“Let’s get out of here. You and me, mi amor. ¡Vamos!”
I breathe a sigh of relief as I straddle Julio and Brittany hops on behind me. She wraps her arms around my waist, holding on tight as I speed out of the parking lot.
We fly through the streets; which eventually become a blur. I don’t even stop when rain starts pouring down.
“Can we stop now?” she yells through the deafening storm.
I park under an old abandoned bridge by the lake. Heavy rain pounds the cement surrounding us, but we have our own secluded place.
Brittany hops to the ground. “You’re a stupid jerk,” she says. “You can’t deal drugs. It’s dangerous and stupid, and you promised me. You’ll risk going to jail. Jail, Alex. You may not care, but I do. I won’t let you ruin your life.”
“What do you want to hear?”
“Nothing. Everything. Say something so I don’t stand here feeling like a complete idiot.”
“The truth is . . . Brittany, look at me.”
“I can’t,” she says as she stares at the pouring rain. “I’m so tired of thinking of every scary scenario.”
I pull her against me. “Don’t think, muñeca. Everything will work itself out.”
“But—”
“No buts. Trust me.” My mouth closes over hers. The smell of rain and cookies eases my nerves.
My hand braces the small of her back. Her hands grip my soaked shoulders, urging me on. My hands slide under her shirt, and my fingers trace her belly button.
“Come to me,” I say, then lift her until she’s straddling me over my bike.
I can’t stop kissing her. I whisper how good she feels to me, mixing Spanish and English with every sentence. I move my lips down her neck and linger there until she leans back and lets me take her shirt off. I can make her forget about the bad stuff. When we’re together like this, hell, I can’t think of anything else but her.
“I’m losing control,” she admits, biting her lower lip. I love those lips.
“Mamacita, I’ve already lost it,” I say, grinding against her so she knows exactly how much control I’ve lost.
She moves her hips in a slow rhythm against me, an invitation I don’t deserve. My fingertips graze her mouth. She kisses them before I slowly slide my hand down her chin to her neck and in between her breasts.
She catches my hand. “I don’t want to stop, Alex.”
I cover her body with mine.
I can easily take her. Hell, she’s asking for it. But God help me if I don’t grow a conscience.
It’s that loco bet I made with Lucky. And what my mom said about how easy it is to get a girl pregnant.
When I made the bet, I had no feelings for this complex white girl. But now . . . shit, I don’t want to think about my feelings. I hate feelings; they’re only good for screwing up someone’s life. And may God strike me down right now because I want to make love to Brittany, not fuck her on my motorcycle like some cheap whore.
I move my hands away from her cuerpo perfecto, the first sane thing I’ve done tonight. “I can’t take you like this. Not here,” I say, my voice hoarse from emotion overload. This girl was going to gift me with her body, even though she knows who I am and what I’m about to do. The reality is hard to swallow.
I expect her to be embarrassed, maybe even mad. But she curls into my chest and hugs me. Don’t do this to me, I want to say. Instead I wrap my arms around her and hold on tight.
“I love you,” I hear her say so softly it might have been her thoughts.
Don’t, I’m tempted to say. ¡No! ¡No!
My gut twists and I hold her tighter. Dios mío, if things were different I’d never give her up. I burrow my face in her hair and fantasize about stealing her away from Fairfield.
We stay that way for a long time, long after the rain stops and reality sets in. I help her off the motorcycle so she can put her shirt back on.
Brittany looks up at me, a hopeful look on her face. “Are you going to do this drug deal?”
I get off Julio and walk over to the end of the tunnel. Sticking my hand in the water still dripping down the sides, I let the cold water fall through my fingers.
“I’ve got to,” I say, my back to her.
She steps beside me. “Why? Why do you have to do something that might end up with you in jail?”
I put her soft, pale cheek in my palm and give her a wistful smile. “Didn’t you know gang members deal drugs? It’s part of the job.”
“So quit. Surely there’s some way. . . .”
“You want to quit, they give you a challenge. Sometimes it’s torture, sometimes a beating. If you live, you get out. Let me tell you, preciosa, only once have I seen anyone come out of a challenge alive. The guy still wishes he was dead, he got beat up so bad. God, you’ll never understand, my family needs this.”
“For the money?”
My hand leaves her. “No, not for the money.” I throw my head back and wince in frustration. “Can we please change the subject?”
“I’m against you doing anything illegal.”
“Querida, you need a saint. Or at least a minister. And I’m neither of those.”
“Aren’t I important to you?”
“Yes.”
“Then prove it to me.”
I pull my bandanna off my head, then rake my fingers through my hair. “Do you know how hard it’s been for me? Mi madre expects me to protect the family by being in the Blood but is in total denial, Hector wants me to prove I’m dedicated to the Blood, and you . . . the one person who I feel like I can start a life with someday, you want me to prove I love you by doin’ somethin’ that could put my family in danger. I have to do this, you know. And nobody, not even you, is gonna change my mind. Oluídalo.”
“You’ll risk what we have?”
“Dammit, don’t do this. We don’t have to risk anythin’.”
“If you start dealing drugs, it’s over. I’ve jeopardized everything for you . . . for us. My friends. My parents. Everything. Can’t you do the same?”
I toss my jacket to her when her teeth start chattering. “Here. Put this on.”
And that’s it. This is my life. If she can’t handle it, she can go back to Colin Adams. Or whoever she can mold into her own Ken doll.
She tells me to take her to her friend Sierra’s house. “I think we should work separately on the chemistry project,” Brittany says. She hands me back my jacket when we reach the big house on the beach. “Do you want to put the hand warmers together or would you rather write the paper?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Well, I’m a pretty good writer. . . .”
“Fine. I’ll do the rest.”
“Alex, it doesn’t have to end like this.”
I watch as tears well in her eyes. I’ve got to get out of here before they start falling down her face. That will definitely be my undoing.
“Yeah, it does,” I say, then drive off.
