“Hi, we’re delivering from Castillo Flowers.” Rafaela sets her vase down on the desk. I place mine next to hers. “We just need a signature.”
“The flowers look amazing,” says the man. He walks out from behind the counter, looking from Rafaela to me. “And no offense to the usual guy, but rarely do we get them carried in by pretty girls.”
Rafaela stiffens next to me, her back straightening even more than it already was. She looks him square in the eye as she says, “Héctor is sick today. I’ll pass along your well wishes.”
That just makes him grin. “Stephanie, why don’t you sign for these while I talk to the girls for a minute?” He turns to Rafaela. “You do have a minute? I wanted to discuss our account.…”
He’s practically touching Rafaela, he’s standing so close. Her body is visibly tense, but it doesn’t deter him. The girl behind the desk is pretending to look at something on her computer but the tight pull of her mouth tells me she’s been on the receiving end of his unwanted attention more than once.
“You’ll need to discuss anything business-related with my aunt.” Rafaela steps back from him.
“But your aunt isn’t here.” He tries to cover up his gross persistence with a playful tone. “Couldn’t you pass along the message?”
“I’m sorry, but we have to go,” she says firmly. “We’re on a tight schedule, but I’ll have my aunt call you right away to discuss the account.”
She’s practically through the door before I can blink. I follow her, looking over my shoulder at the girl behind the desk.
“Fuck that dude.” Rafaela slams her hand on the steering wheel as soon as I’m back in the van.
“Have you met him before?”
“No, but anytime I go on deliveries, it’s the same shit. Doesn’t matter who it is. Like we’ve showed up solely to be ogled by them.” She lets out a breath. “I swear, if it weren’t for guys like your brother, I’d be one hundred percent into girls forever because sometimes it is so not worth the bullshit of dealing with men.”
“That guy was, like, fifty,” I say, especially embarrassed that I’d thought he was attractive for even a moment. “It’s not like you’d go out with him.”
“That shit doesn’t start with fifty-year-old guys, Suzette. It starts when they’re, like, four years old and everyone laughs when they’re pulling girls’ hair on the playground because, you know, there’s no better compliment than a boy’s attention, unwanted or not, right?” She smiles when I look over. “Well, I suppose you can check feminist rant off your list today.”
I smile back to mask whatever I’m feeling—is it jealousy that she was out with Lionel and not me, or something more? “So, I’m guessing the date went well?”
“I figured he’d already told you everything… Little.”
I feel my face turning hot but ignore that last part. “I was asleep when he got home.”
Rafaela buckles her seat belt, then programs her GPS to the next destination and starts out on our route. “I’ll spare you the details, but your brother is… a nice guy. Not the kind of guy who can’t stop telling everyone how nice he is to cover up his raging misogyny, but a bona fide nice guy.”
“He is,” I affirm. I chew on my lip so I won’t be tempted to ask her if he acted weird in any way. I can’t do that to him, no matter how badly I want someone else to be looking out for him. Or how much I wish Rafaela had a reason to like me better than him.
“And he barely stopped talking about you all night.”
I look at her with raised eyebrows. “Really?”
“He just about thinks you’re the best person he knows. So I guess you are one of the good ones.” She pauses. “He told me about his condition.”
“It’s an illness,” I say automatically.
“I know. I think it’s… My aunt always uses the word admirable for anyone she thinks is cool.” Rafaela sighs. “So, I know it makes me sound old as fuck, but it’s pretty damn admirable of him to be so open about it. And I can’t imagine being on meds like that.”
“He told you he’s on meds?” My voice is too sharp, but I can’t believe Lionel would lie, especially when he didn’t have to bring it up in the first place.
“I’m not some delicate flower. Even in my hometown, where people pretend like ignoring things or only God himself will cure you, some kids our age were on medication.”
I look out the windshield at the long line of cars blanketing Los Feliz Boulevard. “I guess I’m just surprised he told you all that on your first date.”
She slows down behind a Mercedes convertible with a bald head shining out from the driver’s seat. “He said… Wait, you’re sure you’re okay with hearing this stuff? I don’t want to make things weird.”
“You’re the one making things weird,” I say, and I sound too irritable, because she turns to look at me. “I mean, just talk about whatever. I’ll tell you if it’s weird.”
But I’m irritable because I don’t know what she means. Is the hesitation because I’m Lion’s sister and she still doesn’t understand that we share everything, or is it because of us? I know I haven’t simply imagined her flirting with me. And I don’t know for sure, but I think something could have happened between us by now, if I’d been brave enough to let her know I was interested.
“Fair enough,” she continues. “Well, he said it feels like he’s known me his whole life, and I know how cheesy that sounds. Guys have said it before and it felt like they were just trying to get into my pants. But… I believe him. And I feel the same way.” When I glance to my left, her hazel eyes are huge and a little scared. “Is that stupid?”
“Not stupid,” I say quietly. “Honest.”
then.
Iris finds me in the dark.
We’ve just finished taking turns sipping from the vodka bottle and she’s turned off the light. On the floor I sit completely still, my back straight and flat against the edge of my bed.
She kneels next to me. My skin is warm and the coolness of her fingertips makes me shiver. Her lips find me, too, and it’s the second night we’ve done this, but this time I’m not so tense. I let myself lean into her and my mouth opens with hers and I kiss her like I wanted to the first time.
Her palms slip behind my neck and she pulls me closer, kissing me so deeply I feel as if I might burst into flames. I push my fingers through her curls, thinking how strange and good this is, how unexpected even though it’s the second time. I pull away, slowly.
“What are we doing?” It’s the same question I asked last night, except I remember the mild panic in my voice, shocked that one minute we’d been drinking and complaining about the girls on our floor and the next I was pressed against the wall, her lips moving in a swift line from my chin to my collarbone. Tonight there is no panic, just lazy wonder; more of an excuse to prolong what’s happening rather than stop it.
“What do you want to do?” Her voice is serious as she sits back on her knees and looks at me.
“I don’t know, I… This is new for me.”
We’re whispering even though it’s late, even though everyone is in their dorm rooms like they’re supposed to be.
“New bad or new good?”