Dalila
The people in the mosh pit are sweaty and loud. They’re jumping around like they’re being electrocuted.
And I’m loving it!
This was worth sneaking into my house and grabbing my passport without permission.
Atticus Patton is screaming the lyrics as if he wants the entire state of Texas to hear him . . . and Mexico, too. I was watching the mosh pit from the sidelines, but then I decided to join in the fun. At home I play the perfect daughter. Here, I can be anyone. I’m getting tossed around in the chaos, but it just makes me feel free and wild.
Until I’m halted by an iron grip on my waist. Suddenly I’m whisked out of the pit by some jerk with rock-hard biceps and a solid wall of a chest.
What the—
When he sets me down I whip myself around and am met with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. A satisfied smile is plastered on his perfectly chiseled face. What does he think, that because he’s cute he can pick me up like I’m some rag doll?
He leans down and says loudly, “You can thank me later.”
Thank him? “For what?” I yell over the music.
“Saving you.”
A chuckle escapes my mouth. Saving me? Is he kidding? I’m so annoyed my first instinct is to chastise him in my native language. “I don’t need saving, pendejo!” I declare with irritation laced in my voice. “I can take care of myself, Mr. America.”
He just stands there as if he’s suddenly frozen in time.
Not wanting to miss more of the fun, I push past him and fling myself back into the mosh pit. Atticus is singing the next song, one about celebrating your uniqueness called “This Is Me.”
This is me, I’m not gonna change for you.
Take me as I am or I’ll find someone new.
Being flung from side to side somehow releases all the stress I’ve been feeling lately. Stress from my parents to make the right decision on my future, stress because I don’t know if I can meet their expectations, stress because I want to make up for Lucas not being here anymore to ease their pain.
Suddenly they start singing “One Night in Crazy.” I close my eyes and try to remember what it was like in the car with my brother. I remember him always tapping the dashboard as if he was playing drums and encouraging me to join in. Between songs, he used to tell me about his hopes and dreams of becoming a doctor. He wanted to help others who couldn’t help themselves. I took on that role after he died.
One Night in Crazy was all it took,
You stole my soul with just one look.
When the song ends, I leave the pit and head for the bar area. “Hey,” a dorky guy with short-cropped hair and a round face says to me. “This concert is insane!”
“It is,” I agree.
He leans down. “I’m Skyler,” he yells in my ear so loud my eardrum starts ringing. He’s got short legs and his stocky build reminds me of a cartoon character.
“I’m Dalila.”
I’m bobbing my head to the music as I wait for the bartender to come over so I can order something to drink. My mouth is so dry I’m seriously tempted to reach across the bar and chug water directly from the tap.
I wave at the bartender but there are so many people crowding around he doesn’t notice me. Ugh.
“I’ve been trying to get a beer for five minutes,” Skyler says. “Can I buy you one?”
I shake my head and point to my hand, the one that doesn’t have an OVER 21 stamp on it. “Just a Coca for me,” I tell him. “If the guy ever comes over here.”
Craning my neck, I see Soona at the other end of the club talking with the same guy she’s been chatting with for the past twenty minutes. Her eyes are bright and attentive and she laughs heartily at something he says. She’s definitely having a good time.
Demi is catching the attention of the Shadows of Darkness guitarist, who’s smiling down at her from the stage like she’s a goddess. He probably thinks she’s going to be some groupie that’ll go backstage with him, but he’ll be sorely mistaken. Demi might be a major flirt, but she’s not into one-night stands or hookups.
Skyler taps me on the shoulder. “Here,” he says, handing me a clear plastic cup. “Coke, right?”
I nod and take the drink from him. “Thank you.”
“Do you live around here?” he asks.
“Not really.”
“Me, either.” He takes a swig of his beer, and then I feel his hand on the small of my back. I take a small step away from him to create some distance. “I drove down from Nevada with some of my frat brothers. We’re staying at a hotel around the corner.”
“Cool.” As I lift the cup to my mouth, that guy with the blue eyes who rudely whisked me out of the mosh pit rushes up to me and bats the Coca out of my hand. It flies in the air and the contents splash all over me.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I yell, then look down at my drenched outfit.
“Yeah, man,” Skyler says, puffing up his chest like a peacock ready for a brawl. “She’s with me.”
Before I can blink, Mr. America’s fist connects with Skyler’s jaw. The guy stumbles backward and falls to the floor.
“Are you insane?” I yell at Mr. America as I clumsily push him away.
“He slipped something into your drink,” Mr. America says in a calm, steady voice.
“What?” I glare at Skyler, who’s still on the ground. “Did you?”
Skyler’s eyes are wide now as he presses his palm to his reddening cheek. “I didn’t put anything in your drink! I swear!”
“Dude, I fucking saw you!” Mr. America grabs Skyler’s collar and pulls him up. “Stay here,” he growls through gritted teeth. “I’m calling security.”
Panic settles in my chest as I look over at the security detail. Oh no! I recognize one of them as Gerardo, a bodyguard who my papá hires for parties and corporate events. I can’t be questioned by him. What if he tattles on me to my father that I crossed the border without permission? I’ll be in so much trouble. As soon as Mr. America turns to summon security, I put my hand over his mouth.
“Don’t do that,” I tell him.
He pushes my hand away. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not a big deal.”
“It’s not a big deal that he was about to drug you?” he questions.
“Forget it.”
With our attention diverted, Skyler runs through the exit doors and disappears.
Mr. America swears under his breath. “Looks like you don’t know how to take care of yourself as much as you think you do,” he tells me.
I poke my finger into his chest. “You need to—” I stop talking because out of the corner of my eye I see Gerardo pushing through the crowd, heading toward us. Onlookers are circling us now, soaking up the drama that just unfolded.
I’m trying to find a way out of this mess and to ditch the attention, but it’s no use. A uniformed officer is blocking my path. He’s a big guy with sharp eyes and a pointy nose.
“What’s going on here?” he asks in a gruff voice.
“Nothing.” I grab Mr. America’s hand and lean into him to shield my face from Gerardo. “Right, baby?”
“Right,” Mr. America replies in a monotone voice.
The officer lingers for a minute. In an attempt to urge him to leave, I rise up on my tiptoes. Praying Mr. America plays along, I bury my hands in his thick hair and touch my lips to his. I’m determined to make this make-out session look convincing.
Instead of repulsion, the touch of his soft but firm lips against mine sends delicious sensations zinging up my spine. I’ve kissed boys before, but I’ve never felt goose bumps all over like this. It feels too nice and comforting. It’s obvious this boy is not an amateur in the kissing department.
When we come up for air, his eyes are locked on mine. I’m barely aware that the officer is gone and Gerardo’s attention is elsewhere. I clear my throat and let out a long, slow breath to make my heart stop racing from that amazing kiss. For a second I forget where I am, until I hear Atticus singing again.
Death is knocking at my door,
Don’t you come around no more.
“Isn’t this convenient,” a girl with bright red hair snarls at us. She eyes our hands that are still entwined. “Just a little piece of advice,” she says to me over the music. “He only does one-night stands. In the morning this loser will dump you and never look back.”
Mr. America takes his hand from mine. He looks less than thrilled to be in this girl’s presence. “Mikayla, we’re not—”
“We’re not a one-night stand,” I interrupt him, then grab his elbow affectionately. “Because we’ve been dating for two months and we’re planning on going to college together.”
Before he can respond, Mikayla laughs heartily. “College? Ha! That’s a good one.” With her giggle still lingering in the air, she leaves us to join a bunch of her friends witnessing our interaction.
“Now we’re even,” I tell Mr. America as I take my hand off his arm. “You saved me from that guy who spiked my drink and I saved you from that mean girl.”
“You’re wrong,” he says in a husky tone. “I helped you hide from that security guard over there and distract the cop. It’s obvious you’re hiding from the law. Are you considered armed and dangerous?” he teases.
I push my shoulders back and stick my chin out, attempting to project an air of confidence. I’m trying not to focus on his soft, full lips that were on mine a minute ago. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not hiding from anyone.”
He leans on the bar stool and crosses his arms on his chest like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Then why’d you kiss me?”
Come up with something quickly, Dalila. “I thought you’d be a good kisser,” I tell him, then add, “but I was wrong.”
With that, I turn on my heel and weave through the crowd. My heart is thumping as fast as the beat of the music. When I find Soona, she’s still talking to that same guy she’s been attached to all night. “Dios mío, are you okay?” she asks in a worried tone as I find a spot next to her. “Your clothes are soaked! And your face is all flushed.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. I’m beyond embarrassed that my heart is still racing from that kiss. “I just need some air.”