Page 33 of American Sweethearts

“Damn, okay, point taken, you didn’t need to go that hard. I got it. But that movie’s required watching. Besides,” I said, pointing my glass in the direction of the TV. “We’ve watched horror movies before.”

He pursed his mouth again and I could see that he was trying really hard not to say something out of pocket, and honestly, that more than anything else completely disarmed me. I wondered if he’d say something bratty or if he’d just push out whatever he had on the tip of his tongue to say. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel either way.

When he finally looked at me, he seemed so serious I almost felt bad that I’d started the conversation.

“Those times we watched horror movies…uh.” He paused to take another sip of his drink. “I thought we both knew I was secretly reading a book on my phone and trying to tune out the nightmare inducing horror on the screen.”

He looked a little mortified and straight up adorable and I legit snorted. “For fuck’s sake, Juan Pablo!” I was literally cackling. “You’re too fucking much. Fine I’ll find something not horrific.”

His mouth twitched like he was super happy he’d made me laugh, and I wanted to kiss him. So bad.

I was playing a dangerous game. And yet, I could not for the life of me come up with a reason strong enough to make me leave. I fiddled with the remote after figuring out how to make it work until I found theGreat British Baking Show. I raised an eyebrow in question before turning on the first episode of the latest season.

“Happy?”

J bit his bottom lip and it was really very hard to be this close and not kiss him. Because if that mouth was around, I wanted a taste of it. That wasn’t ever going to change. It hadn’t after all this time. I didn’t think it ever would.

His shoulders relaxed and he threw an arm over the back of the couch—noticeably not on the side I was sitting. “Perfect.”

We both sank into the couch and watched a couple of episodes, furiously looking up recipes on our phone whenever we saw something that looked delicious. Every emotional part or stressful moment making us drift closer and closer to each other, so that by the time we were finishing Cake Week, I was practically on his lap.

I was starting to doze off when the smell of popcorn woke me up, and before I could even sit up, Juan Pablo was walking back into the living room with a bowl of fluffy popcorn in one hand and balancing wineglasses in the other. “I knew the smell of popcorn would lure you back from sleep.”

“You know I can’t resist Orville’s siren call.” He laughed, handing me a refill and placing the bowl on the couch next to me.

He sat down next to me and in no time, we both had our hands in the popcorn bowl. “You looked really happy today doing that class. Totally in your element.” I knew him too well not to know he’d had that on the tip of his tongue all night. But I was not going to go down that road unless I had to. So I justhummed and kept myself busy shoving handfuls of popcorn in my mouth.

When he realized I wasn’t going to respond, as he always did, he called my bluff. “Have you thought about doing it full time? I mean those ladies were into the class. Two of them asked me if we could make them a permanent thing.”

I considered him for a second, really looking at him. I wondered if this was just another way for him to get back on my good side. Of extending another olive branch.

I could blow it off again, but I didn’t feel like it. Somewhere deep inside, in a little drawer I rarely even let myself open, I did hold the dream of doing something like this for a living. Of being an activist and an educator. Of putting into my community in ways I knew it needed. Maybe even going back to school for it. But it just seemed so fucking reckless.

Without really looking at him, I made myself say it though. “I mean, sure, it could be great and I really love doing it. But that’s not really an option, not as a job.”

I could tell that he was really thinking about what he was going to say, because my job was always, always a source of tension between us. And we’d had more than our fair share of arguments when it came to it. He looked at me, and I could tell he was gaging how much telling me what he was really thinking would piss me off. In the end, he ran a hand over his mouth and went in.

“I just want you to know that in no way do I think what I’m about to suggest is easy or would happen any time soon.” He paused for effect, because deep down Juan Pablo was the OG Drama Llama. “But you could slowly start doing something different. Like change careers.”

It was exactly what I thought he’d say, but what surprised me was the emotion that flared in my chest as he said it. But I was more frustrated with myself and the fact that I was too scared totake a chance on something I really wanted, more than annoyed at him. Still, my first instinct was to get defensive. Lash out at him for saying things that he knew would upend my life. I tried very hard not to bite his head off since I knew he was trying to help.

“I’ve thought about it.” Wow, I didn’t even curse him out.

Growth.

“But I can’t do that. I can’t leave a union job, with security, benefits,a pension, to do something that’s a glorified hobby, just because it makes me feel good. That’s not my life, Juan Pablo.”

“Pris, it’s not like a glorified hobby. Mi reina— Fuck.” He sucked his teeth at the slip up. We were certainly not back to endearments yet. “You had that room at attention. I was expecting at least a few eye rolls, but we were all hanging on your every word. And to have older Latinx men and women talking openly about sex? Yo, that shit was beautiful. For real.”

Juan Pablo never said something he didn’t mean. Never, even when it cost him a friendship or, in our case, when it meant there would be a fight. J spoke his truth, as he saw it, always. That’s why, for the most part, he kept his opinions to himself.

But hearing him say it now, it was like he was handing me a gift I’d been too afraid to wish for. And holy shit did I want to take it, but I couldn’t. This wasn’t my reality. It wasn’t evenhis.

I shook my head again, harder this time. “Nah, J, I can’t. I just can’t.” My voice shook, because I wanted to ask him how to make it work. What he saw that I couldn’t, but this road was not good for me. I could not just throw all fucking caution and responsibility to the wind because I wasn’t feeling my job.

I held up a hand when I saw that he was going to argue. “Please.” I closed my eyes, finally feeling the tiredness of the day. Of the long week I’d had. “Today has been nice. I don’t want to get into a thing over this.”

I was pleading, and he could see it and hear it clearly, and he kept whatever he was about to say to himself. “Okay.”