Page 33 of Capicú Summer

I look away when I notice him move towards me. And just when I finally get my body to take a step, it leads me right in front of him. Yael's broad shoulders cast a shadow over me, our size difference highlighted under the light, and I squirm.

“For Don Rogelio,” he says, handing me the money.

The noise around us fades. I stare at the money, blink, and then look up at him. “You didn’t have to⁠—”

He silences me with three words. “I wanted to.”

With that, he offers me his hand. I gulp down the lump forming in my throat. My emotions choking me up.

“Come on. You look like you could use some air.”

Using my free hand, I take his, not bothered with the looks given our way. Hand in hand, we slip away from everyone, crossing the street and climbing up the narrow steps that lead to our place. The city stretches below, lights flickering like restless stars. The music drifts up, faint now, and still, my body sways. I feel something cold touch my heated flesh. Yael hands me a small bottle of dark liquor. Even though I shouldn’t, I take it.

Three shots in.

And the alcohol begins to peel at my defenses, making me giddy and hot inside. The silence between us hums. I don’t know if I want to talk or find a better use of his mouth. His fingers brush against my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I take another shot at that.

Shot number four goes down with a burn. I grimace, the taste clinging to my throat. Bitter and hot.

“Slow down.” He laughs.

I nibble on my lips, fighting the urge to act on every impulse that wants to kiss him. To feel him. Guilt and desire merge into something painful and too heavy to hold. I shouldn’t want him… after all, he’s the reason why my brother is dead. I should hate him. And all I can think about is how much I want to fuck him. Pressure builds behind my eyes, my vision blurring from the intensity.

Yael moves closer, the heat of his body contrasting the cool night air. I don’t move. He leans in, his hand trailing down my arm until stopping over the glass bottle.

“Why?” I breathe out. Repeating the same question he asked me a couple of nights ago. “Why?”

By the look on his face, I can tell he’s confused. The issue is that I don’t allow him to talk, years of pent up resentment surfaces before I have a chance to reel it in. “Adri.” The way he whispers my name makes the first tear fall.

“It’s your fault,” I tell him, my hands closing into a fist. “You. Why are you like this now? Why couldn’t you be like this back then. If you were…”

He shakes his head, already piecing what I’m trying to say. “No, Adri, that’s not on me.” He steps forward, and I step back. “What happened to Neno was out of my control.”

My fist connects with his chest. I want to hurt him… To make him feel what I’ve been carrying deep in my heart through the years. Yael doesn’t flinch, he just stands there, breathing hard, eyes locked on mine.

“I feel it too.” His voice cracks, low and rough. “I lost everything. You think I don’t carry it too? I should have been there… you’re right—but I was where I wanted to be—with you.”

I shake my head, tears falling as I realize I’m what kept Yael away that night. His tone drops. “I just didn’t think you would be the one to abandon me. Tu te fuiste, no yo⁠*..”

The sound of his voice breaks something inside me. I want to hate him, but the truth burns hotter than anger.

“You left me,” he repeats. “I went through hell, only to come back out and see you clinging to my cousin like you won a great prize. Imagine how I feel.”

My lip quivers, a small sniffle escaping me. Yael’s hand moves, slow and deliberate until his fingers find mine. He tilts his head, eyes searching my face, and I wonder if he can see it? The love I still have for him, hidden behind layers of grief and shame. The air hums between us, his words hang there, cutting through the buzz of the alcohol.

“While you've been playing house with Lenny, I’ve been mourning. You lost your brother and I lost my heart.” Yael’s voice trembles, even though his gaze doesn’t waver. He steps closer until the space between us disappears. His hand moves to my jaw, thumb brushing away a tear. “You think I didn’t suffer?” he whispers. “You think I didn’t die a little every time I would think about him touching you.”

I freeze, breath caught somewhere in my thorax, and still, he continues.

“Every time, the same question plagued my mind.” His voice is rough, his grip even more. “Dime mami⁠*, could he make you feel what I did? Did you ever scream his name the way you would mine?”

My heart stutters. Unsure whether to stop or run rampant when his finger trails down the length of my neck. He presses closer, his forehead resting against mine. “Tell me,” he breathes. “Did he know where to touch you? Where to lick you?”

I can’t speak.

I’m a shaking mess, trying hard not to show it. Yael’s lips hover just above mine, a silent question. A demand. And then the world tilts on its axis. I’m not sure who moves in first, but before I know it, his hands are under my dress, my legs are wrapped around his waist, and my back presses against the brick wall.

He devours my mouth, his tongue demanding for my body to yield. I groan into him, my hips moving, seeking that delicious friction. How long has it been since I've felt this hunger? This passion is burning me alive. His firm erection presses into me, just like I remember. Thick and long. Just what I need.