“Oh, please. You look fine. Of course, he may notice that you’ve grown a few sizes since last night,” Lilly stated cautiously. “But guys are stupid.”
“Gee, thanks. I feel so much better.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
We had been plopped on the beach for almost an hour. Lilly was peacefully basking in the sun while Vince swam in the ocean and I adjusted my swimsuit again and again. My foot was bouncing uncontrollably and I could almost hear the second hand on my watch ticking.
“He’ll be here. Will you relax?” Lilly said, as she held her hand to her forehead to block the rays.
“I wasn’t thinking about him.”
I had already considered the idea that he might stand me up. His friends might not have told him about the plans or he could have decided not to meet us. He might have forgotten all about me, or he might have woken up this morning and decided he just didn’t want to see me again.
“No, you’re just posing on your towel and fixing your top for the benefit of Vince and me.”
“I’m not posing! I’m just uncomfortable. At home we usually bring chairs to the beach.”
“Oh, yeah. Back in Spring Mills . . .” Lilly droned.
“What? I don’t talk about home that much!” I screeched, kicking sand on her feet,
“Oh, really? Then how come I know that Madison wore a silver dress to her party and that some girl showed up in the same color, and that her cake looked like designer purses and that some movie star showed up and stole the show, and . . .”
“All right, all right! At least I don’t talk about it as much . . . anymore,” I defended, pushing my sunglasses up on the bridge of my nose.
“Fine, I’ll give you that. Plus, we now have my party to talk about! So, how awesome was last night?”
Surprisingly, I did think her party was awesome, even with the homemade food and plastic cups, and folding chairs and sweltering heat. It was probably the most fun I’d ever had and I barely knew a single person. No Emily, no Madison, just a bunch of relatives and complete strangers salsa dancing to Spanish music and enjoying each other without pretenses. As much as I loved my best friend, I doubted her Sweet Sixteen could have matched Lilly’s Quinceañera in atmosphere—Orlando Bloom or not.
“Ya know, it really was great.” I smiled.
“See, and you thought you were missing out back home,” Lilly said as she rolled over on her towel. “I can top a ritzy Sweet Sixteen any day.”
I chuckled and reached into Lilly’s beach bag. All she had was SPF 4 sun oil. It seemed that skin cancer hadn’t yet hit Puerto Rico and Lilly swore she didn’t burn (must have been some recessive gene I didn’t inherit). She packed the oil on my behalf, thinking it qualified as sun protection. Given that my freckled skin glowed a ghostly shade of white, I had no choice but to smear myself repeatedly in the only liquid available. My hope was that if I continuously reapplied, it would up its potency (like, could an SPF 4 become an 8 if I reapply it twice in thirty minutes; how about a 12 if I reapply once more after that?).
Thankfully it was cloudy, and the sun wasn’t blasting with nearly as much heat as usual. But it was still high noon and temperatures were probably in the upper eighties. If Alex didn’t get here soon, I feared I’d be a puddle of boiling water by the time he saw me.
“Here I come!” screamed Vince as he suddenly ran towards us dripping wet and shaking water like a grungy dog. “Dah-hhh !”
His hair whizzed back and forth, spraying us with a mist that actually felt kind of refreshing though I was kicking my legs and swinging my arms at him with full force. I wasn’t big on swimming in the ocean. The thought that I could drift out into a vast body of water and be unable to swim back was terrifying—and so was the seaweed. I hated not knowing what I was stepping on: shells, crabs, seaweed, jellyfish, hypodermic needles. Sure, the oceans here were crystal clear on a bad day, but it was still hard to wipe away fifteen years of Jersey shore experiences. I preferred to lie on the sand in peace just staring at the sea.
“Hey, it looks like your friends are here,” Vince said as he grabbed a pink-and-yellow towel from Lilly’s bag and wiped his face.
I spun around and saw two cars pulling up next to Aunt Carmen’s beat-up brown sedan. I bit my lip and looked away, trying to pretend it didn’t matter. When I glanced back, Alex and his friends were strutting toward us. He looked taller than I remembered, and his calves were skinny and hairy as they poked out of his black-and-gray board shorts. I immediately adjusted the wide band that ran along the bottom of my halter bikini top and glanced down to make sure nothing was peeking out that shouldn’t be.
“Hola, chicas,” Alex said as he approached, staring straight at me.
I watched his eyes scan me up and down.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hola, mi amor.” Lilly batted her mascara-caked eyelashes as she called Alex “her love.” I hoped she was kidding.
The guys immediately took turns kissing Lilly on the cheek before fighting for towel space as close to her as possible.
“Mind if I sit here?” Alex asked, as he unfolded his green towel beside me.
I shook my head.
“So this is your first day at the beach,” he stated matter-of-factly as he sat down.
“How’d you know?”
“Your tan needs a little work.”
“Uh!” I grunted. “Maybe I just like the pale look? I’m going for the whole ‘Nicole Kidman’ thing.”
“Sure you are.”
“Hey, I could be. Anyway, I think tanning is on its way out.”
“For who?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“For everyone. I’m calling for a comeback of the Renaissance era when fat women with pasty skin were all the rage.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “I like your body the way it is.”
“Oh, please. Did you practice that line?”
He looked at me with a crooked grin. There weren’t too many people who I could banter with so easily and I was glad that he was one of them.
“You have fun last night?” he asked, ignoring my dig.
“Of course. I had a blast.”
“You’re a great dancer.”
“Not at salsa,” I groaned, flicking my hand at him. “You’re just a great partner.”
“There you go again not accepting compliments.”
“Fine. Then let me thank you for complimenting my phenomenal dance skills. I believe you will see me popping up in salsa videos sometime very soon,” I teased.
“No, not videos. But I could see you on TV. Maybe on a soap opera.”
“A Spanish soap opera? Because I’ve been working on my dramatic pauses and you should see me slap someone across the face. Now there’s a talent I need to share with the world.”
Alex reached over and let his arm fall next to mine. He slowly inched his fingers toward me, and lightly brushed the sand off the back of my hand. My arms flooded with goose bumps. I looked at him, his dark eyes sparkling.
“You’re funny,” he said.
“Oh, wait. Let me be sure to accept the compliment. I don’t want to seem too American.”
Chapter 32
I never thought Spring Mills was so interesting, but a few hours after Lilly’s friends arrived they gathered around Vince and me dying to hear the details of our lives back in the States. They wanted to know what our house looked like, what classes we took, what music we liked and even what we did on weekends.
Vince had a ball telling them all about his friends’ mishaps while wasted, including his “monstrous kegger” (a story he now found funny, despite the fact that it kept him from going to Europe this summer). He even talked about his expectations for Cornell. They loved hearing about the climate in Ithaca, New York, and that it sometimes snowed in May. Most of Lilly’s friends had never seen snow (Lilly included), and had never felt the temperature drop below sixty degrees.
I, however, was staying out of it. I sensed stories of ballet camps and science projects would n
ot interest this crowd much. Only, I was wrong.
“So, Mariana, what would you be doing right now if you were back home?” asked Lilly’s friend Javier, as he scooted toward my towel.
Alex was seated as a buffer between me and his friends.We had been softly holding our own conversation while Vince babbled. I still couldn’t get over how easily our conversation flowed given how little we knew each other. Alex hung on my every word, he teased and wasn’t worried about causing offense. I was disappointed that I had to share him with the rest of the group.
“Well, I’d probably be hanging out with my friends,” I explained, letting my eyes slip from guy to guy.
There were four other boys present, aside from Alex, and they were all very good-looking. I sensed that Lilly was the Puerto Rican equivalent of a homecoming queen. “My best friend just had her Sweet Sixteen the other night.”
“Sweet Sixteen? That’s like a Quinceañera, right?” Javier asked.
“Yeah, but without the religious and cultural significance.”
“Well, my party had tons of significance, and dancing,” Lilly joked, but no one seemed to hear.
“Yeah, Sweet Sixteens are for a bunch of spoiled brats,” Vince huffed.
“Hey! Your friends had them too,” I defended.
“So, your friends are rich?” Javier asked.
I thought about that for a second. I had never considered my friends as rich, but compared to most people they probably were. They had huge suburban houses, four-bedroom shore homes, trips to Europe and the Caribbean, and enough cars to fill a few garages. But for some reason, none of these things ever consciously stood out to me as part of a social class. Categorizing someone as rich almost felt disrespectful, like you were betraying their privacy.
“Um, I guess so,” I explained. “Their parents work a lot—doctors, lawyers, whatnot.”
They all nodded like they understood, which amazed me. If they were speaking Spanish I probably wouldn’t understand half of what they were saying, but all of them seemed perfectly bilingual.
“I gotta say, my Spanish sucks and you all speak English like we do.You even use the same slang.”
“Well, Lilly and I go to school with kids from the States. And we do have TVs,” Alex pointed out. “But don’t let these guys fool you. They only understand about every third word you say.”
“Really?” I asked, looking at the group with my eyebrows raised.
“What?” Javier asked. “Are you talking about me?”
“See, I told you,” Alex teased, nudging me with his elbow.
“Wow, they’re pretty good at faking it because I totally thought they were bilingual geniuses,” I whispered.
“Me too,” Vince added.
Alex laughed. “I’m definitely not telling them you said that. Their egos are big enough.”
“Do you play sports?” asked Javier, unaware of the conversation we were having under our breath. Vince, Alex and I burst into giggles.
“What?” Javier asked innocently, unaware that Alex had blown his cover.
“Nothing,” I stated, shaking my head. “I dance ballet.”
“You’re a dancer?” confirmed another friend.
I nodded.
“That explains a lot,” Javier stated, tossing his hands in the air. “Usually tourists are terrible dancers, but you were good last night.”
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended.”
“It was a compliment. You’re a good dancer,” Javier repeated.
All of the guys nodded their heads and beamed in my direction.
“Did you hear that, Lil? They think I can salsa dance. Talk about crazy, right?” I joked, glancing at my cousin.
She was seated upright, her thin legs stretched before her and her stare focused on the ocean. She didn’t respond, which felt very uncomfortable because I thought I had spoken loud enough for her to hear.
“Mariana does not like to accept compliments,” Alex mocked, as he butted his shoulder against mine.
“Not that again,” I groaned.
“So what’s ballet like?” Javier asked.
“Have you ever seen it?”
“They wear skirts, verdad?”
“Yes, we wear skirts and tights. But there’s a little more to it than that. It’s the hardest type of dance there is.”
“Says who?” Lilly snapped, glaring at me through narrowed eyes.
“Um, I, uh, didn’t mean to offend anyone,” I stuttered.
I wasn’t sure what I had done to annoy Lilly, but I clearly wasn’t her favorite person at the moment. Whenever Madison or Emily used that tone with me, it meant they were angry. Only with them, I never really had to guess why. We weren’t that hard to figure out.
“I just meant that the technique required for ballet is more extensive than other dance styles. Most prima ballerinas have been training since they were, like, three years old. If you start at ten, you’re considered a late bloomer with no real future,” I explained.
I smiled at Lilly only she didn’t smile back. She silently returned her gaze to the ocean.
“So do you want to be a professional dancer?” Alex asked, his face a few inches from mine.
“Um, no, I doubt it. I’ll probably just go to college and get a normal job.”
When Alex and I gazed at each other from such a small distance, I found it hard to look him in the eye. I got the impression that Puerto Ricans didn’t have as many issues with personal space as Americans did. I preferred a buffer zone.
“Hey, Mariana?”Vince called as he rolled over. “You look kinda red. Do you have sunblock on?”
“The stuff Lilly brought,” I said.
Lilly’s head jerked toward me and her mouth fell open.
“¡Ay, mierda! You’re fried!” she hollered, clamoring to her feet.
I dropped my gaze toward my torso. Through my brown-tinted lenses it was hard to tell what color I was. I pressed my index finger onto my stomach and when I pulled it away, it left a pale halo that starkly contrasted with the surrounding flesh. I pulled at the edge of my bathing suit near my hip and saw a remarkably straight tan line that hadn’t been there a few hours ago and that should not have developed so quickly if it were just a “healthy glow.”
“Damn it,” I whispered, closing my eyes.
“Get up!” Lilly ordered as she extended her hand to help me to my feet. I quickly stood and shoved my toes into my flip-flops.
“We gotta get you outta here. Sorry guys,” Lilly said, as she gathered our towels and shoved them into her beach bag.
“Do you have to go?” Alex asked.
“Chico, she’s toast. The day is over,” Lilly replied.
By this point my face was as red as the rest of me out of sheer embarrassment. Here I was, trying to pass myself off as a somewhat cool person, and I end up proving just how much of a tourist I really was. I knew I would burn. I should have stayed in the shade or at least kept my T shirt on, but I was too worried about looking cute. If I saw a girl on the Jersey beaches surrounded by guys and burnt like a lobster, I would go out of my way to identify her to my friends so we could ridicule her together. I was such an idiot.
“I’m sorry, Alex. But I really should go.” I shrugged with defeat.
“It’s okay, I understand. I don’t want you to die on us,” he joked, as he stood up to face me. “It was fun hanging out with you today.”
He took a step, closing the gap between us.
It wasn’t exactly the most romantic moment, but I didn’t want him to move away. Part of me wanted to reach up and touch his face, but I didn’t have time to act. Lilly swiftly grabbed my hand and yanked me toward the car.
Chapter 33
Two days, countless aspirin, four cold showers, a dozen iced milk compresses, a bottle of refrigerated aloe vera, a few ice packs and some vitamin E cream later, I was still red. But the swelling had at least gone down and I hadn’t developed blisters, which I saw as a major positive. Two summers ago, my shoul
ders bubbled like melted cheese after I spent twelve hours at an outdoor concert, running through a mist tent with nothing but a tank top and one application of SPF 8. It took almost a week for the pain and oozing to subside.You would think I had learned my lesson.
“I have honestly never seen anyone burnt so badly as you are right now,” Lilly commented as she stared at my ruby legs.
“Really? This isn’t that strange to me,” I noted, as I smoothed another cool layer of green gel on my skin. It was sticky, smelly and a pure slice of heaven.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not as bad. It should start peeling soon.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“No, it’s fun. I like to see how big of a piece I can rip in one single peel. And it makes this cool sound as it comes off, kinda like cellophane.” I smirked at her.
“You realize that’s your skin you’re talking about? Eck!” Lilly stuck out her tongue and squeezed her eyes.
“But Lilly, you’re pale.You have freckles. Don’t you burn?”
“I did when I was little. I went to the beach with my parents when I was, like, eight and totally fried. But that was the last bad burn I remember. I guess my skin just got used to it,” she explained as she opened the refrigerator. “Want some leftovers?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not really.”
Due to my debilitating burn, I got a reprieve from my hotel duties and Lilly was appointed as my personal babysitter-slash-entertainer. In the past two days we had dissected every minute of her show-stopping Quinceañera, opened all of her birthday presents (mostly cash and gold jewelry), and written nearly fifty thank-you notes (I addressed the envelopes). The house had virtually returned to normal. Her father Juan dismantled the tent, her mom Angelica scrubbed the house, and Uncle Miguel tossed the garbage. Aunt Carmen did nothing but rest; she’d earned it. But we still had a refrigerator full of scraps—everything from ham to rice to the infamous soup.
My brother, however, was stuck at work. Vince checked in guests, carried their bags and stripped the beds. I was so on his bad side at the moment, despite the fact that he still found time to hit the bars with Juan and Alonzo—who were dying to see my now infamous sunburn—every night. At this point, the only person who hadn’t expressed interest in my flaming skin was Alex. I was now convinced I had blown our “attraction” out of proportion. If he liked me, he would have called. That’s what guys do.
Amor and Summer Secrets Page 14