Perfect Chemistry 1 (28 page)

what the hell is going on, mi'ama smiles at Hector playfully and laughs

at something he said. I'm obviously being paranoid.

Hours pass and darkness falls on the city. The party is still going

strong when we walk to the car. On the drive back to Fairfield, we're

both quiet.

"Come here," I say softly when I park in the auto body's back lot.

She leans over the middle console, closing the distance between us.

"I had an amazing time," she whispers. "Well, besides when I hid in the

bathroom . . . and you threatened that guy."

"Forget about that and kiss me," I say.

I weave my hands in her hair. She wraps her arms around my neck

as I trace the valley between her lips with my tongue. Parting her lips,

I deepen the kiss. It's like a tango, first moving slow and rhythmic and

then, when we're both panting and our tongues collide, the kiss turns

into a hot, fast dance I never want to end. Carmen's kisses may have

been hot, but Brittany's are more sensual, sexy, and extremely

addictive.

We're still in the car, but it's cramped and the front seats don't

give us enough room. Before I know it, we've moved to the backseat.

Still not ideal, but I hardly notice.

I'm so getting into her moans and kisses and hands in my hair. And

the smell of vanilla cookies. I'm not going to push her too far tonight.

But without thinking, my hand slowly moves up her bare thigh.

"It feels so good," she says breathlessly.

I lean her back while my hands explore on their own. My lips caress

the hollow of her neck as I ease down the strap to her dress and bra.

In response, she unbuttons my shirt. When it's open, her fingers roam

over my chest and shoulders, searing my skin.

"You're . . . perfect," she pants.

Right now I'm not gonna argue with her. Moving lower, my tongue

follows a path down to her silky skin exposed to the night air. She

grabs the back of my hair, urging me on. She tastes so damn good. Too

good.

!Caramelo!

I pull away a few inches and capture her gaze with mine, those

shining sapphires glowing with desire. Talk about perfect.

"I want you, chula," I say, my voice hoarse. She presses against my

erection, the pleasure-pain almost unbearable. But when I start to pull

her panties down, she stills my hand and pushes it away.

"I . . . I'm not ready for that. Alex, stop."

I move off her and sit back in the seat, waiting for my body to cool

down. I can't look at her as she adjusts her straps, covering her body

again. Shit, I went too fast. I told myself not to get too excited, to

keep my wits when I'm with this girl. Raking my hand through my hair, I

let out a slow breath. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. It's not your fault. I urged you on and you have

every right to be pissed off. Listen, I just got out of a relationship

with Colin and I've got a lot of stuff going on at home." She puts her

face in her hands. "I'm so confused." She grabs her purse and opens

the door.

I follow her, my black shirt open and flying in the wind behind me

like a vampire's cape. Either that or the grim reaper's. "Brittany, wait."

"Please . . . open the door to the garage. I need my car."

"Don't go."

I press the keypad code.

"I'm sorry," she says once more.

"Stop sayin' that. Listen, no matter what happened, I'm not with

you just to get into your pants. I got carried away with the way we

clicked tonight, your vanilla scent that I wanted to keep inhalin'

forever and . . . shit, I really messed this up, didn't I?"

Brittany climbs inside her car. "Can we take it slow, Alex? This is

going way too fast for me."

"Yeah," I say, nodding. I keep my hands in my pockets, resisting the

urge to pull her out of the car.

And dammit if Brittany doesn't drive away.

I'd been caught up in her exploring eager hands and went

overboard. I forget about everything except her when her body is

close.

The bet.

This thing with Brittany is supposed to be about a bet, not falling

for a north sider. I have to keep in mind that I'm only interested in

Brittany because of the bet, and I better ignore what I suspect are

real feelings.

Feelings can't be a part of this game.

FORTY-ONE : Brittany

I pull into a McDonald's where I can be anonymous, change into

jeans and a pink wrap-around sweater, and drive home.

I'm scared because with Alex, it feels too raw. When I'm with

Alex, everything is way more intense. My feelings, my emotions, my

desire. I was never addicted to Colin, never wanted to be with him

twenty-four/seven. I crave Alex. Oh, God. I think I'm falling in love

with him.

But I know loving someone means losing a part of myself. And

tonight, in the car when Alex reached under my dress, I was afraid of

losing control. My entire life is about staying in control, so this is not

good. It scares me.

I walk through the front door of my house, ready to sneak up to my

room and put the dress in my closet.

Unfortunately, my mom is standing in the foyer, waiting for me.

"Where were you?" my mother asks sternly while holding up my

chemistry book and folder. "You said you were working out, then

studying with that Hernandez boy."

Busted. Time to either shut up or fess up. "His last name is

Fuentes, not Hernandez. And yes, I was with him."

Silence.

My mother's lips are in a tight, thin line. "It's obvious you weren't

studying. What do you have in that gym bag?" she demands. "Drugs?

Are you hiding drugs in there?"

"I don't do drugs," I respond sharply.

She cocks an eyebrow and points to my bag. "Open it," she orders.

I huff and kneel down to unzip it. I feel like a jail inmate. Pulling

out my dress, I hold it up.

"A dress?" my mother asks.

"I went to a wedding with Alex. His cousin got married."

"That boy made you lie to me. He's manipulating you, Brittany."

"He didn't make me lie, Mom," I say, exasperated. "Give me a little

credit, would you? I did it all on my own."

Her anger is in full swing, I can tell by the way her eyes are blazing

and her hands are shaking. "If I ever . . . EVER find you were out with

that boy again, I'll have no problem convincing your father that you

should be sent to boarding school the rest of your senior year. Don't

you think I have enough to worry about with Shelley? Promise me you'll

have no other contact with him outside of school."

I promise, then run to my room and call Sierra.

"What's up?" she says.

"Sierra, I need a best friend right now."

"And you chose me? Gee, I'm flattered," she says dryly.

"Okay, I lied to you. I like Alex. Big-time."

Silence.

"Sierra, are you there? Or are you ignoring me?"

"I'm not ignoring you, Brit. I'm just wondering why you chose to

tell me now."

"Because I need to talk about it. With you. Do you hate me?"

"You're my best friend," she says.

"And you're mine."

"Best friends are still best friends even though one decides to

abandon all reason and date a gangbanger. Right?"

"I hope so."

"Brit, don't lie to me ever again."

"I won't. And you can share the info with Doug as long as he

promises to keep it to himself."

"Thanks for trusting me, Brit. You may not think it means a lot, but

it does."

After I finish the entire story and I hang up with Sierra feeling

really good that things are back to normal with her, my phone rings.

It's Isabel.

"I have to talk to you," Isabel says when I answer.

"What is it?"

"Did you see Paco today?"

Umm . . so much for secrets. "Yeah."

"Did you mention me?"

"No. Why? Did you want me to?"

"No. Yes. Oh, I don't know. I'm so confused."

"Isabel, just tell him how you feel. It worked for me with Alex."

"Yeah, but you're Brittany Ellis."

"You want to know what it's like being Brittany Ellis? I'll tell you.

I'm insecure, just like anyone else. And have more pressure on me to

put on an act, so people's image of me isn't shattered and they don't

see that I'm really just like anyone else. And that makes me more

vulnerable, and more scrutinized, and more susceptible to gossip."

"So I guess you probably won't be happy about the rumors

spreading about you and Alex within my group of friends. Do you want

to know what they are?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. If you consider yourself my friend, don't tell me."

Because if I know the rumors, I'll feel like I have to confront

them. And right this second I want to live in ignorant bliss.

FORTY-TWO : Alex

After having Brittany speed out of the body shop to get away from

me, I'm not feeling like talking and hope to avoid mi'ama when I get

home. But one glance at the living room sofa puts that wish to rest.

The television is off, the lights are low, and my brothers have

probably been sent to our bedroom.

"Alejandro," she starts. "I didn't want this life for us."

"I know."

"I hope Brittany doesn't put ideas in your head that shouldn't be

there."

I shrug. "Like what? That she hates I'm in a gang? You may not

have chosen this life for me, but you sure as hell didn't protest when I

got jumped in."

"Don't talk like that, Alejandro."

"Because the truth is too painful? I'm in a gang to protect you and

my brothers, Mama. You know that, even though we don't talk about it,"

I say, my voice getting louder to match my frustration. "It's a choice I

made a long time ago. You can pretend you didn't encourage me, but," I

pull off my shirt, revealing my Latino Blood tattoos, "look at me real

good. I'm a gangbanger, just like Papa. You want me to deal drugs, too?"

Tears stream down her face. "If I thought there was another way-

-"

"You were too scared to leave this shithole, and now we're stuck.

Don't put your guilt on me, or my girl."

"That's not fair," she says, rising.

"What's not fair is you livin' like a widow in perpetual mourning

since Papa died. Why don't we move back to Mexico? Tell Uncle Julio

he wasted his life's savings sendin' us to America. Or are you afraid to

go back to Mexico and tell your family that you failed here?"

"We are not having this discussion."

"Open your eyes." I stretch my arms out wide. "What do you have

here worth stayin' for? Your sons? 'Cause that's a copout. Is this the

image of the American Dream to you?" I point to the shrine of my

father. "He was a gangbanger, not a saint."

"He had no choice," she cries. "He protected us."

"And now I'm protectin' us. You gonna have a shrine of me when I

get whacked? And Carlos? Because he's next in line, you know. And Luis

after him."

Mi'ama slaps me hard, then backs away. Dios mio, I hate that I

upset her. I reach out to her, my fingers wrapping around her arm to

hug her and apologize, but she winces. "Mama?" I question, wondering

what's wrong. I wasn't rough with her, but she's acting like I was.

She wrenches herself out of my grasp and turns away, but I can't

let it go. I step forward and lift up the sleeve of her dress. To my

horror I find a nasty bruise on her upper arm. Its purple, black, and

blue hues stare back at me, and my mind rushes back to the wedding

when I saw my mom and Hector in a private discussion.

"Hector did this to you?" I question softly.

"You have to stop asking questions about your papa," she tells me,

quickly pulling down her sleeve to cover the bruise.

Rage rumbles in my gut and spreads as I realize mi'ama got bruised

as a warning to me. "Why? Who is Hector trying to protect?" Is he

protecting someone in the LB, or another gang member affiliated with

the LB? I wish I could just ask Hector. Even more, I'd like to retaliate

and kick his ass for hurting my mom, but Hector is untouchable. We all

know if I challenge Hector, it'll be as if I'm turning on the Blood.

She glares at me. "Don't question me on this. There are things you

don't know, Alejandro. Things you should never know. Just let it go."

"You think living in ignorance is a good thing? Papa was a gang

member who dealt drugs. I'm not afraid of the truth, dammit. Why is

everyone around me covering up the truth?"

My hands feel clammy as I hold them stiffly at my sides. A sound

from the hallway catches my attention. I turn to see my two brothers,

their eyes wide in confusion.

Fuck.

As soon as she sees Luis and Carlos, she sucks in a breath. I'd do

anything to take the hurt away from her.

I step toward her and put my hand gently on her shoulder. "Perdon,

Mama."

She swipes my hand away as she suppresses a sob and runs to her

room, slamming the door behind her.

"Is it true?" Carlos asks, his voice as tight as a noose.

I nod. "Yeah."

Luis shakes his head and furrows his brows in confusion. "What are

you two saying? I don't understand. I thought Papa was a good man.

Mama always said he was a good man."

I walk over to my little brother and pull his head into my chest.