Page 21 of A Curvy Girl’s Hurricane Survival Guide

SONNY

The first time I attended a convention, after Silent Knights blew up, I was completely overwhelmed. From every direction, fans in elaborate costumes swarmed us; praise, criticism, and rapid-fire questions. Security formed a loose perimeter, but it still felt like walking through a pixelated mob. I was flattered, sure, but mostly out of my depth. I’ve done dozens of panels since, and it’s gotten easier with each one.

Standing here, watching the rest of Cai’s family pour through the front door, a weirdly similar anxiety strikes me. The sheer number of people isn’t even close, yet the energy makes ten feel like a hundred. They are buzzing, talking rapidly in a mix of Spanish and English, hands flying animatedly. Most are older, in Cai’s parents’ generation, and Abuela is nosing her way between them, offering greetings. Rey and Alex are among them, as well as Crispi, Cai’s brother. No wife there, I notice. A few older kids, I assume tweens or teens, loiter around the edges of the group, faces fixed to phone screens.

One man carries a potted plant, another has a stack of framed photos, and one woman, whom Cai later identifies as Tia Elena, clutches a large wooden rosary with a heavy cross as if it were body armor.

We are watching from the hall opening, tucked away enough that we haven’t been noticed, but can still see them conversing in the front room. Cai stays close, pointing out each new arrival with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. The cooling mask has done its job—her eyes no longer look puffy. She can probably get away with claiming allergies if anyone asked. Still, I kept catching myself watching her, hyper-aware of every little shift in her expression.

It’s strange. Earlier, when she couldn’t see me because of the mask, the words had come easier. I’d almost told her about my work, about the launch pressure, and the endless calls I’m ignoring. The second the mask came off, so did my courage. I’ve already made her cry once today. The last thing I want is to disappoint her, too.

The insistent buzz of my phone in my pocket is harder to ignore. More texts from the team, who are clearly ignoring my earlier guidance to figure it out.

I hesitate for a minute, but deciding it will be faster to just make a call, I turn to Cai and say, “Can you give me one second?”

Cai looks at the phone and then at me and says, “Yeah, of course!”

I retreat a few steps into the hallway and ring up the Creative Director, Jake, who answers on the first ring, “Hey Boss, what’s up?”

“Jake, has your team gotten the direction that all approvals and questions need to be routed through Ben for the next 24 hours? That I’m out of the office?”

“Uhhh… Yes?” Jake says more like a question than an answer.

“Then why am I getting inundated with emails and messages for simple approvals that could be handled by any of you?”

“I didn’t know you were. Sorry, Boss, I’ll make sure it’s addressed.”

“Please see that it is. Thank you, Jake.”

I hang up, adrenaline spiking. I am usually a very open and friendly boss, probably why everyone feels comfortable coming to me. However, I know that every now and then it’s important to ensure authority is respected. Doesn’t make it easier.

I turn back to see Cai looking at me; her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are slightly parted. My heart rate picks up a little, not just because of the phone call. She’s a vision as she watches me, eyes exploring.

I step towards her, “Sorry about that.”

She shakes her head. “Oh no, please! No need to apologize. Sounded important.”Her hand touches my arm slightly.

“Nah, just work stuff. Not that important.” I’m not sure why I say that. My work has always been the most important thing. The adrenaline, the whirlwind events, the sensory overload of all the new foods and smells- that hand on my arm- it was causing a disconnect between my head and my mouth.

“Cayetana! ¡Hombre, al fin!” Came from someone in the crowd, cutting into my thoughts, and we turned from each other to face the mob.

Cai gives a small, nervous smile as the family descends.

“Remember when I told you they’d assume we were a couple?” she mutters through her teeth.

“Yeah…”

“Well… that’s about to happen a lot.”

Before I can respond, they swarmed her like a colorful, loud hurricane to match the one closing in, kissing her cheeks, asking rapid questions, and pulling her into hugs. I shake hands and nod where I can, smiling through the barrage of names I’ll never remember.

Cai’s cheeks flush deeper with every new introduction. I try not to look too happy about it. I want to step in, wrap an arm around her waist, and claim her as mine. As if noticing my eyes on her, Cai looks over.

Her smile’s infectious and unrestrained. Realizing she holds my gaze, she pulls a face, sticking out her tongue at the side of her mouth, scrunching up her nose, and crossing her eyes. It catches me off guard, and I almost guffaw. I turn it into a small cough, but I nearly claim the title of biggest dork in the world, and I don’t even care. They may call her lots of things, but no one can call Cai predictable.

Rule #10

IF YOUR STORY DOESN’T HOLD UP TO THE STORM, MAKE UP A BETTER ONE