Page 13 of American Sweethearts

“How did you enjoy the rest of the night?”

Oh shit. He was going to talk to me then. Because I wasn’t having enough of a problem not swooning over what his hips were doing or the man sweat and Tom Ford aftershave combo he was rocking right now. I slowly opened my eyes and he was looking at me expectantly, but again with that sort of zen thing that he had going on these days. Like he could wait for my answer for as long as I needed.

“It was good.” I shook my head to clear it, because there was a lot going on in there and I’d had quite a few of those signature cocktails. “You have to stop looking at me like that. I let Easton convince me to have a few Henny shots, because he thinks he’s Drake now.”

That only got me another laugh from J and that wide grin that made his dimples pop…fuck. I was weak, and that motherfucker knew right when my defenses were at their lowest, because he put both hands right at my back and pushed in tight. “How am I looking at you?”

I closed my eyes again, breathed in deep, and thanked the universe for my room, which was fully equipped with a set of parents. “You’re looking at me like you want to start something.”

When I opened my eyes, I expected him to be looking at me all seductive and shit, but he wasn’t. He just looked…happy.Before he spoke, he smiled again and my chest tightened. I missed Juan Pablo still, no matter what happened. I missed him, and not just as a lover, but as a friend.

“I mean, I’m not going to lie. I’d love to start something with you, but I’m not going to push. I told you the last time, Pris. I don’t want to wreck things.”

That was another thing that the new Juan Pablo did, he talked. Shared his feelings openly. The song ended and the new one was an old bolero. One of those old ones that Luis Miguel had brought back in the `90s and my mom had played 24/7 for months.

“Damn that’s oldoldschool.” Juan Pablo grunted but didn’t make an attempt to bring me any closer. Boleros were a slow, tight against each other dance. If there was too much space between you and your partner, you were definitely not doing it right. But it seemed he was taking some sort of stance. I had to be the one to put us in the proper position. When I saw that eyebrow hiked up high on his forehead and that lopsided smile, I gave in.

“Okay, fine.” I had my arms around his neck and was swaying with him after a moment, and I had to admit, it felt nice.

“This has been a good week. I won’t lie, there’s been some sexual frustration and confusion on my end.” He laughed as I eyed him suspiciously. “You’ve been giving off some really unusual vibes Juan Pablo Campos.”

“Nah, I’m just not being my greasy shameless self.” He came to a dead stop on the dance floor, as if whatever he needed to say demanded his complete attention, and mine, too. “These days I’m trying to be more cautious of how I approach things, being a little more careful with the people I love.”

It’s not like I hadn’t noticed it. He was different—contemplative, almost. Paying attention. Juan Pablo was the youngest and the only boy in his family. All his cousins weregirls so he basically grew up as a prince, and he acted like it. He could be selfish sometimes. More than once his assumption that the world just had to accommodate to what he wanted had been a source of contention for us. But the hubris that usually accompanied that seemed to be done now. The way he carried himself was different. The line of his shoulders was stronger, and softer at once. That set to his chin that challenged the world not to give him what he wanted was softer now. The more I thought about it, the more I felt like this was a Juan Pablo I could almost take another chance on.

“Sorry,” I said with an embarrassed laugh. “I zoned out.”

Without asking me to give more of an explanation, he started moving again. Once we were back in a groove, moving together in unison, he spoke.

“It’s not that deep. I’m just trying.” He didn’t say what for, but he didn’t have to. I knew what he meant.

“We all are.” I sounded tired and just a bit more jaded than I used to, and for the first time, I felt bothered by it. I wanted to shake that weariness off my voice. Sound like I used to, purposeful, satisfied. “I guess the mid-thirties life crisis hits everyone differently; for you it’s been a positive change.”

As I looked for words for wherever I was going with this conversation, the song stopped and some Latinx pop song came on. I wasn’t in the mood and suddenly the urge to spill my guts to Juan Pablo was almost overpowering.

I took his hand and angled my head to the beach. “I think I may call it a night.” J’s brow dipped in disappointment, but I shook my head and tugged on him. “Do you want to get out of here?”

At any other time this would have been his cue to say something suggestive, to rake his eyes over me, knowing just how to get my blood boiling. Tonight he just pulled me along with him and said, “Let’s go.”

chapter ten

juan pablo

I knew I had Priscilla on pins and needles with my new vibe, and I wasn’t going to lie, it felt good to know she could see it. That she noticed there was a change in me. Because I’d been wondering if it was only obvious to me. That all this shit I’d been working on hadn’t made a difference.

Before heading out, we walked to one of the tables where Patrice and Easton were also getting ready to call it a night. Camilo and Tom had left hours ago, since they were flying out first thing to start on their honeymoon in Greece.

On a whim, I grabbed a water bottle and a couple of the tiny champagnes from one of the huge ice buckets that were placed all around the reception area. Once Priscilla had her gauzy shoulder wrap and small bag in hand, we headed to the beach.

“So, what is this mid-thirties crisis thing about?” I asked as we walked out onto the sandy beach, the grains soft and still warm under our feet. Remnants from the sunny day.

Priscilla sighed and wrapped the sheer fabric around her shoulders. That thing didn’t look like it would do anything to keep her warm and I wished I had a jacket or something to give her. The breeze from the ocean had picked up with a vengeance now that it was more early morning than late at night. “It’s just work-related bullshit.”

“The Inwood precinct isn’t working out? I thought you liked it there.”

She gave me a curious look and I realized she hadn’t said this to me. I’d heard it through my mother, who heard it from the Dominican News Network, as Nesto always called it.

“My mom said you’d come by to talk to Papi after you took the job. She mentioned you seemed happy.”