I woke up the next morning in a sweltering heat, drenched in sweat from head to toe. It saturated my clothes and the sheets, even my pillow was damp. I pushed my sweaty hair back off my forehead and climbed out of bed. My tiny room felt like an oven.
I opened my door, hoping for some relief, but the rest of the trailer was just as hot.
I trudged down the short hall to the living room. My mother sat in one of our dining chairs next to the open front door, fanning herself with a piece of junk mail. She tugged on the collar of her shirt to create an inconsequential draft.
"Why is it so hot in here?" I asked.
She looked up and blinked a few times, as if I'd broken her out of a daydream. She let out a heavy sigh. "Those damn Hoffman kids crashed their dirt bike into the power converter at the end of the road."
"The power is out?" I looked around, finally noticing that none of the lights were on. Not even the digital clock on the stove that perpetually read 12:00. "How long before it's back?"
"I'm sure the power company will get right on it." She sounded more than a little sarcastic.
I understood her meaning. The trailer park at the edge of town was hardly a priority for anyone. Until it came time to locate a suspect for some local crime. Like the graffiti that kept popping up on the sidewalks downtown when I was a freshman in high school. Although that ended up being the mayor's son, pissed off because he got community service for throwing an unauthorized party on the roof of city hall. Anyone else who broke into a government building after hours and provided alcohol for half the high school would have been sent to juvie.
"Shit!" I clasped my hands on top of my head, reminding me of how sweaty I was. "I have to shower for work."
"The water is still working, hon. But it ain't gonna be hot." She laughed bitterly. "But, hey, at least you might get cooled off."
I groaned and stomped back to my room to collect some clothes. Cold or not, I had to take a shower. I couldn't go into work all sweaty and gross. Especially not with Elian making daily drop-ins.
In the bathroom, I used my phone's flashlight in order to see in the pitch black room. The blue-white glow threw shadows across my face. I skipped shaving, since I didn't want to knick myself, or miss a patch of hair in the dark.
After brushing my teeth, I turned to the shower. Reluctantly, I twisted the tap. I didn't bother with the hot, since it wouldn't affect the temperature. Taking a few deep breaths, I psyched myself up before jumping under the stream of frigid water. I screeched out a curse.
By the time I got out, I was shivering all over, my teeth chattering. I hurriedly dressed and rushed out the front door, past my mom. I still had four hours before my shift, but I didn't want to hang around and get sweaty again.
Thankfully, my beat up, hunk of junk Jeep had air conditioning to give me a reprieve from the heat. When I checked the rearview mirror, I noticed my sloppy hair. I thought about what Elian said the other day.
Using my fingers in place of a comb, I arranged my hair into something more styled. It didn't look half as good as when he did it. So far, he hadn't mentioned that I'd taken to combing it this way since he suggested it. But maybe he would eventually notice and appreciate the effort one of these days.
Since I had nothing better to do, I drove into town. I thought I'd wander around for a while. Maybe grab breakfast from the cafe across from the pharmacy.
Down the street, Elian walked directly toward me. Sunglasses concealed his eyes, so I couldn't tell if he'd seen me, too. He wore a pale blue tank top that looked great against his golden brown skin. It had a much looser fit than most of the other shirts I'd seen him in, but that didn't detract from his amazing arms.
I had a dream last night that he was holding me so tightly, my body pressed against his. He kissed me andâ
I pushed the thought away. My shorts were not conducive to reliving sex dreams on a public street in the middle of the day. Especially when the subject of those dreams was waving at me.
Think about something else. Literally, anything else.
A list of disgusting things that made me sick and would most definitely stop arousal in its tracks:
1) The gross trash bins out behind the pharmacy that made me gag if I walked within two feet of them.
2) The nauseating combination of old sweaty socks (and jocks), B.O. laden gym clothes that rarely got washed, and mildew that permeated the boys' locker room at my old high school.
3) Broccoli. Enough said.
4) That time my best friend Derek took me to the country club his family belonged to, and I saw that old man walking around the sauna buck naked, save for his shower shoes, without a care who saw his flabby, saggy ass. Not what I hoped for my first glimpse of a naked man in real life, I must say.
Elian cracked a smile as we drew closer to each other. "Hey, Steven!"
Every time he said that I heard that Taylor Swift song playing in my mind, then I'd have that damn infectious humming in my head all day. Derek actually recorded a cover of that song for my sixteenth birthday. He changed all the pronouns from female to male to make it gay for meâhis words, not mineâbecause I told him I couldn't find many songs I liked by male singers who sang about falling for other guys. Especially ones that weren't angsty as hell. He did the same with a dozen other songs by my favorite artists. It helped that Derek had a fantastic voice, so I could listen to the recording and actually enjoy it.
"Hey," I replied, offering a lame wave.
"You going to work?" He pointed his thumb over his shoulder to the pharmacy, two doors down.
I shook my head. "Just killing time before my shift."
"How long you got?"
I fished my phone from my pocket and checked the time on the screen. I already knew it was almost four hours before I had to clock-in; I don't know why I bothered to check.
When I told him, his smile widened. I could see myself in the reflection of his knock-off Ray-Bans, smiling like an idiot.
"I was thinking about grabbing breakfast," he said. "Do you wanna join me?"
My entire body felt like it was paralyzed and trembling at the same time. I forced myself to give a very shaky nod. "Y-Y-Yeah. Sure."
"The lady at the gas station told me that place across the street has the best food in town."
"It does."
"Great!" Elian said. "I've mostly been surviving on Doritos, frozen pizza, and Pop Tarts since I got here. I'm dying for some actual food."
As we crossed the street, Elian took me by the arm, without a second's hesitation, as if we'd known each other forever and not a grand total of nine days. I stared down at his arm linked with mine. For all I knew, he could be walking me into oncoming traffic. And I couldn't care less.
His tawny skin looked much darker next to my pasty, freckled complexion. Despite my twenty years of living in a desert town, I'd barely been able to get my skin even one shade darker. Not for lack of trying. I didn't tan in the sun like so many of my friendsâor my mom, for that matterâI just burned and peeled. After the redness subsided, I might be a bit beige for a week or two, but mostly I just gained more freckles. To look at me, most people would think I never set foot outside. But I actually loved being outdoors. More specifically, I loved going to the desert on a clear night to watch the stars. That was my favorite thing about living where I did. I think it's the only thing I'd actually miss about this place. That and my mom.
I looked up at the sounds of the jingling bellsâa habit from my time at the pharmacy, I guess. Without releasing my arm, Elian had opened the door and was holding it for me. "After you."
The corner of my mouth quirked up. "Thanks."
The sign inside the door instructed us to seat ourselves. Elian claimed a booth next to the picture window at the front of the cafe, sliding his sunglasses up to sit atop his head, giving me my fix of those gorgeous hazel eyes.
Each table was topped with a chrome napkin holder, salt and pepper shakers, bottles of ketchup and steak sauce, and a tiny vase with a single fake yellow daisy.
Elian rubbed the silk petals between his thumb and index finger. "This place is cute." His head slowly pivoted as he examined the interior. It had a whole daisy motifâprinted on the curtains, adorning the plates, painted on the walls. Probably because the restaurant was called The Daisy Chain Cafe. I'd never understood what daisies had to do with cafes, but their food was great, so I didn't much care.
"Do you think whoever named this place knows it's a euphemism?" Elian asked.
"Is it?"
He chuckled. "Yeah."
"For what?"
He stared at me with a glint in his eyes. "Let's just say it's a group activity where everyone helps out their neighbor."
My face went nuclear. I could practically feel heat radiating off my cheeks. I was surely neon red. And he was just sitting there staring at me with that sexy grin.
I grabbed the menu wedged behind the napkin holder, even though I ordered the same thing every time I ate breakfast here. I mostly used the menu as a partition to block the curious glances being thrown our way from the other customers. About a dozen or so, all of them fascinated by Elian. I understood their intrigue. It was so rare that we got a stranger in town. That didn't mean I appreciated being stared at. Even as a peripheral subject.
Given all the attention, it did not surprise me when we got a drop by from the school board president, who was also Derek's mother. Though he had wisely fled town right after our graduation. Unlike me, he had a fraught relationship with his mother.
"Hello, Steven," Mrs. Hill said, using that saccharine tone of someone who didn't really want to be talking to you, but was too worried about what others thought of them to be outright rude. Her dark brown skin stood in stark contrast to the bright mustard yellow of her frilly blouse that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. The color didn't flatter herâor anyone. "How are you?"
"I'm fine."
"That's great." She laid her bony hand on my shoulder.
I flinched away, pretending I had an itch on my back that required immediate attention. I wasn't a big fan of people touching me.
My eyes jumped across the table to Elian. I'd be okay if he wanted to touch me. On the shoulder. Or wherever. I certainly didn't mind that his leg kept brushing up against mine under the table. I suspected he was doing it on purpose because I'd sat in these booths with friends taller than him for years and never had an issue with space.
Mrs. Hill filled me in on Derek's many accomplishments at LSU. "He's on the dean's list. Third time in three years." She raised three fingers, like I was a moron who didn't understand the concept of numbers, showing off the enormous diamond on her ring finger.
"That's great," I said, though I already knew most of what she said. Derek was one of my favorite people, but he'd become a braggart since going off to college. He touted his successes across every social media account he had. It was such a change from the laid-back, party animal I knew.
Mrs. Hill carried on, barely pausing for me to respond. All the while, her eyes kept flickering to Elian. She wanted me to introduce him, I could tell.
I just let her suffer. I'd never liked her much. Mostly because she never liked me much. I once overheard her tell Derek I was a bad influence. Probably because I lived in a trailer park, whereas they lived in the biggest house in town. If she only knew that it was Derek who dragged me to all those parties in high school, she might actually let her perfectly put-together facade slip for once.
I guess she'd finally had enough playing coy, because she looked directly at Elian and asked, "Who's this handsome fellow?"
"Elian Ramos." he said.
"What brings you to our little slice of the world, Mr. Ramos?"
He repeated the same story he'd told me about his grandpa dying and coming to clean out the house.
Mrs. Hill squinted her eyes, puckering her lips. "I don't remember anyone named Ramos around here."
"His name was actually Greene. He was my mom's dad."
Recognition lit her face. "Your mom must be Melinda Greene then. I went to high school with her!"
Elian nodded and mumbled, "Cool."
Mrs. Hill laid a hand over her cleavage and shook her head. "I'm sorry to hear about your grandpa. He was a pillar of the community."
Was he? I couldn't remember ever knowing anyone named Greene. But he was old, so maybe his community pillar duties were long behind him.
"Uh-huh." Elian didn't sound convinced.
He'd told me he didn't know his grandpa. The condolences probably meant very little to him.
"Is your mom in town, too?" she asked. "I'd love to catch up with her."
"Nope. Just me."
"So, does your family still live in Arizona?"
He shook his head. "Texas. Houston, to be more specific."
That's why he had that slight twang to some of his words. I'd wondered about it, but never thought to ask, because every time I thought it, he would say or do something to make me have an internal meltdown.
"Mm-hmm." Mrs. Hill nodded, feigning interest. "Now, your grandpa's place... that's the old blue house out on St. James Road, right?"
"Um, yeah."
"And were you thinking of selling it?" She reached into her Burberry purse and produced a card, which she held out to him between two fingers. "I'd be thrilled to help out my old gal pal."
Elian looked at me, then back at Mrs. Hill. He took the card and read it. "You're a realtor?"
"Best in the state." She put a hand on her hip and plastered on a big fake smile like she was posing for one of her obnoxious bus bench ads that often ended up vandalized. The kids at school used to tease Derek, saying more people had sat on his mother's face than the public toilets in the football stadium bathroom. It was such an obvious joke, but it always got a laugh.
Elian laid the card to the side. "Thank you. I'll let my mom know."
She patted him on the back. "Just give me a ring at that number." She pointed her professionally manicured bright red acrylic fingernail at the card.
She glanced back at me. "Send your mother my love, Steven."
"Sure thing." I said it a bit too sarcastically, and it provoked a disparaging brow raise and tightening of her lips.
Mrs. Hill sashayed away. After the door bells chimed, I saw her crossing the street to her black Lexus, double-parked outside the pharmacy. She grabbed a pink paper off her windshield and crumpled it as she climbed into her car.
I turned back to Elian, who was staring at her card.
"Don't mind her," I said. "She's not very tactful. And she's kind of a bitch."
His eyes found mine, and he smiled. "So, what are you having?"
I was grateful for the change of subject, abrupt as it was. "The triple stack of pancakes with a side of bacon and hash browns."
Elian frowned. "I'm not really a pancake kinda guy."
I scoffed, acting offended. "Who doesn't like pancakes?"
"Too sweet for so early in the day." he said with a half shrug. "It's like eating dessert for breakfast."
"That's why I like them."
He smiled again, this one wide enough to show off his teeth. It even crinkled the corners of his eyes. "You're very cute, you know that?"
My heart skipped a beat. That was the second time he'd called me cute. There was also that time he said I had a good face.
Even though my stomach held a pit the size of a grapefruit at the thought of flirting with him, I wanted to let him know the feeling was mutual. I peered up at him through my lashes. "You're way more than cute."
Elian's leg rubbed against mine again as he stared at me with a sexy smirk that made my knees weak. Thankfully, I was sitting down.
Elian leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. "I was really dreading spending the summer here, but I'm really starting to like it."
I chewed on my bottom lip, my face burning hot. I could only imagine the many shades of red that it must have turned.