Page 16 of Raspados & Regret

“He’s always scowling.”

“Very—” she chokes on a laugh. “Scary.”

“And he thinks he’s better than everyone.”

“Does he, or does he just not talk much because he’s not you?”

I gasp. “Family betrayal.”

“You talk enough for three cousins and a mariachi band, Elías.”

“That’s called having charisma.” I roll my eyes.

She pinches my side and says, “That’s called having undiagnosed something.”

I point at the cups in her arms. “Stock those before I tell Julio you called him illiterate again.”

“He knows.” She starts walking backward, grinning. “And Lalo?”

“What?”

She nods toward Fabián again, but this time I refuse to look. “He’s not wearing those crop tops by accident.”

Then she disappears behind the trailer before I can throw anything at her. I definitely do not look at Fabián after that.

For at least eleven seconds.

Then I look, and he’s looking back, and the look on his face makes my stomach drop. Fabián’s eyes narrow, like he’s trying to figure out what I said. Or what Anita said. Or why I am standing here holding nothing with my glasses crooked and my soul trying to leave my body.

I straighten my glasses, and I catch him looking down at my hand. Then my mouth.

Then away, like he’s ashamed of himself. It is so quick I almost miss it.

Heat crawls up the back of my neck.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

I walk over because I have no self-preservation. “You need help?”

Fabián doesn’t look at me. “Nope.”

I sigh. “You always say no.”

“Usually means I don’t need help.”

“You sure? You’re sweating.”

“It’s hot.” He groans, but still grabs a towel and wipes his brow.

“Yeah.” I let my eyes drop, slowly. His crop top has fallen back down, but not enough. His jaw tightens when he notices me staring.

Beautiful—I mean irritating.

His tío suddenly clears his throat and holds out the canopy pole to me. “Here. Make yourself useful, Lalo. I need to get some water.”

I take it. “I am always useful.”