Page 4 of American Sweethearts

I made myself shift my focus away from his mouth and noticed he was wearing his usual travel ensemble. Fitted sweats, Yankees hoodie, and Jordans. Nothing different there. Except he didn’t seem like the old Juan Pablo. There was an ease to him that hadn’t been there before. Like he didn’t have anything to prove. He had his face turned to talk to my dad and I looked him up and down as he laughed at something.

I could tell you every mole, every scar on Juan Pablo’s body better than I could my own. I knew exactly where to touch him to make him moan with pleasure, and he could do the same to me. Except beyond that, nothing ever seemed to work for us since that first breakup. Since that awful night when we said too many ugly things to forgive. We broke things then, but instead of giving up, we kept coming back to take more bites out of each other. Until there was nothing left.

Still, I wanted him as badly as I ever had, because no matter how much it hurt with Juan Pablo, the pain always seemedalmostworth it. I needed to watch myself and remember how that last breakup almost undid me. Juan Pablo couldn’t deal with my job, and I swore to myself I would never change course because of anyone. So that was where we were. Stuck.

chapter three

juan pablo

Three hours into this flight, and it was sort of a scene. I mean, you got a plane packed with Dominicans, Puerto Ricans, and Haitians, an open bar and free food…it’s a fucking party. But something was missing. I spotted Pris sitting by herself on one of the seats furthest from the cabin. She copped that spot from the beginning of the flight and even though she’d come and chatted with the rest of us, I could see she was keeping herself at a distance.

Of course, I assumed it all had to do with me.

We didn’t need to be like this. I wasn’t going to push for more again. I swore to myself I’d keep my ass in check on this trip. No drunken begging Pris to take pity on me or greasy behavior. That wasn’t what I wanted, I just missed her.

I looked around again and saw that people had finally settled down a little bit. Figured, just when we’re about ready to land. I almost went over to P and tried to kill time talking with him and Easton. But they were sitting so contentedly. P’s big ass arm like an oak branch draped on his man.

It was a fucking trip, really, to see my friend who never let himself show too much looking like the very picture of contentment. I wasn’t going to say he was glowing, but he looked really fucking happy. I must’ve been pulling a face, because P’seyes went right to Priscilla, who looked like she was trying and failing to fake sleep.

I didn’t have the energy to have an eyeball conversation with P, so instead, I did what I’d wanted to do since Priscilla stepped onto the plane. I didn’t even know what I was going to say once I got there but I had to make sure she and I were cool. Just the thought of an entire week around all our friends and family while Priscilla and I tried our best to ignore each other made me feel a deep, bone-level exhaustion.

“Hey,” I said, and she opened one brown eye.

“Hey yourself. You kill that $200 bottle of Henny yet? We only have like another forty minutes in the air.”

My mouth twitched at that. Of course, she was going to give me shit for freeloading on the booze. I smacked my lips and took another sip, knowing it would piss her off.

“I’m working on it. I see you haven’t availed yourself of much of the free food and beverages. You sick or something?”

She snorted but didn’t answer, finally training both of those chocolate brown eyes in my direction. “I’m trying to pace myself since we’re about to go on a five-day binge in the DR, but thanks for asking.” This was us, always, giving each other shit from the moment we opened our mouths.

Fighting or fucking, that was me and Priscilla.

But that wasn’t true either, we were—we’dalwaysbeen—a lot more than that. I looked up at her again and my stomach flipped thinking it would be like this for us now. That we’d have to find fake shit to talk about, because we didn’t know enough about each other’s lives to know what to ask.

I saw her reach for her phone and raised an eyebrow. “Tying up work stuff?” I spoke before giving it too much thought. Her job and how much it interfered with her personal life was definitely in the red zone for us. I cringed when I saw her put herback up, her mouth twisting to the side. I braced for the tongue-lashing I knew was coming, but at the last second, she deflated.

“Nah. It’s all under control. This new team requires a lot less from me.” She lifted a shoulder and pushed out her lips, feigning an indifference I knew was not really there. Not for her job. Never for her job. “I’m not really sure how I feel about it, but at least for this week I’m off duty. Fully at the disposal of Camilo and his man.”

That smile was real and I was sure a twin to the one on my lips. “He’ll want us at his beck and call as soon as we get there.”

“That’s Camilo. Although Tom has gotten him to chill out a bit.”

“Not enough that he won’t be a fucking monster this week. You know how he gets.”

She laughed at that and grabbed my glass. It was one of those things that we’d done with each other forever, but the stakes felt high. The moment she slipped the glass out of my hand and moved to take a sip, she widened her eyes and thrust it back into my hand.

“Sorry.”

I tried to give it back to her. “Come on, Pris, you can take a sip of my drink. Just because?—

I almost said “we didn’t work out,” but I couldn’t make the words come out of my mouth. One thing was to know that’s how it was. Another was to say it.

“Take a sip, woman. That’s XO and you don’t want it to go to waste.” That last part made her smile and she did take the glass from my hand for a small sip.

When she handed it back, she smiled ruefully at me. “God forbid we leave any of the food and alcohol intact on this flight.” I fake shuddered and she laughed, cracking something open inside that I didn’t realize had been cutting off my breathing from the moment she’d walked onto this jet. Pris and I could stillbe us. Maybe that could be what I did this trip, remind her of that.

I was mulling on that when the flight attendant started moving around the cabin asking everyone to get ready for landing. The energy immediately shifted in the plane, everyone buzzing with anticipation; I leaned over so I could look out at the same deep turquoise water I’d seen on yearly childhood trips to Puerto Rico, and later when I’d come with Pris or Nesto and the guys for spring breaks in the DR. Like everything else with us, Pris’s and my own roots were inexorably tangled. The islands our people came from only divided by a small stretch of sea.