Page 118 of Raspados & Regret

I sit up, and finally, the dots appear.

Fabián

Because I don’t know how to do this.

Elías

Do what?

Fabián

This.

Elías

You’re gonna have to be more specific.

Fabián

You.

My breath catches, and for one stupid second, I think it is romantic. Then he keeps typing and ruins it.

Fabián

Us.

Whatever this is that’s happening between us.

Oh. Us again. That word again, except this time it doesn’t land sweetly. This time it lands like a cup slipping from wet fingers.

Elías

What about us?

There’s a long pause, and I, doing my lovely mental gymnastics, think he’s trying to come up with an excuse.

Fabián

Like what do we do now?

Elías

It was sex, Fabi.

And texting.

And you’re saying ‘maybe you like me’ from inside a church. Not a damn marriage proposal.

Fabián

Lalo

Elías

What?

Fabián