Being with Flor now was … odd. A good portion of my life had been spent by his side, but my feelings had always been a secret. Well, if not entirely a secret at least unspoken, unconfirmed. Now that he knew how I felt, it was just weird. I was standing next to the guy I loved, who said he loved me back, but yet we couldn't be together. I wondered absently if I were given the chance, if Flor said yes to this but our parents balked, would I choose a romantic relationship with him over my own father? Over the man who was gruff and frustrating at times, but who'd taken care of a baby in the wake of his own heartbreak, who'd done a pretty damn good job at it, too? Besides, even if it really did come down to a Flor or Father sort of a thing, I knew I wouldn't just be ruining my relationship with my dad. This could ruin Flor and his mom, his mom and my dad. There were any number of reasons that Florian was right about this.
But why then did it feel so wrong?
"I'm sorry you cried," he told me, lighting up a cigarette as we walked. I kept my gaze straight ahead and didn't bother to look over at him. "If I'd known you were going to come home and be upset all night, I never would've let you leave."
"What? And give up a night of passion with Rhonda? What a sacrifice that would've been." I was being a snarky brat, I knew, but I couldn't stop the words from coming out of my mouth. My emotions were in too much of a turmoil to allow for any form of self-control. Florian squeezed his fists at his sides, but he didn't deny the accusation. After I'd left, after I'd poured my heart out for him, had he taken Rhonda into his room and filled her the way I only wanted him to fill me?
Jesus.
My imagination spun with unwanted images of Florian and Rhonda having sex, any details I needed filled in and supplied by the many memories I had of catching my brother in the act. I could distinctly remember the first time I came home and heard strange sounds coming from upstairs. At only thirteen, and a fairly innocent thirteen at that, it had never occurred to me what those sounds might've entailed. I'd raced up the stairs, my heart thumping as it usually did whenever I was presented with a chance to see my stepbrother, and found Flor's door cracked. Sneaking quietly along the hallway, I'd peeped inside and found a girl with dark hair on her back, Flor on top of her, their bodies moving in ways that haunted me for months to come. It's not that I hadn't known what sex was, but I'd never seen the actual act before.
The feeling of heartache I'd had that day returned a hundred times over as I reached a hand up and clutched at my chest. I'd been in love with him and, according to him, that was just after he'd realized he was in love with me, just after that barefoot hangout session on the roof, a bottle of champagne sitting between us on the shingles. Instead of waiting for me, he'd followed his dick to greener pastures. Anger washed over me, doused only by yesterday's memory of Flor's words. And you wanted me to what? Wait around for you to grow up, like some kind of freak predator? Why did he have to make so much damn sense?
"All I'm saying is, I don't want you to waste your life pining after me, Abi."
Wow. Now if that didn't sound pathetic, I don't know what did.
"I'm not wasting my life," I assured him as we neared the ramen shop. "I have friends and a life outside of you, Flor. I've had boyfriends, when you haven't bothered to step in and screw things up that is."
"Don't forget the ones you've dated behind my back. You know, like my best friend from elementary school."
I ignored the comment and continued as if he hadn't spoken, anger lacing his words and heightening the growing tension between us.
"Just because I've always … " I couldn't say the word love, not in the bright sunshine like this. I felt too exposed. I rephrased my words. "Just because I care about you, because I wanted to see what a relationship between us would be like, that doesn't mean I'm just wasting away pining after you. Yeah, last night was rough for me. You basically told me it's never going to happen. I left knowing you and Rhonda were going to spend the night together. Not to mention the fact that you said she wanted to get engaged."
"She does," Flor said, his voice freakishly calm. I kept my gaze away from him, on the green hills in the distance, covered in trees, on the people riding bikes, on the students walking quickly with backpacks over their shoulders. I needed to look at anything and everything but those eyes. "I was serious when I said that. Rhonda spent most of her life in foster care, and all she wants is a family. She wants to have children soon."
"You're only twenty-one," I said, wondering if I sounded as terrified as I felt. No. I didn't want Flor to be a dad, didn't want to see another woman swollen with a baby that I desperately wished would be mine (not anytime soon, obviously, but eventually). "Isn't it a little early to start a family?"
Flor shrugged. I could see his muscular shoulders moving from the corner of my eye. He was actually considering this? Commitment phobic Flor, the guy who had a new girl every week and then some, he was actually thinking about settling down with a woman he'd known for a few months? I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I hadn't been worried about Rhonda. Maybe I should've been?
"Max was asking after you, too."
I felt my lips purse. Max. The boy I used to substitute for Flor. It was sad, but true.
"Tell Max that … " I almost told Flor that he could tell his friend to shove it, but then I changed my mind. I hadn't actually seen Max doing anything with that girl. For all I knew, he was just flirting. Besides, the thought of being alone right now was more than I could bear. I immediately regretted what'd happened between me and Dorian. Of course, even when he wasn't actually involved, Flor could still find a way to mess up my relationships for me. "That I'll call him. In fact, I'll send him a text as soon as we're done here."
"After he cheated on you?" Flor asked, voice low and dark, nothing at all like the warm sunshine-y day around us. He opened the door to Toshi's and ushered me in, brooding behind me in line while I examined the simple menu hanging behind the counter. I didn't bother to say anything in response to Flor's words. It might've been a little childish of me, but I knew that by dating Max again, Flor would suffer. If I had to see him have kids with Rhonda, I wanted him to know that I was sleeping with his best friend.
"How are you folks doing today?" the guy behind the counter asked as we moved up in line.
"My sister's dating a guy who cheats on her," Flor said blandly and I felt my cheeks flush.
"Dude, that's a bummer," the guy said, still smiling. I glanced around, hoping nobody else had heard. Only Flor would ever dare blurt something like that to a random stranger. I finally looked over at him and found his know-it-all asshole face firmly locked in place.
"My brother's dating a drag queen," I blurted and then in a conspiratorial whisper, I leaned forward and whispered, "and he doesn't believe that makes him gay. He's a little homophobic unfortunately, afraid to admit his true feelings." Flor gave me a look that could kill, his sharp green eyes stabbing me straight through my innocent, wide-eyed blue ones.
The man behind the counter took it all in stride.
"Righteous, man. To each his own, you know what I mean? Well, maybe some good food'll put you both in a better mood. Can I start you with some gyoza?"
"Two orders," Flor said as I resisted the urge to punch him in that muscular arm of his. "Two sodas, two bowls of the original shoyu ramen." I almost hated him for knowing exactly what I wanted. Why did he have to do that? To remember my favorite dessert, how I liked my coffee, to give me a locket with a picture of us holding sparklers on the Fourth of July. Why, why, why?
I moved away and let Flor pay, finding us an empty table outside. It'd be easier to talk if nobody was around to bother us, and I had a feeling we'd need the privacy.
When he joined me, Flor said nothing about our bitchy exchange at the counter and sat across from me in one of the black metal chairs, leaning back and hooking his chin on his hand. He was looking right at me again, his pupils narrowing in the ray of sunshine that fell across his face, like a cat or something.
I curled my fingers around the metal arms of my chair and squeezed.
"I hate that we're sitting here like this," he told me, staying in that same position, his muscles stiff and his expression unyielding. It was like sitting in a spotlight for me, like I could feel his gaze diving beneath my clothes, caressing my bare flesh, examining the erratic beat of my heart. Every nerve in me was raw, like my emotions had finally worn away some of that protective covering I'd so carefully placed around myself.