Page 33 of A Curvy Girl’s Hurricane Survival Guide

I shove the phone back into my pocket, hard enough that it almost tears through the thin material of my kaftan. Staring at it isn’t going to make any of this make sense. Nothing is going to make any of this make sense.

I leap to my feet and take a deep breath, trying to pull myself together before heading back to the den. The bathroom I was in wasn’t the closest to the den, but the one a little farther away, which I’d chosen to ensure I remained undisturbed.

The walk back gives me a little more time to collect myself, and as I approach the den doorway, I can hear laughter, my siblings’ familiar overlapping voices, and underneath it, Sonny’s quieter, warmer laugh.

I slow down, suddenly curious about what is being discussed.

“I’m pretty sure I was the only person in high school who paid their younger sister to do their homework,” Alex is saying, clearly in the middle of a story about me. “She was brilliant, though. It would take her seconds to write what would take me all night.”

“Really? And she was cool about this?” Sonny sounds disbelieving.

Alex scoffs. “Yeah, right. She was cool for like a second, then got the bare minimum of questioning from Mama, and she spilled the beans. Made it sound like I had manipulated her into it.”

“I remember that!” Crispi chimes in. “She was sobbing. I thought she was hurt!”

“Nope, just snitching on me.”

“Some people don’t do ‘bad’ behavior well,” Sonny adds, his tone light but thoughtful.

The words strike a chord in me. Is he thinking about the closet? The moment I could have thrown caution to the wind and given in? Would he have preferred it if I were more morally grey?

“Cai doesn’t do bad at all,” Alex continues. “She barely speaks up for herself.”

She is making me sound like a spineless victim. I am beginning to feel a little offended, but I had just come from the bathroom, where I was obsessing over texts from my cheating boyfriend.

I turn into the room and do my best to sound neutral. “Hey, sorry if that took long. Everything’s harder in the dark.”

A smile crosses Sonny’s face as soon as we make eye contact. He has a way of looking at me that feels like we’re communicating in our own silent language. Even now, his eyes tell me he has a quip he just has to say.

“That’s what she said,” he jokes, and Crispi snorts.

I am about to suggest we break off and call it a night when there is the sound of breaking glass. We all freeze. I had all but forgotten about the hurricane, too distracted by the internal struggle to pay any mind to the actual storm.

Crispi snaps into action. “Alex, go check on the kids. I’ll go check the living room and kitchen. Cai, check the front rooms and your room.”

I give him a tight nod and gesture for Sonny to follow me. His eyes dart around the room. In the hallway, he asks me, “Do we think that’s a window that broke? Is that what we are looking for?”

“That’s the worst-case scenario. Probably nothing; a wine glass or something. I don’t hear any wind or rain, so it’s doubtful it’s a window.” We turn into one of the bathrooms and scan it quickly.

“So none of this phases you? The hurricane-force wind? The potential flooding? None of it?”

“I didn’t say that,” I say, pressing a finger to my lips to make sure he stays quiet as we open the door to the room where Abuela is sleeping.

Soft snores, peaceful and oblivious to the roaring storm outside, reach my ears as I quickly pass my flashlight beam over the floor. Nothing seems to explain the sound, so I take a step back and close the door. I hadn’t realized how close I was to Sonny; I push right into him.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t so much as inhale. Sonny’s body is hard and somehow still accepting of my softness up against him.

I turn, moving slightly away from him. “Oops, I’m sorry.”

Sonny looks at me with hunger and passion. “I’m not.”

His eyes flick to my mouth and mine to his. His lips look soft and part slightly. They call to me. My non-flashlight hand starts to move towards his chiseled jaw, longing to trace it. A stirring in my belly has begun: a tugging and pulling between my legs that makes me tingle with excitement.

The lack of control scares me a little but also thrills me. My little inner gremlin chimes in. You can be bad. Give in. Sonny is so hot, and he’s just looking for a good time. You could be a good time. Just have fun. You know Trevor is.

“Tornados!” I blurt out. I won’t be like Trevor. I won’t let someone like him change me.

“Chicken,” my inner gremlin says before ducking away.