More Than Comics (11 page)

But…how?

Even if I ignored my feelings for him the fact remained that in New York I wouldn’t know anyone, whereas in LA I’d know Hector and his friends. If everything else was equal then having friends in a new city definitely edged one out over the other. But if this thing with Hector ended badly, I’d wind up alone in LA, too.

I had to make my decision without factoring him in…somehow.

“Tell me about LA,” I said, as we walked along the brightly lit streets packed with people in cosplay and pedicabs decorated with advertising. “I’ve never been. What’s it like?”

“Um, I’ve lived there my whole life, so I’m not sure how to compare it to anywhere else. It’s crazy expensive to live there. It’s big and spread out. There’s a shitload of traffic and public transportation sucks. The weather is great year-round, but you’ll probably miss having a real winter with snow and stuff.”

So far he wasn’t making it sound too appealing, almost like he
wanted
me to choose New York. “Cold weather is fun for the first month or two, then it gets old pretty fast. What else?”

“There’s a million things to do there. Shopping, clubs, beaches, hiking, restaurants of every type of cuisine you can think of….” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Shit, I don’t know. I’m starting to sound like a tour guide or something.”

“Okay, then tell me something
you
love about LA.”

“Hmm. I like the music scene, obviously. Love the art museums. I’ve spent many hours wandering through LACMA and the Getty.”

I smiled at the image of big, brooding Hector spending all day in an art museum. It was one of my favorite things about him—he was this perfect image of hulking masculinity, yet completely owned the fact that he was an artist, too.

We turned onto a quieter street before he spoke again. “But I guess my favorite thing is the diversity. Anyone can find a place to belong there. Queer, straight, brown, white, vegan, goth, hipster, whatever—it’s all good. No one bats an eyelash at me being in a band with two white boys. Or when my cousin Carlos married another guy, no one freaked out. Well, except my
abuelita
, but she’s old fashioned to the extreme. And even she got over it pretty fast.”

A place to belong. The one thing I’d been searching for my entire life. “That sounds nice. And so different from where I grew up.”

“Your parents would probably freak out if you brought home a Mexican guy, eh?”

Was he implying that he wanted to meet my parents? I tried to study his face, but it was hard to read his expression in the dark. “Maybe, but I’m used to their disapproval.”

I’d grown up in a huge, conservative Midwestern family complete with stay-at-home mom, white picket fence, and Golden Retriever. It sounded idyllic, but as I’d mentioned at the
Misfit Squad
panel, I’d always been an outcast. My small town in Nebraska had been suffocating and I’d escaped the first chance I could.

It was only once I started college in Boston that my eyes opened to a bigger world with all sorts of different people in it. I discovered just how sheltered I’d been my entire life, and that I wasn’t fundamentally flawed or inherently strange for being different. Now I felt like a stranger every time I returned home.

My family loved me, of course, but they’d always thought I was crazy for reading books instead of watching football, for staying in to write stories instead of going to parties, or for wanting more from my life than following in my mother’s footsteps and popping out babies as soon as I could. I didn’t think a single one of them had read
Misfit Squad
yet, though they’d all said how proud they were of me. And it was true, they wouldn’t love the idea of me dating a Mexican guy either.

Good thing I didn’t care what they thought.

“What about your grandmother?” I asked. “Would she be upset if you brought home a white girl?”

“Nah. I’m sure she’d love it if I married some super traditional Mexican girl who spoke perfect Spanish and could make tortillas from scratch, but that’s not going to happen. In the end, she just wants me to be happy.”

I tried not to read too much into his words, but I so wanted to be the girl who made him happy. How had that happened? Yesterday, I’d only seen him as a friend, and now I wanted him to take me home to meet his family. It scared me a little, how quickly my feelings had changed for him and how fast this was progressing. We were almost, but not quite, talking about a future together. Feeling things out without making any actual plans or firm commitments to each other. Skirting the line into dangerous territory but not yet crossing over it.

Time to bring the conversation back to safer waters. “Will she and your sisters be okay with you gone for the next month?”

“They’ll be fine. Rosalia just turned sixteen so she’s old enough to help look after Yasmine and Ana now. I hate to leave them for that long but this tour is important, and we’re getting some good money for it. Enough that I’ll be able to send a bunch home to my parents, too.”

“Have you spoken to your parents recently?” I asked softly, knowing it was a difficult subject for him.

“Last week, after the show ended. They were able to watch it while it was on TV, which was cool.” He sighed. “I wanted to visit them this summer but the timing didn’t work out. Maybe after the tour. I haven’t seen them in forever.”

Hector’s parents had been deported to Mexico when he was thirteen. He and his three little sisters had all moved in with his grandmother, and he still lived with them so he could help out with the bills and taking care of them. He rarely talked about it—or about anything involving his past—but I knew it was a heavy burden on him sometimes. And that he missed his parents like crazy.

“I wish I could help them out more,” he continued. “Find a way to get them back here.”

I took his hand in mine, wishing I could help
him
in some way. “You do everything you can, and more.”

“I hate that they haven’t been around for most of my sisters’ lives. Rosalia’s driving now, Yasmine just got her first boyfriend, and Ana started wearing makeup. Shit, they’re all growing up way too fast if you ask me, and our parents are
missing
it.”

He sounded so pained, it made my heart ache for him. “Maybe with the money from your new recording deal you’ll be able to visit them more.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

I squeezed his hand and made my voice light, trying to brighten the mood. “I’ve heard so much about your sisters. I’d love to meet them sometime.”

His shoulders relaxed and he returned the squeeze. “They wanted to come to Comic-Con so bad. Especially Yasmine. She’s obsessed with that
Arrow
show and told me to get the guy’s autograph.”

“That guy
is
pretty hot. He’s always running around half-naked on the show, like they have some shirtless quota to fill every episode. Not that I’m complaining. I mean, those abs, my god.”

“You trying to make me jealous? Maybe I should take my shirt off so you won’t think about that other guy.”

I laughed, relieved he was joking around again. “I wouldn’t complain if you did. You have incredible abs, too.”

“Oh yeah?” He quickly tugged his black shirt over his head. “Done.”

He shouldn't be allowed to remove his shirt like that without some kind of warning first. I shoved him lightly in the side, mainly so I could touch him. “Show off.”

He grinned and flexed his arms in an exaggerated way, and it was hard not to stare at his rippling muscles. “Sorry, should I put my shirt back on?”

“No, definitely not. In fact, you should never wear a shirt again. You’d be doing the world a favor.”

He let out a deep, hearty laugh that rumbled down my spine, and it made my day knowing I’d caused it. I made a resolution to try to make him laugh more often.

Ahead of us, a girl yelled, “Oh my god!” She dragged her friend down the sidewalk, and they were both dressed in identical Slave Leia costumes from
Return Of The Jedi
. “You’re Hector, from Villain Complex!”

Hector didn’t move to put his shirt back on, but he shifted on his feet, like he wanted to bolt. “Hey…”

“Your band is so freaking hot,” Slave Leia No. 2 said, leaning forward and drawing attention to her barely there gold top and impressive cleavage. “I watched every episode of
The Sound
.”

“Me, too,” the first one said. She played with her long braid, her eyes glued to Hector’s naked chest. “I love you guys.”

“Um, thanks,” he said.

“Aren’t you two cold in those costumes?” I asked, eyeing their exposed legs. I wasn’t wearing much more than them, but I wanted to make it clear that I was with Hector.

They cast me a confused glance, like they wondered what I was doing there. The first Slave Leia took a step closer to Hector, invading his personal space. “Hey, you want to come party with us?”

The second girl moved in too, licking her lips. “It’ll be fun, we promise.”

I didn’t have a violent bone in my body, yet I had the sudden, primal urge to growl and shove them back, to make sure they knew he was mine. My god, what had gotten into me?

“Sorry, I’m busy tonight.” Hector placed a hand on the small of my back, an intimate gesture not lost on them…or on me.

“She can come along, if you want,” Slave Leia No. 2 said, with another brief glance my way.

I laughed. “Yeah, that’s going to happen, oh…how about
never
.”

Hector tried to suppress a grin. “Thanks for the offer, but we’re good.”

We walked away, his hand a steady, almost possessive presence on my lower back. I leaned against his side and the heat rising off his skin enveloped me.

Sorry ladies, Hector was all mine. At least for the next few days.

I nudged him with my hip. “You better put your shirt back on. I don’t want any other girls getting ideas.”

“That was unusual. They always go for Jared, or sometimes Kyle. Never me.” He removed his Villain Complex hat and shoved it into his jeans, shaking his hair out. “Not sure I like the attention.”

“No? I thought every guy dreamed of scantily clad women inviting him for a threesome.”

He pinned me with his smoldering dark eyes. “Not this guy.”

The intensity of his gaze took my breath away. The chemistry between us was thick, the desire so strong I could practically smell it in the air. He was still shirtless, a large, handsome, solid mountain of a man. A mountain I wanted to climb and conquer.

We entered the hotel and his hand slipped lower, to the top of my butt, pressing into the thin fabric of my dress. As we stepped into the elevator my eyes trailed from his hips up his defined chest to his strong jaw shadowed by dark stubble. I had the strongest urge to press my lips to it, to feel that roughness against my mouth. He had to know what he was doing to me standing there in nothing but his jeans.

He didn’t hit the button for his floor, and I didn’t comment on it. My breath quickened at the thought of him coming to my room. I wasn’t sure what we were doing, but didn’t want to stop. Inviting him inside would only complicate things further between us. The more time I spent with him, the more I never wanted to let him go, and the harder my decision got.

Once at my room, he leaned against the door, the sexual masculinity practically rolling off him. “Are you camping with us tonight in the Hall H line?”

I reached up to wrap my finger around one of his short curls, unable to help myself. “I don’t know…”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. We have food, alcohol, and Cards Against Humanity. What more could you want?”

I laughed. “A warm bed?”

“I’ll keep you warm. Although I have to warn you, I only have one sleeping bag…”

Well, that settled it. The thought of sleeping against Hector under the stars was too good to pass up. “Okay. Just give me a minute to change my clothes.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes roved up and down my body in a way that sent a rush of warmth between my thighs. “Cause I could look at you in that costume all night long.”

The chemistry between us threatened to combust at any moment. Screw it, we’d both agreed to have fun for the rest of Comic-Con—and I had a great idea how to start.

“I could keep it on a little longer.” I slipped my fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and pulled him closer. “Do you want to come inside?”

CHAPTER TWELVE
HECTOR

A
s soon as the door shut, we were on each other. My discarded shirt hit the floor while our bodies and mouths joined in a desperate, hungry crush. Tara’s hands were instantly on my chest, stroking me all over like she couldn’t get enough of my skin. I knew exactly how she felt.

I pressed rough kisses down her delicate neck to her bare shoulder to the top of her lush, soft breasts. They’d been shoved up and forced together thanks to her tight corset, nearly exposing her nipples. I sucked on them through the fabric, scraping at them with my teeth, making her whimper.

She tangled her fingers in my hair and yanked me back to her lips. Any worries about what we were doing vanished as she slipped her tongue into my mouth. Our future together was uncertain, but none of that mattered when she kissed me like that.

“Ever since you took your shirt off, I’ve been dying to do this,” she said, licking across my jaw and down my neck, sending hot sparks throughout my entire body.

“Your costume has been driving me crazy all night,” I said, though it came out more like a growl. “That corset. That short dress. Those boots. I’ve been walking around hard for the past hour.”

“Have you?” She slipped a hand between us to check the front of my jeans and I groaned as she rubbed me there.

“Damn, girl. I wanted to go slower this time, but you’re making that difficult.”

“I don’t want slow. Or gentle. Not tonight.”

“Thank god.”

I gripped her ass and yanked her against me, grinding her hips against mine. She kissed me with the same ferocity while I slid a hand down her thigh, forcing up the bottom of her dress, finding the edge of her panties. I tore at them, pushing them aside, and she moaned against my mouth as I made contact. Fuck, she was already so warm and slick and ready for me, and I had barely even touched her.