Page 21 of Raspados & Regret

I hope my glasses are doing something useful. Then his mouth tightens, and he wipes the syrup on a napkin.

The spell snaps, and I breathe.

“Well,” I say, my voice coming out rough. “That was intimate.”

Fabián’s eyes cut back to mine. “It was just some syrup.”

“You touched my face.” I swallow and focus on his eyes.

“You had syrup on it.”

“You could’ve used words,” I smirk. “You know… direct me to it.”

“I tried. You failed.” He deadpans.

“So you had to manhandle me?”

His jaw shifts, and I see the word hit him.

Manhandle.

I shouldn’t have said it like that.

“You want me to apologize?” he asks.

“No.”

“Then what do you want?”

There it is—the question drops between us like a lit match.

What do I want? I want to keep poking at him until he snaps again.

I want to see if the silver in his nipples is as sensitive as it looks through the cotton. To hook a finger under the hem of that stupid crop top and follow that happy trail down with my mouth, which is not a normal thing to think about your enemy at a family market while your mother is somewhere buying earrings from a vendor named Crystal.

I want.

Too much.

Too him.

I take a step back and grab the spray bottle like it can save me.

“I want you to take out the trash,” I say.

Fabián stares at me, then he laughs. A rough sound under his breath, and he reaches around me, grabbing the trash bag and pulling it free from the can.

“Coward,” he says.

My face gets hot. “Excuse me?”

He ties the bag with one sharp tug. “You heard me.”

I step closer before I can think better of it. “You're calling me a coward?”

He leans down just enough to put us eye to eye. That close, I can see the sweat at his temples. The faint scar through one eyebrow. The tiny silver hoop in his ear. The dark stubble along his jaw.

His voice drops. “You got better hearing than me, don’t you?”