We got stuck in traffic almost instantly. As much as I told myself I didn’t believe in signs, it sometimes felt like I was presented with one example after another that they existed for real. Case in point, us leaving the lodge so we could get out of the unfortunate position we’d put ourselves in, just to get trapped on I-87 in a complete standstill.
Angel drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, slouched in the driver’s seat, trying hard not to look annoyed by the situation. He occasionally sighed or sucked his teeth before muttering under his breath too low to be heard over the warble of the radio, but he kept his irritation to himself. Maybe because he’d wanted this ride back to be low-key, or maybe because he knew aggressive drivers put me on edge. Driving in a car with Raymond was an adventure between one explosion of rage and the next.
After twenty minutes of not moving an inch, I unclipped my seat belt and extended my legs so my feet rested on the dashboard. Angel glanced over, eyes skimming my legs before returning to the road.
“You’re still allowed to look, you know.”
His mouth quirked. “Yeah?”
I shrugged, going for nonchalant. “I’m going to keep admiring the goods.”
“‘The goods,’” he repeated with a laugh. “Which goods are those?”
“Hmm.” Smiling slightly, I rolled my head to the side so I could give him a long exaggerated once-over. “The shoulders for one. And your ass. I love a guy with a bubble butt.”
“You like a guy who doesn’t mind having his bubble butt pegged.”
My smile widened. “Damn right. I love that sound you make when I play with your prostate.”
Angel scoffed, but heat was already rising up his neck. “I barely make any sounds.”
“Lies. You moan really loud, then try to hide it so it comes out like a growl.” At the sight of his flush turning a deeper shade of red, I lowered my voice and mimicked the sound. “Mmm . . . Ugh. Oh fuck, St—” Angel reached over to cover my mouth, but I dodged him, laughing. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s hot.”
“Yeah, but I don’t really want to think about fucking while I’m trapped in this tiny vehicle.” He made a grumpy face and shifted in the seat. “Me being horny is a waste of energy when I can’t do anything about it.”
On a usual day, I would have zoomed to discussing all the things we could be doing if we weren’t in a car trapped around hundreds of other cars, but now my enthusiasm dimmed. I slumped against the seat, legs still stretched in front of me, and toyed with the frayed hem of my jean cutoffs. After a beat of us sitting in silence, he shot me a worried look.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” My voice came out too loud and bright. Cringing, I dialed it back. “Everything’s fine. I’m fine.”
Angel continued to observe me from under the brim of his cap. “Don’t be weird.”
“I’m not being weird.” It was a complete lie, and judging by the way he kept giving me the same dull stare, he knew it. “Fine. I’m trying to act normal.”
“Nothing about you trying to sound super upbeat is normal, babe.” He poked my side, smiling when I inched away quickly.
“Don’t even try, León. I’ll kick your ass right here.”
He pretended to poke me again and laughed outright when I nearly threw myself against the side of the car to escape his fingers. “So ticklish. Remember on our senior trip when you snuck into my and Chris’s cabin?”
I rolled my eyes. Our senior trip had been notable primarily because Raymond had been banned from all field trips due to one fight too many, and Tonya had not gone to any of them in solidarity. The senior trip had been me, Chris, and Angel getting into shenanigans at a weird dude ranch. And me ducking my other school friends to hang out with them the entire time.
“Yes. You got drunk on that shit Crystal snuck in and made the mistake of tickling me.”
“Yeah, you kneed me in the balls, and Chris nearly pissed himself laughing.”
“I told you not to tickle me,” I said, smirking. “But you were so dramatic and pathetic—”
“Dramatic? That shit hurt!”
“I offered to kiss it better,” I reminded him, grinning. “And then you nearly pissed yourself. Chris was so ready to watch me blow you.”
“Yeah, because Chris couldn’t get anyone to blow him,” Angel grumbled, as if the memory still annoyed him.
“No. He was just a baby smut muffin who didn’t realize he was poly as fuck even back then.”
Angel made a low sound in the back of his throat that was half laugh, half incredulous grunt. “You know, it’s really weird how I can look back on all of this minor shit that happened when we were kids, and see signs that were always there and that I never noticed. Chris and Ray didn’t change, they just became more confidant in who they are. And stopped being afraid of what they wanted.”
“What specifically do you mean?”
“Everything that’s happened with our friends in the past couple of years.” Angel shook his head slowly, squinted at the traffic, then shifted the car into park. He arched his back. “Chris being queer and poly, but also Raymond. I was all shocked when I realized he was bi, but thinking back . . . it was pretty obvious. I’d catch him looking at guys sometimes, but he was so . . . Ray-like that I never thought twice.”
“‘Ray-like.’” I snorted. “Meaning, he was like a prettier version of my tough-guy brother, and tough guys don’t like dick?”
Angel rolled his eyes. “I know it’s stupid, but I was a teenager. Teenagers are stupid.”
“Especially teenage boys.”
“Especially teenage boys,” he agreed. “I spent so much time wishing and worrying and fantasizing as a kid that I let a lot of experiences pass me by. But it’s easier to think of what we could have done in retrospect, right?”
The words hit close to home, so I only nodded.
Right.
I watched him twist and stretch and roll his shoulders until the car filled with the nerve-racking sound of everything popping. I knew he was probably sore and uncomfortable from being cramped in the tiny car we’d rented, and I itched to rub his neck and shoulders. Before this trip, I would have without a hesitation. Even when we were in our “off again” stages, we didn’t hesitate to casually touch each other. He wasn’t wrong for not being sure of how we were supposed to act around each other. I played it cool like I had this all figured out, but I didn’t have one clue who we were if we weren’t the Stephanie and Angel who’d carried not-so-secret torches for each other for years.
It didn’t seem possible to go back to being just friends when we hadn’t been just friends since we’d met. He’d said it was easy to see things more clearly in retrospect, and in retrospect, I now realized I’d always been infatuated with him. Since that first day when he’d walked in wearing a Nas T-shirt, my eyes had locked on him with laser focus.
Not only had I been charmed by him, I’d wanted him to notice me. To see me. Later, I’d loved that he’d had a crush on me without ever confessing it in some stupid text message or passed note like all the other boys in school. I’d loved that he’d been kind and sweet to me without expecting anything in return. It was partially why I’d kept us in that place—never acknowledging his crush or my own developing feelings. I hadn’t wanted to spoil it by making us like all the other couples who inevitably crumbled to dust, and I hadn’t wanted to lose his unconditional sweetness.
Now, as I nibbled my lower lip and gazed into the hazy distance, I realized this was why I’d felt so threatened by Crystal. All she’d done was want him. Want him, tell him she wanted him, and they’d wound up together. That simple. I’d seethed and hated her for it, thinking she should have somehow known he was off-limits because of my weird thing about him, but in reality . . . I’d just resented her for doing something I’d not allowed myself to do.
And it was going to happen again in adulthood. Me wanting him, holding myself back, and . . . losing him to someone else. And maybe this time, as adults, there would be no second chances.
My eyes slid shut, and I took a shaky breath.
“You okay?”
I inhaled again, slow and deep, and wrapped my arms across my stomach. Angel touched my cheek, those callused fingers rubbing gently against my cheekbone.
“Hey. If you need some air or something, we can—”
“I want us to try,” I blurted.
Angel’s hand stilled, but he said nothing. I covered it with my own and opened my eyes, trying to convey calm while shuddering from the storm waging inside me. There was a push and pull of what I wanted versus what I thought I should want, and in the middle of it all was the part of my heart that had always been reserved just for him.
“Try . . . to get some air . . . jointly?”
An incredulous laugh burst out of me. I smacked his shoulder. “No, pendejo. Don’t ruin this.” He kept giving me the same bewildered look, so I forced a tremulous smile. “I want us to try being a couple.”
Angel’s light-green eyes were unblinking, his face creased with worry. “Are you fucking with me, Stephanie? Because it’s not—”
“I’m not fucking with you.” I turned sideways in the passenger’s seat and leaned across the center console to touch his thigh. Every muscle in his body was drawn tight with tension. “I want you. I want us.”
“But you said you don’t want a relationship.” The confusion didn’t leave Angel’s expression, but his breathing grew faster. “Last night when we talked, you said—”
“I know.” I reached for his hand and squeezed it hard before releasing it. “But I keep thinking . . . about the what-ifs. What if I stick to my guns because I don’t want everything to fail, and for us to ruin each other, and the only thing that gets ruined is my chance to be with you? What if this time I lose you for good?”
“Steph—” Angel’s voice was strained. When he touched my hand again, his own was shaking. “Nena, are you serious? Is this for real?”
“I want it to be for real. And, look—” My words started coming out in a rush, tripping over each other and blending together in a panic. “Maybe it won’t be perfect. Or maybe I’m bad at being a girlfriend. Maybe we’ll fight just as much as a couple as when we’re upset over not being a couple. Maybe—”
Angel grabbed the back of my neck and drew me into a kiss. It wasn’t harsh or demanding, but it wasn’t gentle either. It was a firm, seal-the-deal type of kiss. A we’re-a-fucking-couple-for-better-or-worse type of kiss.
And it was exactly the type of kiss I needed.
When we broke apart, he smiled against my lips. That little-boy smile. The one that was hesitant and excited all at the same time.
“We’re really doing this,” he whispered. “You’re sure?”
“I’m su—”
A horn blasted behind us, and Angel jerked away. I blinked, looking out the window, and saw traffic had begun moving again. The horn blared again, longer this time, and Angel unrolled the window, his face flushed with anger.
“Hijo de la gran—”
“Angel,” I said, laughing, and pulling him back to me again. “Fuck him. Look at me.”
Angel swung his angry gaze back to me, and his face instantly melted from the hard glare into a searching stare.
“I love you,” I said. “And if I’m going to change my mind for anyone, it’s for you. Now let’s get the hell out of here before that dude rear-ends us.”
“Yeah.” Angel was nodding but not driving, still staring at me like he couldn’t look away. Or like he’d never seen me before. “Okay.”
When a series of horns blared behind us, I covered his hand with my own and put it on the shifter. This time it was him who closed his eyes for a second, like he was saying a prayer, before we shifted together and put the car back into drive.
“We’ve got this, Angelito,” I said softly. “I promise. And if we fuck up, we have a whole bunch of pain-in-the-ass friends who will try to help us fix it.”
Angel snorted out a fond laugh. “I can hear them now.”
“Me too. And I can’t wait to tell them.”
This time the smile that crossed Angel’s face was broad and proud. As he steered us back toward the five boroughs, one hand on the wheel and one hand holding me steady under the sudden weight of this new reality, “Real Love” by Mary J. came on.
Maybe signs were real after all.