” I turn around and place my hands on his hard chest. Oh, such a wrong move.
“Why should I?” he rasps and leans down. I moan when his hands cup my butt, and I fling my head back. His soft lips gently kiss my right mouth corner. “When I know you want this as much as me?”
“Because I am—” I begin breathlessly.
He cuts me off when he smashes his lips onto mine. I am engulfed in flames. My toes curl, and I lean on my toes to help. I find my fingers wrapping in his hair while his squeeze into my butt, making me moan and drop my mouth open. His tongue slides in and teases mine. I smile a little when he finds a certain spot that always makes me laugh because fuck, can he tease.
He pulls away too soon and smirks against my lips as I pant for air.
“You were saying,” he breathes.
“Wet…” I mumble.
He laughs a little, and I smile because of it, tracing a tattoo on his right pec.
“Don’t be so fucking cocky,” I warn, dragging my nails down his chest.
He hisses, but his eyes light with obvious pleasure, and he opens his mouth to say something.
I swallow his immature reply with my mouth meeting his.