Page 57 of Raspados & Regret

Black shorts.

The black shorts.

A four-inch inseam, maybe less, riding up his thighs like they have a personal vendetta against me. White tee tucked at the front. Silver chains. Silver hoops. Glasses and that slutty little tongue ring flashing when he looks up and smiles.

Not a big smile.

Worse.

A knowing one.

My hands tighten around the steering wheel, and that’s when I consider reversing. I could leave, but my tía would kill me. Then again, death might be the safer option at this point.

Elías lifts two fingers in a lazy little salute.

Fuck my life.

I park slowly, like a man driving toward his own bad decision with full awareness and no brakes. When I get out, the evening heat hits the strip of skin under my shirt. I close the truck door and turn. Elías is watching me, not hiding it one bit. His gaze starts at my Vans, climbs my Dickies, catches on my stomach, stalls on the happy trail, and then drags up to my chest, my throat, and my mouth. By the time his eyes meet mine, my pulse is already off rhythm.

His smile widens.

“The white one,” he says with a little smirk.

I slam my truck door harder than necessary. “The black shorts.”

He looks down at himself like he forgot. “Oh, these?”

“Don’t act stupid.”

“I’m not acting.”

“Finally, some honesty.”

He laughs and pushes away from the trailer, walking toward me like he has all the time in the world and none of the shame. That’s one of the many problems with Elías. He moves like everything belongs to him.

The booth. The market. The air.

My attention.

He stops in front of me, close enough that I can see one tiny silver ball on his tongue when he speaks.

“You look mad already.”

“I was having a good day,” I snort. “Then I saw you.”

“Liar.” He smirks. “You know I just made your whole ass week.”

I roll my eyes, moving to the back of my truck to grab the two bags my tío tossed in the bed.

Elías, not loving the fact that he’s not the center of attention at the moment, starts going off. “You’re the one who texted me before noon.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” I say. “Go on, keep talking. We both know you love the sound of your own voice.”

God, I’m being such an asshole, but this might be the only way I make it through today with him. If I don’t put some distance between us, I’m gonna end up bending him over some crates and catching a case because I fucked him in public. And let me tell you, that is not on my summer bingo card.

His eyes flick to my mouth. “That sounded like permission.”

“That was a warning.”