American Sweethearts

by Adriana Herrera

  I laughed softly and shook my head. “Nunca.” Seeing their land would never ever get old for them. For us either, if we were honest.

  Suddenly I felt a strong, rough hand gripping mine and time stopped, as the plane finally touched the tarmac. I should’ve pulled it back, but as I sat there and cheered as we always did when we landed home, I let J’s touch be part of the moment.

  “Landing in style. Que cache.” That was my dad trying to make us all laugh. “Rafa, who could’ve told us we’d be flying in a private jet, mano?”

  “If anyone was going to figure out how to get himself a billionaire from DR it would be Camilo.” That was Patrice, and we all lost it then.

  This was going to be a good week. There was too much good to celebrate for anything to mess it up. As long as I kept my shit together and didn’t land on Juan Pablo’s dick. And because that motherfucker could read my mind, I felt his breath right by my ear as the captain told us that we should be arriving at the private gate soon.

  “You feeling more relaxed? Ready for nonstop family time?”

  I wasn’t sure why his perfectly reasonable questions sounded like a lascivious offer, but I could feel a bead of sweat forming at the base of my back. I almost shook my head, marveling at the fact that Juan Pablo Campos still had that effect on me. Thankfully our parents were all half drunk and raring to get out of the plane, so no one noticed our little private moment.

  I looked around and Juan Pablo’s eyes on me were...blistering. But we were having none of that.

  “No bullshit, Juan Pablo.”

  That grin was the one I knew meant he saw right through my protests.

  “No BS, Morena.” He crossed his thumb over his index finger and brought them up to his lips. “Promise.”

  Him using the nickname that only my family ever used should’ve annoyed me, but it just made me ever more flustered. Fuck, why was it always like this?

  I could fool myself and act like none of it felt good or familiar. Tell myself that being here with everyone I loved was not just a little better because Juan was here, but I’d be a fool. And a liar. I’d be doing what I always did: pretending that he was not getting under my skin with every word.

  “No BS. I will keep you to it, Juan Pablo Campos. Nobody needs our mess this week. We’re here for Milo and Tom. No games, please.”

  Something about the way it came out made his expression change. Suddenly all playfulness was gone, and I hated myself a little for causing that.

  “I’ve never played games with you. But I promised you something the last time and I don’t plan to go back on my word.”

  There it was, the words I’d wanted. He was giving me what I’d asked for. But as I stepped onto the hangar, feeling the sea breeze running through the rafters, and as Juanpa hung back with the others, I wished I’d kept my mouth shut.

  Chapter Three

  Juan Pablo

  “Ma, hurry you’re gonna make us late.” It was way too early for anything that required this level of energy. We were rushing to get on some sort of limo-bus thing getting ready to head out to a morning tour to some famous caves about an hour from the hotel. Since arriving last night, we’d been on some sort of Instagram dreamscape: Camilo’s fiancé had rented out an entire boutique hotel for the week. The whole wedding party and our families were staying there and the place was pretty swank. We’d had an insane seafood dinner waiting for us when we arrived and everyone had turned in early, so we’d be ready for the tour.

  Things with Priscilla and I had cooled off significantly after we’d landed, but I hadn’t been in my head too much about it. This wasn’t the Juan Pablo and Priscilla show after all, we were here for Camilo.

  “Are those mimosas?”

  I rolled my eyes as my mother gaped at the clear plastic cups that Patrice and Nesto’s mom were drinking from. “No, Ma, it’s just OJ. You don’t want to get to those caves all dehydrated, do you? We’ll have plenty of cold bubbly waiting for us when we get back.” My mother nodded, not looking a hundred percent convinced that there wasn’t a bottomless mimosa situation on the bus.

  Nesto grinned and leaned down to give my mother a peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Irene, you’ll get your drink on soon enough. It’s been like this since we got here. Milo’s really getting the hang of spending Tom’s money, because the flex is real.” I laughed at the awe in Nesto’s voice. He’d been at the hotel for a few days already, working out the details for the food at the reception and the rehearsal dinner. Nesto ran his own successful Afro-Caribbean restaurant in Upstate New York and Camilo and Tom had asked him to help them come up with the perfect Afro-Caribbean fusion menu for the wedding.

  It was still sort of unreal that my three best friends were coupled off, getting married, engaged. It all felt so fucking grown-up. Seeing Patrice in love and not afraid to show it, Camilo actually getting his fairy-tale love and Nesto living his dream with Jude up in Ithaca...it was the greatest gift. But also a reminder of what I didn’t have.

  I looked over at Priscilla, who was busy chatting with Jude and Easton and I wondered if, like me, she was thinking that the two of us should’ve figured it out already. I felt like I’d spent half my life certain I was meant to be with her and the other half trying to figure out why we never seemed to work.

  I was still mulling it over when I was flanked on either side by Nes and Patrice, who probably saw me sulking by myself in the back row, and came to do a welfare check.

  “You looking like a Drake video back here, my guy.” That was Nesto. Asshole.

  I pursed my lips while they grinned at me. “Fuck off, I’m just chilling and wondering how it is that Camilo’s still running my life. Why are we up so damn early? We’re supposed to be on vacation.”

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong. We’re here to be at Milo’s beck and call and y’all know he’s going to ride our asses all fucking week.” Patrice grunted in agreement as he spanned his freakishly long and beefy arms over the entire back row.

  When he finally spoke, he could barely keep the grin off his lips. “You think with the way Tom looks at him that the guy would be fucking some of that edginess out of him, but that fucker just can’t stop bossing people around.”

  Nesto just shook his head and laughed at Patrice and, even as moody as I was, I had to crack a smile.

  “Speaking of dick related issues.” Nesto paused, his eyes trained right where my mom was chatting it up with Pris and her dad. “You gotta stop with the glaring, pa. I thought you said you were keeping things chill with Priscilla.” There was just a hint of an edge there and I knew that was Nesto’s protective side. Looking out for his cousin.

  I let out a long breath and rubbed my hands over my face, hard. “I’m trying, Nes, but I don’t know what’s gotten into me on this trip. Since I saw her getting on the plane yesterday, it’s like I can’t get my head straight. I swear I’m not looking to start up something with Pris.”

  I winced even as I said it. “I mean, at least not anything that she’s not up for. I promised myself I wouldn’t mess with Pris unless she made the first move.” I glanced at Nesto, whose face for once was devoid of emotion. I knew I always put him between a rock and hard place whenever shit with me and Pris started up over the years. “I fucked up with her last time and I don’t plan to miss my shot if she gives another one, but I’m not starting anything. And even if I was, I would not do it here where I have the entire peanut gallery ready to take a bite out of me.”

  That at least got me a laugh.

  “I’m not going to begrudge for biding your time, I know I would’ve waited an eternity for a chance to make things right with Jude.” Nesto gripped my shoulder hard and settled in the seat next to mine as he looked up at where his partner was in deep conversation with Nurys, Nesto’s mom. “I’m glad I didn’t have to, but I know what it’s like to know in your gut that everything you ever wanted slipped
through your fingers because of your own stupidity.”

  I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of that hard truth, not wanting to get into any of this. Pris and I had a moment on the plane, but that didn’t mean I had free rein to step up to her and ask for things. Like Nesto said, she was worth me waiting for her to be ready, and I would have to learn how to live with the possibility that she may never feel ready again.

  * * *

  “Are you coming?” I must’ve dozed off despite all the chattering in the limo-bus because the next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes to the vision of Priscilla Yudelka Gutierrez leaning over me in a halter top. She was offering me a view I was not equipped to deal with at that exact moment.

  I quickly leaned back and made a show or rubbing my fists over my eyes. “I’m coming. Did those two clowns really leave me back here?”

  Pris gave me a funny look and angled her head toward the front of the bus. “Patrice and Nesto told me to come get you. They jumped out to go to the bathroom before we go down to the caves.”

  Yeah, right. Knowing those two they were probably up to something.

  “The bus driver is getting our tickets and the guide that’s showing us around, so there’s no rush.” She pointed out of the window where most of our group was standing around by the bus chatting and passing around snacks and water bottles.

  I looked around, trying to get my shit together. I grabbed the small backpack I’d brought with me and my Yankees fitted and stood up, just in time to watch her walk out of the bus. I got a full view of her strong, dark brown back and shoulders. Her shorts hugged her ass so tightly I didn’t have to try very hard to remember how it felt to hold on to those curves as I pushed into her.

  I literally had to shake myself under control as I followed her out. After all these years, Priscilla’s body and the way she moved turned me on like nothing else could. I knew exactly where a soft touch made her purr and where my teeth could make her scream. She could do the same for me. But like I’d told Nesto and Patrice, I was going to keep my hands and thirst to myself this week.

  The cave turned out to be pretty cool. It was a huge system of underwater tunnels with hundreds of Taino paintings and hieroglyphs. It was sort of unreal to see signs that there actually had been people here before colonization razed through everything. I was walking around looking at some of the lit drawings, taking a breather from the group, when I felt her come up behind me. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Priscilla, I could recognize even the sound of her fucking feet.

  “You’re worrying the mothers, Juan Pablo. They sent me to find you.” I could hear the grin in her voice. No matter how old we got, all our moms regressed to when we were in elementary school whenever we travelled together.

  “I’ll be right there, just needed a minute.”

  “The hovering and micro-managing every move is already getting to me. You should’ve seen Mami telling me how to open a water bottle just now. Because apparently Dominican water bottles twist different.” The exasperation in her voice did nothing to hide the humor.

  “Did Papi try to read the signs in English for you?” I asked, and could tell she was laughing from the way she was huffing. “They hammer Spanish into us our entire lives and as soon as we get here they start acting like they need to translate every word.” I turned around and found her sporting a grin that perfectly matched mine.

  She shook her head, shoulders still shaking from laughter. “They can’t help themselves, they get too excited.”

  “I know, which is why I took a moment to myself before impaling myself on one of those rock spikes.”

  “They’re stalagmites.” I rolled my eyes while she grinned.

  But after a moment she went back to observing me with a very serious look on her face. She even raised an eyebrow, like she was figuring something out. She came closer, looking at me with an intensity that I hadn’t gotten from her in a long time. Detached and indifferent had been the vibe with her and me, at least for the last few years.

  That shit was dangerous, because with me, Priscilla did not have to look very hard to see everything. When she finally spoke we were so close that I felt the hem of her linen shorts brushing against my legs.

  “So instead of mouthing off, you walked over here to cool off.” The incredulity in her voice almost pissed me off, but I took a deep breath and nodded. She was right—this was not my typical approach. I could let my stress or exhaustion turn me into an asshole sometimes, but I’d been working on not letting that shit get out of hand.

  “I’ve learned to dial it back. People can change, Priscilla.” As soon as I said it, I wondered if I’d made a mistake, but the sneer or dismissal I’d expected never came. Her eyes so focused on me I almost felt them burning my skin.

  “People can change, you’re right about that, Juan Pablo. The trick is wanting to.”

  I could tell myself I got closer on instinct, without thinking, but I didn’t. I moved because I wanted to kiss her, and the way she pushed into me, I knew she felt the same way.

  I could just let go, lean down to close the few inches between our lips and kiss her, remind her of how good it always was with us.

  My hands trembled with the anticipation of touching her, and when I looked at her I knew she was barely containing her own need to reach out. But I’d promised myself that if I ever got the chance, I’d do this differently. That I would not fall into the same patterns with Priscilla again. I’d promised myself, my friends, and her, even if she didn’t know.

  So, I took a deep breath and stepped back. My shoulders tight with the tension of not going in for a kiss. “We should go back to the group—you know the parents must be about to send a search and rescue for us.”

  She didn’t move, taking her time to assess me, like she was seeing me for the first time. “What’s up with you?” Her tone wasn’t so much hostile, just baffled. Like she really could not figure out what was going on with me.

  “We’re good.” I tipped my chin in the direction of the group. “Let’s get going.”

  I’d leave the question open, because I wasn’t sure either of us could answer it right now.

  Chapter Four

  Priscilla

  “I thought my folks were a little over the top, but Tom has them beat. Are those entire lobsters on that lunch buffet?”

  I rolled my eyes at Easton’s delighted tone. You’d think a guy who was, for all intents and purposes, heir to a world-famous vineyard would not be fazed by free seafood. But this was just one of the reasons why Easton was forever invited to the cookout.

  I laughed as I pointed at the dozen grilled prawns on his plate. “Damn, East, you really have been hanging out with my family too long. You won’t be able to eat all that.”

  “For your information,” he said, haughtily pointing at the end of the pier that was part of the beachfront hotel restaurant. “I got some for my man too. He went to grab us one of those lanais. These views are really spectacular.” We both turned to look at the white sandy beach and turquoise water. The lanais in question were lined along the pier. They looked like big four-poster beds covered on all sides with gauzy fabric that fluttered in the ocean breeze. I took a moment to appreciate the beauty of my parents’ homeland and wondered once again what it would’ve been like to grow up in a place like this. Where everything just beckoned you to slow down and play. To not be so focused on the next thing. Easton’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts and when I looked up the smile on his face got me out of my fretting. “Come on, babe. Patrice is over there shirtless and horizontal.”

  I had to laugh. “You’d think after a year your thirsty ass would’ve calmed down about Patrice’s dick, but I guess that’s not happening anytime soon,” I teased, as we made our way down the wooden boardwalk.

  He just shook his head, eyes trained on the man in question. “If anything, it’s worse.” He laughed and I marveled at
the lightness in his voice. No reservation, no doubts.

  “God, this place is pretty.” I grunted in agreement as Easton admired the view.

  I’d been coming to the DR my whole life and had stayed in pretty gorgeous beaches and hotels, but this shit was next level. Dominican beaches were world-class, there was no question about that, and Juan Dolio was a stunner. You could walk until the water was up to your neck and still see your feet; that was how white the sand was and how clear the water. Except my dumb ass was not paying attention to any of it. My head was still stuck on Juan Pablo’s vibe at the cave.

  I’d pushed and gotten close, half-expecting him to jump on it. Do something to give me an excuse to take things further, but he hadn’t. He’d kept his hands to himself. I needed to do the same. Was I little taken aback by the fact that Juan Pablo didn’t even try to leer or say something ridiculous when it was just the two of us in that cave?

  Of course.

  But I wasn’t going to be the one to play games either. The last time we’d tried, things had gone up in flames and I swore I would not be the one to break. So far I wasn’t doing super great at it, but I wasn’t cracking either.

  When we got to the lanai we passed around plates of food and drinks. There were four huge chaises that could probably fit four people each, but of course the couples had already commandeered three of them. Jude and Nesto were literally feeding each other ceviche in one, Easton dropped his ass on the one Patrice was clearly saving for him and no one else, and Camilo and Tom were on another one. That left the fourth one, where one Juan Pablo Campos was chilling, a cold Presidente in his hand.

  For fuck’s sake, how was I supposed to get through this fucking week with that man looking like an entire fucking meal? He was wearing his usual tight swim trunks and Ray Ban aviators...with a Yankees fitted on his head. He’d been picking on a plate of tostones and fried fish, and his lips were just a tiny bit greasy. The way my stomach dipped just from the thought of leaning in and licking it off should’ve been the first sign that I was in real fucking trouble.