Coming back home I was struck with reality.

Florencio kissed me until I was dizzy and when I opened my eyes from my daze, I was in front of my house.

It was early in the afternoon so my mom wasn't home. I dumped all my stuff in my room, looked at myself in the mirror.

I was sunburnt. Luckily it would fade and turn into a tan. My hair got lighter from being in the sun so much. Mom would really want to dye it black now.

I felt bad for leaving when Felix and Aaron did, but now that I knew about them, I guess they'd become more frequent in my life.

-

The next few days were okay. Mom actually asked many questions about the trip. Her first one was, were you safe? Then she eyed my bottom half.

Why was everyone obsessed with us having sex?

Sex painfully reminded me I wasn't perfect and that I was scared to be so intimate with someone. It also surfaced all of my suspicions about what would happen after. I don't think I'd be able to handle it if he left me.

The doorbell rang. I ran from my room and answered it. Gina stood there, a wide smile on her face.

"Is your mom here?" She whispered, looking over my shoulder.

I shook my head. "No. She left a few hours ago, something about work." My mom had talked and I wasn't too keen on listening.

Gina nodded and walked into the house. It was only then I noticed the pot she was carrying.

"My mom said you'd be hungry," Gina told me, walking into the kitchen.

I patted my stomach. "She's right." It was late afternoon and I hadn't eaten lunch yet.

The pot was full of of a sausage, bacon, greens soup. We both took generous bowls of the soup and sat at the table.

"So how was Mexico?" Gina's asked excitedly. She shoved spoonfuls in her mouth. She ended up spitting some out, complaining it was too hot.

I laughed and blew on the soup before eating it. "It was okay."

"Just okay?" She wiggled her eyebrows. "That's not what people with hot boyfriends say when they come back from a free vacation."

I shrugged. "It was great." I swirled the spoon around in the bowl. "What do you want to know?"

"Umm..." her face lit up suddenly. "What does Florencio look like?"

I opened my mouth to begin describing him, but Gina kicked my leg from under the table.

"I want to see a picture. Come on, I know you have one," she urged. She kicked me again when I didn't move.

Florencio took our printed pictures from Puebla. I didn't know what he did with them.

I pulled my phone out of my sweater pocket. I scrolled through my camera roll and found the secret pictures I took of Florencio at the beach, restaurants, when he was sleeping. It felt right to photograph him.

I hesitantly handed Gina my phone.

Her face showed no emotion as she looked through the photos.

"You're such a creep," she finally said. "Does he know you took any of these?"

My face flushed. "No." I was too nervous to ask him if I could take a picture of him. It felt too personal. Too much like I cared. "I like candid pictures," I lied.

A small smile formed on her face. "He's so good looking." Her fingers pinched the screen, indicating she was zooming in. "And you met him in our town? Crazy. Next time you go to the public pool, invite me."

I forgot that was my cover story. We met at the public pool. I took a deep breath to calm the sharp feeling in my chest.

"Peter would be jealous," I teased.

She rolled her eyes, handing me back my phone. "He'd be fine."

I stared at the pictures, wishing Florencio was here with me now.

"Do you think he likes me?" I asked softly, staring at Florencio's handsome face.

Gina made a face. "How am I supposed to know? I've never seen you two together."

I frowned, looking down at the soup that was now unappetizing.

She touched my hand. "Parker, you've spent like what, four months with this guy? Have not had sex and he's taken you on a free vacation. He doesn't just like you."

The sharp feeling returned. "Do you think so?" I wasn't sure why Florencio kept bothering me, but I liked it.

"I'm done talking to you!" She yelled, exasperated. "Get it through your head that he likes you!"

I looked at my phone again, uncertain.

-

Over the next few weeks, I realized

I loved being alone.

I loved when I didn't have to make the effort for someone just for them to shoot me down.

It wasn't like that with Florencio though.

I wanted to be with him. Constantly. He flipped the switch inside me that made me want. I wasn't ambitious. Surely he'd already figured that out. I found my fingertips drifting to my mouth.

Was I biting my nails? I wiped my wet fingers on my jeans. The disgusting habit was returning after twelve years. I stared at my chewed middle finger.

This is what the feeling in my chest was leading to.

Being back home also made me realize Florencio was busy. He was important to people and needed to fulfill their needs or he'd... I'm not sure what would happen to him. His dangerous lifestyle kept me on my toes. I was sick for enjoying the thrill.

He liked to call me, reminding me his unsaved number was my favorite.

I wasn't sure what we talked about. It felt weird to go about this so normally when we weren't.

I grabbed the scraps of courage I had and asked him why he was so busy.

You're just begging for attention, aren't you?

The little voice in my head loved to nag me.

Florencio told me things had gotten bad at work. I wasn't sure what that entailed. He shared nothing about work with me. Maybe it was a good thing.

Feeling like a bum, I left my room and ran into my mom in the hallway.

She was dressed in jeans and a flannel, which was too casual for her normal attire.

"I'm taking an art class," she finally said, after staring at me for what seemed like hours.

"Oh. Okay." I wasn't too interested in anything she did. I huffed.

"Are you okay?" Frustration laced her voice. "Ever since you came back you've been in a sour mood. More than usual."

Her rude comment didn't make me angry. "I'm fine," I mumbled. My moods have been a little inconsistent lately. I tugged on the ends of my long hair.

She touched my arms and I recoiled slightly.

"Come with me to the art class," she encouraged. Her smile seemed ingenue. I took a deep breath.

"Let me get dressed." I turned on my heel and went back in my room. If this was her poor attempt to try and help me, I would take it.

-

I put on old jeans and a loose black teeshirt. Dirty, used converse occupied my feet. I didn't bother with my hair, pulling it back into a ponytail.

The art studio was in the shopping center. It was small, bright. The walls were covered with all types of art. Some not too impressive which made me feel better about my lack of artistic skills.

The class took place in a back room. The art instructor wore a poncho and ripped jeans with sandals. Her nose had blue paint on it.

She introduced herself and told us what we'd be doing today.

My mom listened attentively and I kept drifting away.

By the end of her introduction, I was completely lost.

"What are we doing?" I whispered. The room was quite as everyone was in their own world, painting.

"Were you not paying attention?" My mom scowled.

Her tone struck me. I was in her space and was making her upset. Why was I here? Spending time with my mom was never a good idea.

I slouched in my seat before I realized, what was wrong with me?

I forced myself to think about our many other unpleasant interactions to make myself mad, to put some emotion in me. It worked.

"No, I wasn't," I snapped. "Just tell me what we're doing." I stared at the canvas in front of me, afraid to see her face.

Her annoyed response came, "we're painting a butterfly. You choose the colors."

I nodded. "Thanks." I crossed my legs and and looked at the palette where only the primary colors sat.

I did some mixing to make violet. I did my best to trace the outline of a butterfly. The instructor was painting with her back to us so we could see her canvas.

I copied her butterfly slightly, doing shading where she did. I looked away from her when she turned around to look at her students.

Soft, instrumental music played from the speakers in the room.

I didn't know what I was doing towards the end of hour, the teacher moved herself so she was facing us

and I couldn't see her canvas anymore.

I dipped my brushed in the red and placed it randomly all over the place.

My butterfly was messy, but I liked it.

The teacher walked around the room, complimenting us all.

"Thank you," I replied, biting my lip.

She smiled. "I mean it. You should come back sometime." She'd touched my arm lightly and I didn't mind.

I had to repress my grin when my mom rolled her eyes.

My phone buzzed and I looked at the notification.

What are you doing? Florencio's text read.

Face red with excitement I replied, I'm taking an art class. Florencio made me hyper almost.

You're an artist?

No, my mom asked me to come along.

He didn't reply for a few minutes.

And you're enjoying it?

His text made me laugh.

My mom looked at me. "Stop texting your boyfriend. We're in the middle of a lesson."

I watched as people got up and left with their art pieces.

"The class is over...?"

"I'm staying for the second hour, a friend from work is coming to join me." She replied to a text on her phone then looked up at me. "You can leave if you want to."

I was about to ask how I'd get home, but she shoved her keys in my hand. "Just put the canvas in the trunk, I'd hate if the paint got on the seats." Seeing my expression she reassured me, "my friend will take me home."

I let out a breath. "Okay. Sure."

In the car, I was glad my mom had basically kicked me out. She didn't want me there anyways.

I drove home and my heart jumped in my chest when I saw Florencio's car.

I parked and got out of the car hurriedly.

Florencio was leaning against his car, watching my clumsily movements.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. I was breathing fast. I stood by his trunk.

"I was alone," was all he said. His presence put me on high alert. The urge to touch him was strong but I didn't want him to know that. Instead I shoved my hands in my back pockets.

"Stop staring at me," he teased, his perfect lips lifted up, revealing his slightly crooked teeth.

I pulled my ponytail over my shoulder and looked away, blushing. "My mom won't be home for a few hours," I said, rolling on the balls of my feet.

I couldn't look at his face, so I looked at his body. He was tall, powerful. It made me wonder why he was with me.

"What do you think I want to do?" He asked. His face was serious and I felt my stomach clench.

"Oh," I let out softly, biting the inside of my cheek. I didn't know why I was being so bashful.

He took two long steps to me and grabbed me, pushing me against the car.

I hummed as he slid his hand gently up my neck. I missed his company.

He pecked my lips. I leaned forward, and was embarrassed when he pulled back.

He laughed lowly. Then, his lips came down hard on mine. His pace was rough, fast sometimes and I couldn't keep up. His other hand grabbed the end of my ponytail and pulled my head back. I couldn't think. I was shaking and stopped responding when I mewled unintentionally.

"Honey," he coaxed, biting my lip. He trailed off, kissing my cheek. "Don't be shy."

Mom and our neighbor Edith didn't talk much anymore, but I knew she'd be glad to tell my mom about this.

"Anyone can see," I whispered against his mouth.

"Then let me inside." He teased my lips until I was kissing back again.

"Parker!" I heard a sharp voice yell.

I peaked behind Florencio and saw Edith standing at the end of the driveway. I knew I shouldn't have thought about her, now she was here.

"Hi, Edith," I greeted. Florencio pushed himself off me, leaning against his car like nothing happened. I rubbed my cheeks with my cold hands, hoping to get rid of the redness.

"Who is this?" She snooped. She eyed Florencio and he stared back at her, not giving her any ounce of respect.

"This is Florencio," I introduced him, realizing he wasn't going to himself. "He's—"

"Boyfriend," Florencio finished for me. "I'm the boyfriend."

He's just saying that.

Edith's nose scrunched up. "Parker, you've never brought a boy home before."

"It's not really your concern," I said politely. Her lips pursed. My kindness was indeed getting on her nerves. "I don't need to explain anything to you," I continued. My mouth wouldn't close. "Is there anything else you need? I'm busy." I pressed into Florencio's side.

Edith grumbled something before she stomped away to her house. I could imagine her right now, calling my mom to tell her about my 'sinful' actions.

Edith's poor daughter, I thought solemnly. Mary was a year older than me. I remembered watching from my window as she was standing in the driveway in her graduation gown, Edith rubbed her lips harshly with a cloth, taking off her red lipstick.

I recall faintly of Edith telling my mom Mary had shoved metal through her nose, and got a tattoo. Good for her. I should take after Mary. Get another tattoo, a bigger, colorful one just to spite the non-understanding women in my life. Maybe get a tongue piercing.

"What's wrong with her?" Florencio asked. His finger slipped under my shirt to rub my hip. I squirmed.

"She's just very formal," I explained. "She'll probably tell my mom about this."

He pinched me and I yelped. "Too bad, isn't it?"

I stepped on his foot lightly. "For me, yes. She's been asking nonstop about you."

He grinned. "Tell your mom I'm unavailable. I'm obsessed with someone else."

I looked up at him and I forced myself to accept he was talking about me. I felt cocky. I felt like if I got too confident, he'd disappear.

I left his side and went to open the front door. "My rooms messy," I warned him, waking into the house. "Unpacking is still in the process."

I opened my bedroom door and my suitcase sat in the middle of my room, looking like it exploded.

Florencio picked up my underwear. "Can I keep this?"

"No!" I snatched it from him. I suddenly spotted all my undergarments everywhere. I picked all them up and threw them in my hamper.

After some tidying up, I looked to see Florencio was on my bed. He had an arm shoved under a pillow while his head laid on it. He was on his belly and his shirt had ridden up to expose the smooth skin of his lower back.

I kicked off my shoes and crawled over him, laying next to him.

"Tired?" I asked softly.

He turned his head to look at me. "Yes." His free hand reached out and stroked my cheek. I closed my eyes, relishing his intimate touch.

"What does your mom think about me?" He murmured, eyes closing.

"Do you care?" I hesitantly reached out, touched his lower back and up higher.

His lips quirked. "Somewhat."

"She thinks you're some rich man who is going to take me away from her," I stated. My mom was happy to have me off her hands.

"Is that good?" He blew out a breath as my fingers traveled up higher.

"I guess," I dragged my nails down his back lightly. I used to love when my grandma would do this to me.

"You don't sound happy about it."

No, I wasn't. Mom didn't want me, I was upset.

I sat up and in the process removed my hand from his shirt.

My hand played his hair gently and I resumed my nails scratching down his back.

"She thinks you're buying me a car." I tugged on his thick, dark hair.

He laughed. "A car, huh? Is that what you want?"

I scowled, and pulled my hands into my lap. "No. Don't get me a car. I won't like it."

He grabbed my hand and put it on his back, then the other hand on his head.

"No car," he promised.

I sighed and continued my light touches.

He asked about my mom and I think that gave me a pass to ask about his.

"Does-does your mom know about me?" Was I important enough to mention to someone so close in his life?

He hummed lowly when I applied more pressure.

"Yeah," he breathed.

"What does she think about me?" I asked eagerly.

When he said nothing, I whispered, "I care about this."

"She thinks you're... pretty," he finally said.

Oh. I was... pretty.

I hummed, disappointed.

Florencio turned over on his back. He parted my lips with his thumb. "She's a Mexican mom, Parker. She doesn't like anybody."

"Why did you seek her out?" I blurted. He had his adoptive parents, why would he want to look for his birth mom?

He dropped his hand. "I needed a real mom after my adoptive parents died." He sat up and placed his feet on the floor. "After I graduated and they died, that's when I started to sell drugs." He wasn't looking at me and I figured that made it easier for him to talk. "I had just made it big so I looked for her."

I wasn't expecting so much about his past. I waited patiently for him to continue.

"She was fifteen when she had me. After giving birth, she left the hospital. No one saw her leave." His voice was quiet.

I touched his shoulders lightly and they fell, releasing tension built up.

"I'm trying to bring her to the states," he explained. "She has a criminal record though, she keeps getting denied and I know that'll happen everytime, but I still try." He took a deep breath. "I won't bring her here illegally either. She'd be stepping on fucking eggshells everywhere she goes."

My eyes burned with sadness.

"She was poor, dirt poor when she was teenager. She had to steal and got caught multiple times. When we were in Mexico, I was giving her money. She needs it." He balled his hands into fist and placed them on his knees. "I can't tell her she'll never be here."

He turned to look at me. "Honey, don't be sad over me."

"I can't help it," I defended. The story started to connect, make more sense. "Is that why you won't pay Rudy back?" To continuously pay for his moms life?

Instead of saying anything, he kissed me.

"Were your adoptive parents not... good to you?" I asked, nervous I was prying too much.

"They were good at first," he confessed. "But my mom had an affair. After that, my dad lost it." He pulled away from me. "I won't tell you that though. Too much shit."

I gulped. Okay.

"I'm glad you told me," I said. "About your mom."

He smiled sadly.

-