Page 37 of Raspados & Regret

Nice crop top btw, your slutty little stomach is having a moment.

My breathing changes again.

No.

No.

I just handled this, and I’m sure as fuck not going for round two in the shop bathroom like a man with no future. I shove my phone into my pocket and unlock the door, and the shop air hits me, hot and oily and real.

Good, reality. Cars, tools—normal things.

My tío looks up from the front desk as I walk out. His eyes narrow. “That was fast.”

I stop. “You timing me now?”

“Why you look all sweaty?” He asks, looking me up and down.

“It’s hot,” I snap back. “And that bathroom has practically no ventilation.”

“You better have sprayed, cochino.” He watches me for another second, then shakes his head and goes back to the invoices.

I walk to bay two, and my phone buzzes in my pocket. I’m gonna have to silence the damn thing if I want to get anything done today. It buzzes again.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

I exhale slowly and pull out the phone.

Lalo.Con.Limón

Don’t work too hard.

Wouldn’t want you overheating in that tiny shirt.

I stare at it, then, because I am weak and apparently suicidal, type back.

Fabi.Sin.Filtro

Why don’t you worry about the length of your shorts, Cárdenas.

His reply comes so fast it feels like he was waiting with his thumb over the keyboard.

Lalo.Con.Limón

Why?

Seems like you’re worried about them enough for both of us.

I don’t smile… Okay, maybe my mouth moves a little, but that is not my business.

From the front desk, my tío says, “Ay.”

I jerk forward and look up. “What?”

He points at me with his Sharpie. “You’re smiling.”

“Am not⁠—”

He smirks. “Sí, you are.”