by S. M. West
Part desolate, part captivated
Sophomore/Junior year
JARED
That kiss.
Fuck.
I’ve kissed a lot of girls in my sixteen years, some even women, and I’m not bragging, just saying it like it is. But never, and I mean never have I felt the way I do kissing Eva, holding her in my arms.
Maybe her mother dying had something to do with it. My heart breaks for her, and none of my bullshit mattered. And the moment our lips meet, girls before her were…fun. A release. Soft and sexy, nothing else.
But Eva.
Tearing my mouth from hers is hard. I couldn’t take advantage of her, not with her mother dying.
And just like that, for the first time ever, kissing a girl isn’t about getting into her pants.
It’s just a kiss, and it’s everything.
Our kiss is never-ending.
And when I look down at her, I almost lose it. Her coffee-colored eyes are heavy and shimmering, dark lashes wet from her tears. Lips swollen and pink.
I pull away, and a small moan escapes her mouth, part desolate, part captivated. Until now, I didn’t know what beautiful really is.
Eva is beautiful. And even at that, the word is inadequate and overused, and I mean it more about who she is inside than what she looks like outside.
My arms band tighter around her small frame, and something hot and possessive floods me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, let alone a girl, and it scares me.
The summer was rough without her, but when she came back, it seemed easier with her thousands of miles away. Despite all I’d told myself while she was gone—to stay away, she’d left me first—in the park, in the rainstorm, all I wanted was to hold her close.
“Are we still friends?” Her voice is timid, unsure.
“Yes.” I’d been stupid enough to think I could walk away from her, even though I still should.
She worries her bottom lip, and a warm gaze dives into the depths of mine, looking for any sign of…what? If I’m back? Crazy? Joking? All of the above?
“Did you work with Ike and Milo this summer?”
A slow grin skates along my mouth. So we’re moving on. I like it. “Yeah. And I’m sorry for being a dick.”
“I don’t understand why we weren’t talking in the first place. You knew I had to go but wanted to be here with you.”
“Yes, and I was an idiot. I missed you and while you were gone…”
Still petite, as is everything about her, she’d also filled out a bit. Her breasts are a little bigger and hips a little rounder. And her sweet tropical mango scent. When it hits my nostrils, I want to cling to her and never let her go.
“I worked for Milo and tried to stay clean.” I don’t mention the times I couldn’t because he threatened bodily harm if I pussied out. “You’re a good girl and I’m…I’m trouble. I’m not worth the trouble I could cause you.”
Her small hands frame my face. “No. You’re worth all of my time and more. Never forget that.”
I don’t have a comeback. Nothing has changed the way I think or what our lives look like. I mean, she’s a straight-A student, travelling to Spain to stay with her rich grandfather. I’m a foster kid with no future prospects, lucky if I get my high school diploma, and chopping up stolen cars to make a buck.
Yet with the death of her mother and having her in my arms, I can’t…no, I won’t leave her.
And for the days leading to the funeral, I’m there for her in any way I can be. Her father doesn’t make that easy, but I’m not letting a grumpy man stop me. He may not know it, but his wife asked me to take care of their daughter, and that’s what I intend to do.
The funeral is hard, and Eva’s a mess. Most days, she seems like herself, but there are moments when she’s lost, likely thinking about her mother or life without her. And she keeps her tears to herself, but that day—the day we bury her mother—she bares it all, and I ache to be by her side. My tiny girl, the wild one streaking down the street the very first day I saw her, is broken. Inconsolable.
And I can’t be by Eva’s side for it all. Her father won’t hear of it, and she doesn’t want to cause more stress. He isn’t able to move past his anger and grief to see that I can help his daughter.
I suppose it doesn’t help that her grandfather is here. That man makes Eva’s father look like a puppy, and I cringe just thinking of the way he treats her father.
Mr. Ramirez isn’t my favorite person, but I can’t help but feel for him. It’s clear to see that Eva’s grandfather blames him for his daughter’s death. And that makes no sense at all.
Sadly, we have more in common than the love of Eva. He treats me the same way his father-in-law treats him, and even the loss of his wife doesn’t ease his disdain toward me.
None of that stops me from being at the cemetery and church service. At times, I stand in the crowd and watch from afar, and at times, when Mr. Ramirez is too lost in his own sorrow to notice or care, I steal moments to talk to her and comfort her.
I hold her briefly, her slender body curls into me, and I whisper words of encouragement.
Yeah, that day is fucking hard for so many reasons. I also think of Molly, more so than I have in a while. Eva and I may be very different but we share this, the loss of our mothers.
It isn’t until we’re well into late November that things settle and we fall into a routine. With her mother’s passing, things have been better and worse.
Her father is even more strict and loses it if he thinks either of his daughters are venturing out. But with only one income, the man also works more hours than before. So he’s gone a lot.
When that happens, Eva insists I sleep in the small sewing room upstairs. I don’t do it often, concerned about what her old man will do to her if he ever discovers my sorry ass in his house.
Things aren’t easy or warm in her home, not like the brief times I was there when her mother was alive. The man hit Bianca. No surprise, their relationship took a nosedive that day and now Bianca does what she wants. If I could take Eva away from it all, I would. But I don’t have the means.
And through this all, something extraordinary happens. I’m still not sure how or when it happened—us.
Eva and I are tight. Friends. More than friends. In the middle of all the loss and sadness, it’s just understood. I’m hers and she’s mine.
Not much has changed except we see each other more, we talk, sometimes laugh and kiss. There’s lots of kissing. And if Eva needs me, I’m there. We spend hours with each other, holed up in the dingy, artificial playhouse in the park and sometimes at her house, if her father is working like tonight.
We have just eaten dinner and she’s distracted, more pensive than usual. I try to get her mind off things by asking tons of questions about her time in Spain. We haven’t talked about her time away. There hasn’t been the right moment with everything.
Her stories are fascinating and vivid, telling me all about the olive groves, the beaches, art and museums, and her weekends in Barcelona.
“I have something for you.” She fishes out a photo album and something small from a canvas bag. Her fingers curl over the little box. “Remember the forget-me-nots?”
I nod, my throat suddenly dry. To most, flowers shouldn’t be a big deal, but they were for me. I’ve never done anything like that before for anyone. I’m both intrigued and nervous.
“I pressed part of the bouquet into a couple of books and took them with me.” Like she said she would. “I had you with me the whole time, and I wanted to do something with them. Something for both of us—so when at La Rambla in Barcelona, I met an artist and asked her to make this for you.”
She’s already told me all about the famous street in the city, which is bustling, filled with shops, flower stands, art, and attractions. Her fingers tremble as she removes the lid of the small box and hands me a guitar pick.
But not just any pick. These are clear plastic with a pressed forget-me-not, the pretty bl
ue flower with a yellow center, flattened in the middle.
The box holds easily half a dozen of them. She pushes the box toward me.
“What do you think?”
“These are…great.” I flip the pick between my thumb and finger, turning it repeatedly. “No one has ever done anything like this for me.”
“I wanted to get something you’d use but also think of me. And I did this for me.” She grabs her house keys and lifts a small translucent square, maybe bigger than a stamp, with a pressed flower inside, attached to a key chain.
“Jared, I never forgot you. I thought about you every day.”
A wave of heat tingles up my spine, and something large forms in my throat at her confession.
“I love this.” I love you tangles my tongue. “Thank you.” Leaning in, I plant a soft kiss on her silky cheek, and her face flushes as she leads me into the living room.
We sit side by side on the sofa, flipping through a small photo album, and I stop at an image of her fifteenth birthday.
Usually Eva is back home in time for her birthday, but this year because it was her Quinceañera, which isn’t customary in Spain but a big deal in the US and to her father, her grandfather insisted on throwing a big party and sparing no expense. He even paid for her parents to come to Spain for a few days before they all returned home to Los Angeles.
“Who’s this guy?” I frown.
She’s standing in a long party dress, more like a gown, and it looks expensive. Almost princess-like. She’s beautiful and looks way older than fifteen. Next to her is a slightly taller, definitely older, boy. Bronze skin, dark brown eyes and hair. He’s holding her hand and staring at Eva.
I know the look. It’s the way I look at her—like he needs her to make his heart beat or for air to move through his lungs. He needs her to live.
“Oh, that’s Miguel. His father works for my grandfather. We see him every summer.”
My frown deepens, settling into a scowl, and she flips the page, glancing up at me. “What’s wrong?”
“You see him every summer?” She nods, and I try to soften my gaze. “Did you two ever…I mean, did he ever try anything? Like make a move on you?”
“No. We’re friends, silly.” She bats her hand in the air as if shooing away a pesky fly and returns to the pictures.
My stomach cartwheels at her easy dismissal, oblivious to his intent, or in my case, the threat he poses. At least he’s in Spain and she’s here, beside me.
“Sounds like you had a great summer.” I push my back into the cushion, widening my legs.
“It was okay. It would have been great if you had been there.” Her expression is solemn.
I drape an arm over her shoulder, and she relaxes into my chest, resting her hand flat on my stomach. My muscles twitch, the heat of her touch marking me.
“I’m glad you’re no longer at the Garcias’.”
I sleep in my Jeep, the heap of junk Milo gave me, and only use the house to shower and do laundry. And since the night she told me about her mom, I’ve started going to school again. No need to fuck up my future, especially if Eva’s back in it.
“Yeah. Me too.”
“I wish you would stay here. Papi isn’t around most nights, and we know his schedule so we could work around it.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. If he found out, you’d be in big trouble and I don’t want to cause you any. I’m not worth the risk, Eva.”
“Yes. You. Are.” She glares, balling her tiny fists.
“Easy, tiger.” I lightly kiss her forehead. “Besides, what about Bianca? Won’t she have something to say about me staying here?”
“She doesn’t care.”
“That may be true, but Tito might get ideas.”
“What?” Her hands now lie flat on my chest, chin on top, and she peers up at me.
I want to kiss her again. But I can’t give in to the temptation. She needs to listen to reason, and believe it or not, I’m the voice of reason in this case.
“What’s stopping her from having her boyfriend over while your dad is away?”
A slow, sly grin dances on her lips. “Boyfriend? Does this mean you’re my boyfriend?”
Rolling my eyes, I shake my head and chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what I am, and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”
I squeeze her waist and she squirms, rubbing her soft, warm body against mine, giggling.
“I like the sound of that.”
“Me too.” I cup her face and bend my head to press my lips against hers.
And we kiss and kiss and kiss. I could spend all day kissing Eva. Just being with her like this.
We’re going slow. I’ve never done slow before, but with her I’ll do anything. Needing to catch my breath, I break our kiss and rest my forehead on hers, inhaling deeply.
I drink in the scent of her, her tropical skin and hair. And like me, she gulps in air as her eyes blink open, staring at me. First heated and sultry, then shifting to something uncertain or concerning.
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and instinctively, my thumb tugs on her plump flesh, releasing it from her bite.
“What is it?”
“Please tell me you’re done with Milo.” Her voice is soft. “I know Ike’s your best friend, and I’d never tell you to stay away from him—”
“I won’t.” My tone is harsher than I intend, and my head pulls back from hers, more out of frustration at myself than any desire to be far from her.
She sucks in a breath, tripping over her words. “I w-w-asn’t…”
“I’m sorry, it’s just…” My hands still cradle her head and my fingers thread through her thick hair, holding her head close to mine. “He’s my best friend. I’m done with Milo, but I’ll never be done with Ike.”
“I know, and I’d never ask that of you. I just worry. What he’s involved in is dangerous and illegal. It isn’t the life you want, is it?”
“No, I want more.”
I want a life with you.
I can’t say that to her, even if I wish I could. Hitching herself to me isn’t good for Eva. She has so much to offer and many opportunities lay in front of her. I’ll only hold her back.
As Christmas approaches, Eva’s father threatens to send his daughters to Spain and not just for the holiday, but permanently. Thankfully, he’s full of shit.
Christmas is the best I’ve had in forever. Molly knew how to celebrate holidays and birthdays, making all of them amazing, but that seems like another life.
My plan had been to get some time alone with Eva over the holidays, maybe even for the night, like a hotel. Not for anything more than spending time together, just the two of us. But the closest we got was the park.
Despite not being able to escape for a night, she said I made the first Christmas without her mother special. There were times when she was quiet and reflective, and once or twice I caught her crying, but we made new memories.
I gave her a picture of the two of us her mother had taken and put it in a cool wooden frame—I got one for me too. I also promised to teach her how to drive as soon as she got her learner’s permit. I wanted to give her more, but I’m not exactly flush with cash.
She made me a gigantic bouquet of snacks, all my favorite things, because I’m always hungry, and she gave me supplies to write music and songs.
Yeah, we had an amazing Christmas.
We burn through the rest of the school year, and in so many ways, I wish I could stop time. This year was a mixture of phenomenal highs as Eva and I grew closer and dreadful lows with loss and sadness. I miss Mrs. Ramirez and can only imagine how Eva feels at times.
And now school is over and summer is here. Eva’s going to Spain and I’m sick to my stomach.
What if her father ships her off for good?
My gut roils and nausea stirs. I don’t even want to think about the possibility of losing Eva. Her father is a pain in my ass, but he’s not a fool. Mr. Ramirez works too much, and this affords
his daughters free rein. He knows Tito and I are very much in the picture.
Guilt gnaws at my insides. She’s a good girl. A rule follower and I’m corrupting her. She sneaks me in and out of her house so I can sleep in a bed. And on top of that, she’s lying to her father. She loves him and feels guilty for what her mother would say if she were here. I’m not forcing or asking her to do any of this, but even still, it goes against who she is.
And I’m guessing her father knows all of this. If it wasn’t for his animosity for Eva’s grandfather in Spain, I’m certain she would already be halfway across the world. As if that isn’t enough to worry about, things are tense with Ike. He’s pressuring me to work for Milo this summer. As much as I could use the money, I won’t break my promise to Eva.
I’m working at a pizza joint, Romano’s, and while the money is nowhere near what I made last summer, I’ve also got the band. We’ve got paying gigs now, although I’m not sure how long that will last. Half of the guys say they’re done with the band once they graduate. I’m not sure where that leaves me or my music.
“This is for you.” In the park, I hold out the flowers to Eva. “So you don’t forget me.”
Her flight to Spain is tonight, and we’re doing the goodbye thing again. This fucking sucks.
She laughs, tilting her head back further to lock gazes with me. “Never going to happen. Thank you.”
Her lips kiss mine before moving to the side of my face and neck. Her tongue laves at the hint of stubble on my chin and her teasing sends electric shocks through me, curling my toes. Teeth nip at my flesh and I moan, both excited and frustrated.
“Eva, we gotta stop. You have to go.” Every word out of my mouth is a dagger to my heart.
Stopping is the last thing I want to do. If I could take her away, stop her from getting on a plane, I would.
She groans, planting a kiss to my neck and keeping her lips against my skin. Her warm breath strokes me, and I swear I might combust.
“Eva, I will miss you.” My lips find hers in a long, deep kiss. “I love you.”