Maldeamores (Lovesick) (Heightsbound #0.5) (6 page)

I nod. I knew it was coming, but I still wince at the pain of his words. He’s been avoiding me for almost a year because I kissed him. He must think I’m disgusting.

“Sorry,” I whisper, tears sliding past the tipping point and over the rim. I wipe them away with my hands and wonder if I should leave.

“Don’t be sorry, Belén. I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he says, pulling my hair away from my face. I look down and nod. I never should have come up here.

“You’re beautiful and smart and good in every way. You’re perfect, Belén, and I shouldn’t—I was taking advantage of you.”

“I’m not that innocent,” I say and look into his eyes. “And I wanted to kiss you.”

“I don’t want to be the bad guy,” he says, and I don’t really know what he means. “You are the best part of my life and I want it to stay that way.”

“You’ve never been the bad guy, Luciano. Ever. And for the record, I still want to kiss you.”

Holy shit!
I said it. It may have taken me ages but it bubbled its way to the surface.

Lucky looks at me and the look is enough to stop the earth’s rotation.

“I would do so many things to you if I could,” he says, leaning in and murmuring it straight into my ear. His lips brush against my earlobe and set off little points of shivering all over my body. They run up my shoulders and skim across the back of my neck. It feels like magic. Lucky has always been made out of magic for me. But right now he’s enchanted and so is this night. The shivers turn into points of heat and I can hear my own pulse beat drumming loud in my ears.

“I want you to,” I say, surprised at myself for being so bold.

I always say I want to save myself for marriage, that I don’t want to kiss a bunch of guys who all think they got one over on me. I don’t want to be the girl that’s talked about at school. I don’t want to end up pregnant and single-parenting like Mami and Titi. But what I do want more than anything is for Luciano to take me and use me like he uses those other girls. Even if he throws me away afterward, I still want to live the moments of being what he wants, to drive him crazy with my body, to have his tongue in my mouth. I want to feel him hard on my leg again and stroke him with my hands. I want the little moans and the fast breath, and his hips rolling and pressing. That was Lucky with his guard down. I’ll never shake the memory and I can’t stop myself from wanting it all over again.

In a moment of impulsiveness I grab his hand and pull him hard so that we’re facing one another.

“I want you to kiss me again, Lucky. Please?” It was almost a year ago, but right now it feels like we never left that kitchen.

He raises an eyebrow and looks almost pained. He runs one hand through his hair while the other supports him, elbow locked, his head tipping so that his chin hits his shoulder. He hesitates so long I guess he really doesn’t want to. I’m an idiot. Now he’ll probably make fun of me. Avoid me forever.

“Never mind,” I say and pull my feet in to stand. Lucky grabs my shoulder and forces me to the ground.

“Don’t fucking tell me you want me to kiss you, Belén, and then run away!”

“Never mind, I was wrong. It was stupid. I just got carried away.” I’m crying again. I feel so raw, like I just took off all my clothes and he told me to get dressed again.

Lucky pulls in a deep breath and closes his eyes. He’s sighing. He’s mulling it over. I can’t stand it anymore.

I go in for the kiss.

Boys are supposed to kiss girls, not the other way around. But I want it so bad. I can’t keep going without it happening. My lips are kissing virgins. Lucky’s are the only lips mine know—maybe that’s why they can’t stop wanting him.

I’ve probably lost my mind. But somehow I’m confident that it will be good. I kissed him before and I remember what it was like. Every single second of it—every little tongue stroke, the suction, the velvet feel of his full lips sliding across mine.

He pulls in air when I touch my mouth to his, but he doesn’t open his eyes. I’m on my knees and he’s still reclined on his hands. He moves his mouth to accept the kiss and his arms find their way around me. He squeezes me apprehensively at first, but then tighter and tighter as my mouth melts into his and we join together.

Lucky sits all the way up suddenly and pulls me onto his lap. I can’t tear my mouth from his or open my eyes—this all seems too fragile. All I know is that I want this so badly it hurts. Instead of relief from the kiss, I feel trauma impacting my chest, already afraid of what will happen when it ends. I know that we’re family. I know that I shouldn’t want this. I know that Mami would kill me if she knew I initiated it—that I’m the bad one.

I’m a dirty girl. Just like she always warned me.

Lucky’s hand glides over my cheek and then around to the back of my head. He kisses me long and hard and my heart pounds in my chest. A great beast inside of me is slowly lumbering out of sleep. It yawns and stretches, taking hold of my whole body. The beast lunges forward, hungry for more of what Lucky can give. I don’t quite know what it is, but the beast knows exactly what it wants. My hands are on his chest, in his hair, searching his whole body for an answer. Is this where the world ends? Because what could possibly happen after this?

I whimper and then moan and my hand goes to his fly. I look down at it and back out of the kiss. I don’t think I want sex; I don’t want to touch his penis, but I do need to know that I turn him on. I’m desperate to confirm that I am as able as all of his other women. He looks at me with sleepy guilt, a lusty, sultry stare. His eyes say dirty. His eyes say he does want to go there.

Lucky guides my hand over the bulge in his jeans and I lunge at him, taking his mouth again. It’s my tongue that dives in first, using suction to pull his into my mouth. Another noise releases from deep inside me. The beast has woken up and taken over completely; I’m no longer the same little girl in the kitchen, waiting for him to touch me. Even though I feel confused, my instincts know what to do. I pull down on his zipper and pop the button of his fly. I put my hand inside his boxers and seek the heat of his penis. I gasp when I grab it and he moans into my kiss. I never want to feel another one. Just Lucky. Only this.

“Belén,” he groans, and my name sounds so dirty on his lips.

He’s up on his knees, then he’s over me and lowering me back onto the black tar of the roof. It’s soft and spongy-feeling and still holds heat from the sun. My legs spread involuntarily, welcoming his body to mine. As soon as our bodies come together, I press my groin into his. It feels so right. It feels so good. How could something that feels like this be wrong?

“Belén,” he says again against my lips, never breaking our kiss. I know he wants to tell me no. Remind me that we are cousins. I only want to hear yes from him. With his mouth and with his body. I am dying for him to want me. I’ll do anything for him to give this to me—for him to feel this as much as I’m feeling it. I grab the sides of my white T-shirt and yank it over my head. His eyes say, “What are you doing?” but then he spots my white cotton bra that pushes up my breasts. I can see the battle plainly, playing out on his face.

“This is for you, Lucky. I want to give it to you.” I’m talking about my virginity, my body, my heart, but I can’t articulate the words.

I want his lust to win over every other thought. I want Lucky to take me, to see him lose control. To have him inside of me. I unbutton my shorts and wriggle them down lower on my thighs.

“Please, Lucky,” I whisper.

“Please, what, Belén? Christ!”

“Please don’t tell me no,” I say, rubbing my cotton-panty-covered groin right into his bulge. First, he shakes his head like a drunkard searching for sobriety. Then, he shakes his head angrily and really looks at me.

He pushes back until he’s sitting and bends his knees in, his elbows coming to rest on them. He pushes his face into his hands and then rubs his eyebrows with the heels of his palm.

“FUCK!” he says, shaking his head and looking up at me.

I have my T-shirt clutched to my chest. I’m soaking up my tears with it while I try to gain control. I’ve been rejected and I’m still overflowing with things I want to say, things I want to do.

“I—I got carried away, Belén. I let it go too far.”

“I wanted you to. I want it to be with you, Lucky. Nobody else.” I’ve spent a year waiting for this moment. Over three hundred days hanging on to that single kiss in front of the refrigerator.

“No, Belén. It
can’t
be me. Just keep saving it like you wanted to. Wait for the right guy. It will happen sooner than you think.”

“I don’t want anyone else. I only want you!” I plead, balling my fists at my sides. How can he think I would ever let anyone else touch me like this? He looks over his shoulder and shakes his head in frustration. He can’t say it back. He doesn’t feel the same way I do. Why should he? He’s got Yari and plenty of other women. Maybe they are sexier and do things better than me. Maybe he just doesn’t want to because he thinks I’m disgusting.

I want to say something but all that comes out is a little yelp and an exhale of air. I turn from my cousin and run back to the hatch. Reversing easily back inside, as soon as my feet hit the first rung, I streak down the ladder. I yank my shirt over my head and slip inside my apartment and softly close the door so as not to wake up my mother.

Chapter 9

L
uciano dates lots of girls, and by a lot I mean tons. He dates girls who are seniors, juniors like Yari and some who already graduated but who are, for whatever reason, still hanging around. I don’t date anyone. But I get such great test scores that in eleventh grade, I’m taking almost all AP classes.

I spend my nights studying and Luciano spends his hanging out with friends in the neighborhood or making out with girls, probably going all the way with them. I see him sometimes when I come home late—on the stoop, in the hallway, the corner—in any old place. Sometimes it’s with Yari, which still makes me uncomfortable. Whenever we hang out all she wants to do is talk and complain about Luciano. I’m sure he has sex with her while he’s still doing all the rest. I tell Yari these things but she still doesn’t listen to me. I hope he doesn’t get somebody pregnant because Titi would be so pissed.

I’m working like crazy to get into college. And Luciano is
still
the only boy I’ve ever kissed. Even sadder than that, Luciano is the only boy I’ve ever wanted to kiss.

Titi says Lucky is going to join the service, maybe the army or the marines. She says it’s a good way to see the world. I think it’s a good way to get killed, but Mami told me ten times to leave my opinion out. So I don’t say anything when we talk about the future around Titi and Lucky. He works out all the time so he looks like a grown man. I’m not a perv for saying that because everyone says it. Lucky has bought beer before and no one asked him for ID—they just assumed he was old enough.

So Lucky will go off to the service and I’ll go to college. Maybe he’ll marry one of these girls before he goes so he can have a family to come back to. Yari calls the other girls his whores and gets jealous of all of them. I don’t want to be rude so I hold myself back from pointing out the obvious. Lucky and I don’t talk much. We are uncomfortable when we’re alone. We don’t even hug at family gatherings anymore or walk each other to school.

“Belén!” Mami screeches and I look up from my homework. We’re meeting Hemi and her kids in Times Square to get dinner and watch a movie. If Hemi is coming that means Mami is paying and she’s already in a bad mood. I set my alarm clock now in case I’m too tired to do it when we get home.

Mami is all dolled up in a tight black dress and heels. I have on jeans and a sweater and fuzzy socks to keep my feet warm.

“You look great!” I say, smiling at her reflection.

“Help me with my zipper, baby,” Mami says.

I move her hair before zipping her up. She smells like baby lotion and hairspray and I’ve got an overwhelming urge to hug her.

“I can’t believe this time next year we’ll be getting ready for your graduation. I’m so proud of you, Belén. We always knew you were smart, but you exceeded everybody’s expectations.”

“I just study a lot, that’s all. Mami, don’t embarrass me. And don’t say that kind of stuff in front of Tía Hemi.”

“Oh, now I’m not allowed to be proud of my
only
daughter?” She takes out the two remaining curlers on top of her head and slams them on the counter.

“No, you can be proud, but don’t overdo it. You know my cousins are the last people who want to hear it.”

Mami takes a black eyeliner and darkens the inner rims of her eyes. I love it when she does that because it reminds me of special occasions and how much I loved it when I was little when Mami got all dressed up to go out to a party.

“Luciano always likes to hear how you’re doing,” Mami says. She has hair pins in her mouth and she’s pinning back one side of my hair.

“Luciano hates me because I’m not as cool as he is,” I say flatly, pushing away her hand. “I’ll just wear it down. Come on, we’ll be late and Hemi and the kids will have already eaten half of the restaurant.”

“You two used to be so close, like brother and sister. What happened?” Mami asks as I help her slip her good coat on.

“We grew up, I guess,” I say with a shrug.

“It seems like more than that,” Mami says when we’re leaving as she locks the door to our apartment.

“Oh, well, maybe it has something to do with the fact that he started banging my best friend. Maybe that’s it,” I say, my voice loaded with sarcasm.

Mami throws her head back over her shoulder and glares at me. I look up and Titi and Luciano are standing at the bottom of the landing.

“
Hola
!” Mami says, going in to kiss their cheeks.

Lucky gives me a look that says, “Really?”

I cross my arms over my chest, muttering, “I didn’t know they were coming.”

We ride the train downtown together and Mami and Titi laugh and chat like they haven’t seen each other in years and like they don’t live in the same building. I purposefully don’t sit next to him, but all the way on the other side, next to Mami.

When we arrive in Times Square, I get off the train and walk fast. I can’t even make eye contact with him. I’m sure he thinks I’m sick or like some crazy, sex-starved person. Above ground we wait at the light to cross and I fix my eyes on the far side of the street. I feel him standing next to me but I refuse to even look at him.

“Forget this?” he asks and I whip my head to see. He’s holding my purse out to me by the strap with two of his fingers.

I must have been so nervous that I left it on the train. I didn’t even notice him pick it up for me. My mouth is agape and I shake my head.

“Thanks,” I say, taking the bag from him. I think I’m blushing. He probably thinks I’m a complete moron. A
sex-crazed
complete moron who can’t keep track of her things and is in love with her own cousin.

“Hi,” Lucky says, smiling at me. I’m staring ahead again, but he sticks his friendly smile right in my face. It catches me off-guard and a laugh charges out of me. Lucky laughs too and it at least breaks some of the tension.

We arrive at some loud, noisy, packed Times Square all-you-can-eat restaurant. Hemi is already there and so are her kids. The youngest, Briana, is crying from spilling her drink. Hemi is using a gigantic pile of napkins to mop up the spill. She swears at Raymond and a bunch of heads turn to look at us. Hemi is big, she’s always been big. But right now she’s
really
big, because Tía Hemi is pregnant. Mami and Titi are slim thick but Hemi is huge. As she mops up the spill her whole arm jiggles and her pants ride so low that her ass crack is exposed. Briana and Annalise are fighting, she tosses an ice cube at her sister and it lands right in someone’s chili.

“Oh Lord,” Mami sighs.

“
Dios m
í
o
,” Titi seconds.

“Here, I’ll hang up your coat,” Lucky says, and his hands graze my shoulders.

I exhale hard but my blood pressure rises.

“We cool?” Lucky whispers into my ear as he removes my coat.

“Everything’s good,” I reply, but somehow it comes out almost like a question.

Then Hemi squishes me into a hug, followed by the twins and the other kids until I reach the end of the red-and-white checkered table. They’ve eaten all the free bread; there’s nothing but crusts left in the basket. I sit down and roll my silverware out of the napkin, then look up and smile at my family, feeling determined to have a good time and make myself take advantage by binging on the sundae bar.

I spot Lucky at the coat check flirting with the girl working there. He laughs and his stance changes. It’s fascinating to watch how she immediately softens for him. It’s probably less than twenty seconds before she’s reaching for her phone. I stare at them punching in each other’s phone numbers and I feel sick. His kiss was so beautiful and so extremely special to me. But it’s a kiss he shares with any girl he wants. And they all seem to want him. My heart sinks deep into my chest when he smiles at her. Lucky will never fall in love with me. He’ll never belong to me and trying to make it happen will only eventually hurt worse than this already hurts me.

“Belén!” Mami calls and I snap my eyes to her. “Pass the breadsticks, baby. You’re off in la-la land daydreaming.”

“Sorry,” I say, forcing an apologetic smile.
We cool?
Probably just meant—are
you
cool, Belén? Or are you going to go around acting like a sad fool?

Lucky comes back and talks sports and television and music videos while barely eating anything. He’s loud and gregarious and has the twins and Hemi in stitches, acting full-out a comedy routine from the Caribbean variety show he saw on access TV. I can’t help but laugh too at his imitation of the thickest Dominican accent you ever heard, which isn’t uncommon in our neighborhood. But from the way Lucky is talking, I also think that he’s on something.

Lucky goes off with the twins and Annalise to play in the arcade. I sit with Mami and my aunts and Briana, stirring my ice cream around without really eating it. They ask me about schools and I give the prerecorded answer that I’ve given to everyone, from the high school guidance counselor to the all the old ladies that live in my building.

Sometimes I feel like I’m living out everyone in my family’s fantasy of what they wished they’d done instead of what
I
really want to do. I’m the equalizer, the payment for sins, the second chance in the new generation. I can’t get pregnant, drop out of high school or move to Colorado with a convict, like Mami, Titi and Hemi all did respectively. I can’t swear. I can’t smoke weed or even try drinking beer. I can’t miss curfew, wear too much make-up or even talk like the other girls in the neighborhood. I can’t get stuck in the Heights or move back to the Islands. I can’t complain that I don’t have a dad or wear short skirts that will make the men stare any more than they already do. I can’t be myself. I don’t even know what I want to do.

I deliver my lines about what I want with my future; it’s just a monologue I’ve memorized, not an actual plan that I’m following through with. Mami gets all teary eyed and Titi clasps her hands to her chest. Hemi just snorts at me with disapproval and takes a sip from her gigantic, salted, virgin margarita glass.

The boys and Annalise come back and it takes us forever to get our stuff together, get the bill paid, and get everyone in their jackets and out the door. Lucky gets our coats from the coat check girl. I see how he smiles at her and cocks an eyebrow. He mouths the words “Call me” to her and I might throw up on the floor. Fettuccini Alfredo is staging a revolt. I don’t want to go to the movies anymore, I want to go home. Lucky offers me my coat by holding it up so I can slip my arms into it.

“Madame,” he says, smiling.

I smile a little, but I’m not falling for it. Waste your charm on somebody else, Lucky. It hurts me too much.

“’Cause we’re rich people with manners,” I say instead. “Just look at Auntie Hemi.”

Hemi is stashing all the arcade tokens, even picking them up off of the floor. And God knows why because we’ll probably never come back here. She’s piling all of the leftovers into a bag she produced from her purse.

“Hemi is special, just look at her shirt,” Lucky says and smiles again. “What do you think that means?”

Hemi has on shirt that says “Bitch A$$” – I don’t know where she even gets these things.

“I guess she does have a lot of mouths to feed,” I say.

“Hemi is going to feed her own mouth, Belén, and you know it.”

A light snow is falling when we step out of the restaurant. The air has warmed up, so what hits the ground disappears into slush. The pavement is wet and covered in a kaleidoscope of colors reflected off the garish lights of Times Square. Lucky and I trail behind everyone and it almost feels like old times.

Me and Luciano. Always together. Practically inseparable.

He’s my closest family member besides my mom. The thought makes heat rush all through my body. I feel awful for my desire. I think God must have left out something crucial when he made me. I remember learning in school that “disgust” is an emotion. Just like love, or fear, it’s not something you choose. Maybe God left it out of me, or he forgot to put it in. I want Lucky to love me, and not in a brotherly way.

At the theatre we of course make a scene. Briana is crying again and Auntie Hemi is dumping practically her entire purse out on the floor to find her wallet. Her butt crack is exposed again for the viewing pleasure of the other eight hundred people in line. Then Hemi can’t find her debit card so Mami has to pay. Next Raymond is smoking and Hemi hits him over the head when she catches him. How stupid do you gotta be to smoke in the line standing four people back from your mom when you don’t want her to see?

Lucky groans and then laughs. I laugh with him and it feels good to commiserate. Hemi and her crew are always good for a distraction. Then we argue about the movie, because all of the kids want to see the action, but Mami says Briana is too young and that we should go to the Disney. There’s a romance that I would rather watch but I’m too shy to make a pitch for it in the deafening chaos of shouting.

In the end, the boys go to the action flick with Lucky as chaperone, because he’s the “responsible one” in the bunch. Mami, Hemi and Titi go to Disney with Annalise and Briana. I’m the only one who gets a ticket for the romance. Then in line for the concession everybody starts arguing again. I separate from the group to go watch the big screen trailers on the far wall. I’m about to duck into my theater when Lucky spots me. He’s carrying a large container of popcorn and already chowing down with one hand.

“Hey, Belén, where you going?”

“I’m going to see this one,” I say. Where the hell has he been?

“Alone?” he asks and it’s loud enough for a few people to turn their heads.

“Yes, alone.” Okay, I’m a loser. But I rarely get to go to the movies and I’d like to see one that I’m actually interested in.

“What is it?” Lucky asks, screwing up his face like he’s confused.

“A romance,” I say. “Chick flick, girl movie. You wouldn’t like it.”

“Hold up, let me get these losers settled and then I’ll come and find you.” He says it so casually, as if we were all the way back to normal.

I feel the rush of excitement go from my heart to my head. It moves so fast that I might pass out—either that or keel over from a heart attack. Act normal. Don’t pee yourself. He felt bad because you were going alone. Calm down, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a movie, not an engagement or a proclamation of love. But see, that’s the problem, everything means something to me and it all means nothing to him. I’m just his kid cousin and he probably already forgot that he kissed me a couple of years ago.

He takes forever to come over and I begin to think he’s ditched. I even sat at the back, far away from everyone, to make sure he couldn’t miss me. I have to put my glasses on so I can see the screen. The previews are good. I would see every one of these films.

“Belén!” I hear him shout, short and clipped, followed by a whistle. A whistle I know from my grandfather’s farm in Santiago. A whistle that our moms would use when we stayed out too late on the playground or got lost in the grocery store. I simply raise my hand and he beelines toward me.