Perfect Chemistry

Page 25

 

  Alex studies the picture of his dad. "At the time, youre numb and try to block it out. I mean, you know hes gone and all, but its like youre in this fog. Then life kind of gets into a routine and you follow it. " He shrugs. "Eventually you stop thinkin about it so much and move on. Theres no other choice. "

  "Its kind of like a test. " I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the opposite wall. I absently run my fingers through my hair.

  "Youre always doin that. "

  "Doing what?"

  "Fixin your hair or makeup. "

  "So, whats wrong with trying to look good?"

  "Nothin, unless it becomes an obsession. "

  I put my hands down, wishing I could superglue them to my sides. "Im not obsessed. "

  He shrugs. "Is it so important that people think youre beautiful?"

  "I dont care what people think," I lie.

  " Cause you are . . . beautiful, I mean. But it shouldnt matter so much. "

  I know that. But expectations mean a lot where I come from. Speaking of expectations . . . "What did Mrs. Peterson say to you after class?"

  "Oh, the usual. That if I dont take her class seriously shell make my life miserable. "

  I swallow, not knowing if I should reveal my plan. "Im going to tell her you switched the tests. "

  "Dont do that," he says, stepping away from me.

  "Why not?"

  "Because it doesnt matter. "

  "Yes, it does. You need good grades to get into . . . "

  "What? A good college? Give me a fuckin break. Im not goin to college and you know it. You rich kids worry about your GPA as if its a symbol of your worth. I dont need it, so dont do me any favors. Ill get by with a C in that class. Just make sure those hand warmers kick ass. "

  If I have anything to do about it, well get an A+ on the project.

  "Wheres your room?" I ask, changing the subject. I drop my book bag on the living room floor. "A bedroom tells a lot about a person. "

  He gestures to a doorway off to one side. Three beds take up most of the small space, with enough room for one small dresser. I walk around the small room.

  "I share it with my two brothers," he states. "Not a lot of privacy here. "

  "Let me guess which bed is yours," I say, smiling.

  I scan the areas around each bed. A small picture of a pretty Hispanic girl is taped to one wall. "Hmmm . . . ," I murmur, glancing at Alex and wondering if the girl staring back at me is his ideal.

  I slowly walk around him and examine the next bed. Pictures of soccer players are taped above it. The bed is messy, and clothes are strewn from the pillow to the foot of the bed.

  Nothing adorns the wall by the third bed, as if the person who sleeps here is a visitor. Its almost sad, the first two walls saying so much about the people who sleep below them and this one totally bare.

  I sit on Alexs bed, the hopeless and empty one, and my eyes meet his. "Your bed says a lot about you. "

  "Yeah? What does it say?"

  "I wonder why you dont think youll stay here long," I say. "Unless its because you really do want to go to college. "

  He leans on the door frame. "Im not leavin Fairfield. Ever. "

  "Dont you want a degree?"

  "Now you sound like the damn career counselor at school. "

  "You dont want to get away and start living your own life? Away from your past?"

  "You see goin to college as an escape," he says.

  "Escape? Alex, you have no clue. Im going to a college thats close to my sister. First it was Northwestern, now its the University of Colorado. My life is dictated by the whims of my parents and where they want to send my sister. You want the easy way out, so you stay here. "

  "You think its a breeze being the man of the house? Shit, makin sure my mama doesnt get mixed up with some loser or that my brothers dont start shootin shit up their arms or smokin crack is enough to keep me here. "

  "Im sorry. "

  "I warned you never to pity me. "

  "No," I say, my eyes moving up to meet his. "You feel such a family connection, yet you dont place anything permanent beside your bed, as if youre going to leave at any moment. I feel sorry for you about that. "

  He steps back, shutting me out. "You done with the psychoanalysis?" he says.

  I follow him into the family room, still wondering what Alex wants for his future. It seems the guy is ready to leave this house . . . or this earth. Could it be in some way Alex is preparing for his death by not placing anything permanent beside him? That hes destined to end up like his father?

  Is that what he meant by his demons?

  For the next two hours, we sit on his family room couch and hatch a plan for our hand warmers. Hes a lot smarter than Id realized; that A on his test wasnt a fluke. He has a lot of ideas about how we can research online and get information from the library on how to construct the hand warmers and various uses for them to incorporate into our paper. We need the chemicals Mrs. Peterson will provide, Ziploc bags to enclose the chemicals, and to get extra brownie points weve decided to encase the Ziploc bags in material well pick out at the fabric store. I purposely keep the discussion on chemistry, careful not to touch on any subject too personal.

  As I close my chemistry book, out of the corner of my eye I see Alex run his hand through his hair. "Listen, I didnt mean to be rude to you before. "

  "Thats okay. I got too nosy. "

  "Youre right. "

  I stand, feeling uncomfortable. He grabs my arm and urges me back down.

  "No," he says, "I mean youre right about me. I dont place anything permanent here. "

  "Why?"

  "My dad," Alex says, staring at the picture on the opposite wall. He squeezes his eyes shut. "God, there was so much blood. " He opens his eyes and captures my gaze. "If theres one thing I learned, its that nobody is here forever. You have to live for the moment, each and every day . . . the here, the now. "

  "And what do you want right now?" Right now I itch to heal his wounds and forget my own.

  He touches my cheek with the tips of his fingers.

  My breath hitches. "Do you want to kiss me, Alex?" I whisper.

  "Dios mio, I want to kiss you . . . to taste your lips, your tongue. " He gently traces my lips with the tips of his fingers. "Do you want me to kiss you? Nobody else would know but the two of us. "

  CHAPTER 32 Alex

  Brittanys tongue snakes out to wet her perfect heart-shaped lips, which are now shiny and oh, so inviting.

  "Dont tease me like that," I groan, my lips inches from hers.

  Her books hit the carpet. Her eyes follow, but if I lose her attention, I may never get this moment back. My fingers move to her chin, gently urging her to look at me.

  She looks up at me with those vulnerable eyes. "What if it means something?" she asks.

  "What if it does?"

  "Promise me it wont mean anything. "

  I lean my head back on the couch. "It wont mean anythin. " Arent I supposed to be the guy in this scenario, laying down the no-commitment rules?

  "And no tongue," she adds.

  "Mi vida, if I kiss you, I guarantee theres gonna be tongue. "

  She hesitates.

  "I promise it wont mean anythin," I assure her again.

  I really dont expect her to do it. I think shes teasing me, testing to see how much I can take before I crack. But as her eyelids close and she leans closer, I realize its going to happen. This girl of my dreams, this girl who is more like me than anyone Ive ever met, wants to kiss me.

  I take over control as soon as she tilts her head. Our lips touch for the briefest moment before I lace my fingers in her hair and keep kissing her soft and gentle. I cup her cheek in my palm, feeling her baby-soft skin against my rough fingers. My body urges me to take advantage of the situation, but my brain (the one inside my head) keeps me in check.

  A satisfied sigh escapes Brittanys mouth, as if shes content to stay in my
arms forever.

  I brush the tip of my tongue against her lips, enticing her to open her mouth. She tentatively meets my tongue with her own. Our mouths and tongues mingle in a slow, erotic dance until the sound of the front door opening makes her jerk away.

  Damn. Im pissed off. First, for losing myself in Brittanys kiss. Second, for wanting that moment to last forever. Last, Im pissed at miama and brothers for coming home at the most awful time.

  I watch Brittany trying to look busy as she bends down and picks up her books. My mother and brothers are standing in the doorway with their eyes bugged out.

  "Hey, Ma," I say, more flustered than I should be.

  From the stern look on miamas face, I know shes not pleased at catching us making out like there was a promise of more to come.

  "Luis and Carlos, go to your bedroom," she orders, stepping into the room and composing herself. "Arent you going to introduce me to your friend, Alejandro?"

  Brittany stands, books in hand. "Hi, Im Brittany. " Even with her sun-kissed hair mussed from my fingers and the motorcycle ride, shes still kick-ass beautiful. Brittany extends her hand in greeting. "Alex and I were studying chemistry. "

  "What I saw wasnt studying," my ma says, ignoring her hand.

  Brittany winces.

  "Mama, leave her alone," I say roughly.

  "My home is not a whorehouse. "

  "Por favor, Mama," I say, exasperated. "We were only kissin. "

  "Kissing leads to making ninos, Alejandro. "

  "Lets get out of here," I say, totally embarrassed. I whip my jacket off the couch and shrug into it.

  "Im sorry if I disrespected you in any way, Mrs. Fuentes," Brittany says, visibly upset.

  My mother takes the groceries shes carrying, ignoring the apology as she walks into the kitchen.

  When were outside, I hear Brittany take a deep breath. I swear it sounds as if shes holding herself together by a thin thread. Not the way its supposed to go down: bring girl home, kiss girl, mom insults girl, girl leaves crying.

  "Dont sweat it. Shes just not used to me bringin girls in the house. "

  Brittanys expressive blue eyes appear remote and cold. "That shouldnt have happened," she says, throwing back her shoulders in a stance as stiff as a statues.

  "What? The kiss or you likin it so much?"

  "I have a boyfriend," she says as she fidgets with the strap on her designer book bag.

  "You tryin to convince me, or yourself?" I ask her.

  "Dont turn this around. I dont want to upset my friends. I dont want to upset my mom. And Colin . . . Im just really confused right now. "

  I hold out my hands and raise my voice, something I usually avoid because like Paco says, it means I actually care. I dont care. Why should I? My mind says to shut the fuck up at the same time words spout from my mouth. "I dont get it. He treats you like youre his damn prize. "

  "You dont even know what its like with me and Colin. . . . "

  "Tell me, dammit," I say, unable to hide the edge to my voice. Initially I hold myself back from what I really want to say, but I cant resist and tell it to her straight up. " Cause that kiss back there . . . it meant somethin. You know it as well as I do. I dare you to tell me bein with Colin is better than that. "