Page 69 of Raspados & Regret

For whatever this is.

He points at me, his finger shaking slightly. “Your dick’s still kinda hard.”

“I know.” I reach down to adjust myself as best I can.

He laughs again, bright and absolutely intoxicating.

I lunge, and he turns and runs the last few steps around the trailer, laughing like an idiot, and I follow slower because I refuse to look like I’m chasing him.

I am absolutely chasing him.

When we step back into the market lights, everything feels too bright.

Too loud and normal.

My tía looks up from the register and then freezes.

Her eyes go to me, then drift over to Elías. Then back to me, to Elías’s crooked glasses. Then my mouth.

Oh no.

She says nothing, and I think that might be worse than her just calling me out. Elías’s mother turns from the syrup table and does the same inspection.

She also says nothing.

Junior, who must have shown up when we were MIA, is sitting on a cooler near the back because apparently his ankle injury comes with a lifetime supply of uselessness. He looks between us, and slowly grins.

“No fucking way,” he whispers.

I point at him. “Don’t fucking say anything.”

His grin grows, and Elías steps beside me, shoulder brushing mine like he can’t help it or doesn’t care, like he wants everyone to know. With his voice low enough for only me to hear, warm and intimate and still rough from my mouth, he whispers.

“Subtle,” he whispers. “You know, if you were going for casual and unaffected, maybe don’t make it so fucking obvious.”

I stare at the line of customers forming again.

At the cups and the syrups.

The night market carrying on like my entire life didn’t just get shoved against a trailer and kissed stupidly, like I am not still hard, shaking, and tasting him on my tongue.

“I’m gonna regret this,” I mutter.

Elías smiles beside me, and this time, he doesn’t answer with “probably.”

He just says, “Yeah. But not yet.”

I look at him.

He looks back.

The booth lights catch in his glasses. His mouth is still swollen. My hands remember his hips, the heat of him, the way he said my name.

He’s right.

Not yet.

Definitely not yet.