Page 31 of A Curvy Girl’s Hurricane Survival Guide

So I default to what I always do: make jokes and try to make her laugh.

“Just wear something comfortable,” Cai says. “You’d be surprised how fast the temperature rises once the power goes out.”

Luckily, I brought a pair of basketball shorts. With our clothes picked out, we figure the easiest thing to do is to turn the flashlight off and change. It is impossibly dark with the windows boarded and no power; I can’t see my hand in front of my face.

I try not to imagine the different states of undress she’s in as I hear clothes rustle and hit the floor. In typical Cai fashion, she keeps up a constant stream of conversation.

“I almost didn’t bring this dress. It’s a pool cover-up I bought for a staycation we had to cancel, so I never got to wear it. But I figured, just in case, I’d bring it. It’s a little big, but it’s thin, so it should be cool enough. Are you good?”

I nod before remembering she can’t see me. “Yup.”

Cai turns on the flashlight and sets it on the table behind her to act as a lamp while she picks up the clothes she’d just changed out of. My heart stops.

She’s wearing a kaftan made of thin, colorful material, slightly cinched at the waist. The fabric is so delicate that with the light behind her, I can see her body perfectly silhouetted—soft curves, the gentle swell of her hips, and the full, beautiful shape of her. She doesn’t look like a model, a video game avatar, or anything I’ve seen a thousand times before. The women who lusted after me recently, who wanted me for my success, have been described by others as the epitome of female sex appeal. To me, however, none of those women can hold a candle to Cai. She was more real somehow. Something that, to me, speaks of pure perfection.

I have always considered myself a gentleman, but for the first time ever, a crack forms in that social politeness. Something raw and primal is clawing its way out. Tex Avery’s wolf is howling in my head. My heart races. I don’t know what it is about her, but my body reacts to Cai the way other people react to amphetamines. I am hooked.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Yes,” I manage. But am I?

We step back into the hallway, the thin beam of her flashlight cutting through the darkness. The house feels different now—hotter, closer, more alive, with the storm’s relentless blowing a constant now. As we make our way toward the den, Cai stays quiet. Every few steps, our arms brush, and each time it sends a spark through me.

Walking from Cai’s room, we can already hear the family gathering: laughter, the clack of dominoes being shuffled, and Mama calling out instructions. Someone had managed to get the big lantern set up so that it casts a warm, golden glow over the room.

Crispiano spots us first as we walk in. “There they are! Are you guys playing?”

Cai gives a small, nervous laugh. “Sonny needs to learn the rules, and you guys aren’t really the educationally supportive type. We’ll sit over here and watch, and I’ll explain the game to him.”

I force a grin, trying to match her lightness, but my mind is still stuck in that closet. On the way her body felt against mine. On the way she hadn’t told me to step back. Seeing her silhouette gave me a visual that made it all the more real.

As we settle onto a loveseat overlooking the card table, the lantern light flickers across her face, I catch her glancing at me again—quick, conflicted, searching. The same look she’d had in the closet.

The game starts, and Cai gives me the play-by-play, explaining the rules and translating the numerous expletives. The real game, the one happening between Cai and me in stolen glances and accidental touches, seems far more important.

I become more lost when trying to figure out what to do next than I do with the lively game of dominoes happening in two languages right in front of me.

My mind tries to stay focused on the game, the strategy, and the back-and-forth. Even at one point, I start envisioning a strategy video game that could be programmed from this domino game. Even with that on my mind, I still notice Cai’s attention wavering. She is fidgeting again, just like when she was in the living room after looking at her phone. Maybe it was the storm?

With a triumphant slam of a piece and Cai’s mom exclaiming, “¡Salida!” the table erupts, and it’s obvious this match is over. Crispi and Alex, who had been partners, throw their hands up in defeat and get up from the table.

Alex rolls her eyes and comments on the game to Crispi as they walk over. “Every time, Crispi! You get tripped up on that nine hand every time.” Crispi just shrugs, and Cai jumps to her feet.

“I have to run to the bathroom. Can you guys keep Sonny company for a minute?” Cai says quickly to her siblings.

Before they can even answer, Cai is out the door.

“Sheesh, was it something I said?” Crispi comments.

“I guess when you gotta go…” Alex jokes, then turns to me. “So what’s the deal? Rey says you two aren’t a thing?”

I nod. “Just friends.”

Crispi frowns. “I knew you were too normal for Cai. She has the worst taste in men; it’s sad.”

I don’t want to upset her family, especially when they were paying me a compliment of sorts, but I feel protective of Cai. Before I can consider the words, I say, “I’m sure Cai’s boyfriends have redeeming qualities.”

Alex shrugs. “We wouldn’t know. We’ve never met any of them. She tells us about them. They all sound like sweet, caring, attentive, upstanding citizens who just happen to be too busy, or too shy, or too unfortunate to ever meet her family or even be available during a FaceTime.”