Page 20 of Raspados & Regret

“You’re the one in my space.” I click my tongue.

“This is the trash bag.”

“And?”

“And you’re blocking it.” He huffs.

I look down, and I am, technically, blocking it.

Not that I move out of the way, which makes Fabián exhale loudly through his nose.

I look up at him over my glasses. “Problem?”

His eyes flick to my mouth again.

Oh… does the grumpy asshole wanna kiss me?

Or am I projecting.

Please let me be projecting.

Actually, don’t.

Shit. Do I want him to kiss me?

“Uh… you got some syrup on your face,” he says.

“I do?”

He nods and motions to my face. “There.”

I reach up, wiping near my cheek.

“Nah. You missed it.”

I wipe closer to my mouth.

“Not there either.”

“Then where?” I throw my hands down in the tub of water in frustration.

His hand lifts, then stops; fingers hover in the air between us, rough and faintly stained. Silver ring on his thumb. Short nails. Strong knuckles.

My breath catches, and Fabián’s eyes sharpen.

He heard it.

Or saw it.

Felt it.

Something.

Slowly, like he’s giving both of us time to be smarter, he touches the corner of my mouth with his thumb. My whole body goes quiet while he wipes syrup from my skin. It is barely a touch. Barely anything—but as his thumb drags once, warm and firm at the corner of my lip, my tongue ring presses behind my teeth because I’m biting down on every stupid sound trying to crawl out of me.

His gaze drops to his thumb.

Red syrup shines there, and he looks at it like he wants to lick it. I should make a joke about it, because that’s what I do. But I just stand there like an idiot while Fabián looks at the syrup, then at me.