I was so caught up in avoiding Julian over the years that I failed to notice how much he had matured during that time.
Failed to notice? More like was intent on ignoring.
Red, flashing lights draw my eyes toward his sharp jawline, only for them to steal my attention again as they highlight his soft lips and five o’clock shadow.
Based on my eye for luxury clothes and nose for real Italian leather, I can tell Julian’s outfit tonight has to easily cost ten thousand dollars, a shocking assessment in itself. But despite his pristine suit, perfectly trimmed dark hair, and fancy designer loafers, bits and pieces of the rugged Julian I knew peek through.
The slight bump in his nose after I accidentally broke it with my elbow.
A thin, white scar running across his stubbled cheek from when we thought it was a good idea to compete for who could jump the highest from a swing set.
The firm press of his lips whenever someone speaks to him—a habit he picked up when we were kids to stop himself from talking out of turn.
As if he senses me staring at him, Julian looks in my direction. The dismissive pass of his rich brown eyes over my body should annoy me more than anything, but the goose bumps scattering across my skin show it has the opposite effect.
I turn away from Julian in a rush of self-preservation and allow his mom, Josefina, and mine to fuss over me. The two best friends both have brown hair and eyes, but their different heights, facial features, and personalities set them apart from each other.
Although our mothers became best friends growing up together in Mexico, Julian and I most definitely are not. At best, we’re family friends, while at worst, we’re childhood rivals who turn everything into a competition.
“You’ve lost weight. Are you sure you’ve been eating enough?” Mom pinches my cheeks with a dark, furrowed brow. “What do you think?” She turns me toward Josefina.
Her sour expression confirms my mom’s observation. “It’s nothing some good food can’t fix. You know, panza llena—”
“Corazón contento,” my mom finishes.
Too bad home-cooked food will only fill the empty pit in my stomach, not the one in my chest.
Mom inspects my shoulder-length hair. “？Y qué pasó con tu pelo?”
“I cut it.”
“But why?” she moans.
I can only muster up a long, exaggerated sigh.
“I love it, especially because of why you did it.” Josefina winks.
A haircut was what the doctor ordered after my heartbreak, along with a bottle of Zoloft to keep the sadness at bay.
Mom grips my shoulders as she scans me from head to toe. “I’m happy you’re home. The rest we can deal with later.”
“Me too.” My voice cracks. There was nothing I wanted more than my mom’s hugs and her unwavering belief that Vicks VapoRub will cure everything, including a broken heart.
Josefina places her hands on my shoulders and squeezes. “Don’t you worry. We’ll make it all better, starting with some of my pozole.”
Where my mom is a worrier, Josefina is a fixer like her son.
If only Julian had inherited her empathy too.
The sheriff interrupts our reunion by clearing his throat.
Panza llena, corazón contento: Full stomach, happy heart.
?Y qué pasó con tu pelo?: And what happened to your hair?
“Dahlia.”
“Yes?”
“Julian wants to keep this off the record and pay for both repairs himself.”
“So he’s not going to get a ticket or mandatory community service for hitting me?”
The sheriff chuckles. “Do you want him to?”
“Only if you can promise he gets the kind that requires him to pick up trash on the side of the road for hours.” I snap my fingers. “Scratch that. Days.”
“Mija,” Mom warns as Josefina laughs.
“How else is he supposed to learn his lesson? Someone could have gotten badly hurt.”
The sheriff spares me a knowing look. “To be fair, you should have pulled over if you were having car trouble rather than continuing to drive like you did.”
My brows scrunch together. “Car trouble?”
“Julian explained everything already. If you ever struggle with the engine again, pull over and call for help.”
Why would Julian Lopez make up a cover story instead of telling the sheriff I was too busy crying to properly drive?
Perhaps because he plans on blackmailing you later.
My mom gives my hand a knowing squeeze, and the tension in my muscles bleeds away. “I’ll do that.”
The sheriff tips his hat. “Now that it’s all settled, I’d better get everyone back to the school auditorium for the talent show. Some of these folks should be in bed before their meds kick in at ten p.m.” He whistles and points to the trolley. “Let’s clear out!”
Mija: My daughter.
“We’ll hitch a ride with our kids instead.” Josefina waves the sheriff away.
The deputies wrangle the protesting crowd into the trolley while the first responders head to town, leaving the Mu?oz and Lopez families alone.
“What talent show is he talking about?” I ask.
“The one the elementary school puts on each fall.” Josefina passes the bottle of holy water back to my mom. “About that, it would be so nice if you joined us! Nico would love to see you, and then we can all go out to dinner afterward.”
My throat dries up. As much as I want to see my godson and give him the biggest hug, dinner with those who know me best sounds like another panic-inducing situation I’d rather avoid tonight.
“I’m sure Dahlia is tired,” Julian says in that bored tone of his.
Either I look as shitty as I feel, or Julian is making it known that he doesn’t want me there.
I’ll go with the latter.
I consider attending the talent show to prove him wrong, but then I think about what that would entail.
Are you ready to see everyone in town?
Nope. Definitely not. It was a small blessing to be spared from the welcome party this evening, so I better not push my luck.
After two years away, I will have to face everyone eventually, but today is not that day.
“Julian is right.” The words slide across my tongue like daggers, and the bastard has the audacity to stand taller at the admission. “I’m pretty shaken up with everything that happened, and after spending the whole day driving, all I want to do is get some rest.”
“Oh.” Josefina’s smile dies, earning me another scowl from her son.
“What if Julian takes you home on his way to the show and Josefina and I can drive your car to the auditorium?” Mom suggests.
My right eye twitches. If this woman hadn’t spent my whole life raising me, I would never speak to her again. She knows Julian is my sworn enemy, right up there with midnight snacking on pan dulce and driving in California rush-hour traffic.
“But…” My protest dies when my mom shoots me a look. “All right.”
Julian’s eyes narrow as he pulls out his keys. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be late for Nico’s performance.”
Josefina’s fingers fly across her cell phone screen. “No worries. I’m texting the principal now and asking them to switch Nico’s spot.”