Page 16 of Axes and Ohs

I check my phone again. Still nothing from Carlos.

It’s strange how quickly he’s become this central part of my life when just a few months ago, I didn’t know he existed. Now, going more than a few hours without hearing from him feels wrong. His messages are like little bursts of sunshine that warm up even the coldest winter day. I love seeing the pictures of his worksites, the stories about his mom, the terrible jokes that make me laugh out loud on the subway.

I find myself wondering what he’s doing right now. Maybe just getting home from work, making his mom dinner—or watching her carefully while she makes dinner, since she’s determined to get up and do stuff for herself and keeps insisting she’s ready to move back to her own place.

I picture him in his flannel, his jeans, his work boots, his hair mussed from a day in the woods… and I feel the slow roll of want in my stomach that’s become almost familiar.

God, I’ve got it bad.

I’m so lost in thoughts of Carlos that when I see a figure sitting on the front stoop of my building, I almost think it’s a mirage. Almost.

But then I get closer and see that broad-shouldered silhouette, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his dark hair catching the streetlight, and I think there’s no way my imagination could’ve conjured this man in New York, sitting outside my building like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Carlos?” I demand.

He looks up and gives me the same boyish grin that made my heart race back in October. “Hey.”

“Oh!” I’m moving toward him, buoyant with joy and giddy with want, before I can think twice. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. Surprise?” He stands and… god, he looks good. Better than good. His hair’s a little longer than it was back in October, and I’ve seen it in selfies, but it’s so much sexier in person. Everything about him is sexier in person.

I stop when I’m a foot away because I realize I was about to kiss him right there on the street, and I’m not sure how he’d feel about that.

“Is this okay?” he asks uncertainly when he sees I’ve stopped. “I guess I should’ve called first, but I just⁠—”

“Of course it’s okay,” I say quickly. “I always want to see you!”

When the words are already out, I wish I could suck them back. I’m being too obvious. Too much.

But the smile he gives me is soft and warm, like I’ve said the exact right thing.

“Good, ’cause I’m here for the whole weekend. Well, until Sunday afternoon, really. I have to be back for work Monday morning.” He reaches out and brushes a piece of lint off my jacket, and just that casual touch lights a fire in me.

“Oh.” A smile breaks out on my face that I have no hope of containing. “But what about your mom? What about work?”

“Beckett gave me the day off, and Mamá… The woman wore me down.” He chuckles. “She’s moving home, and Crystal’s staying with her for the weekend, just to make sure she’s okay. Mamá agreed, but only because Crystal’s trying to plan Esme’s quinceañera, and Mamá wants to be involved.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh. Not sure how much you know about quinceañeras, but fifteenth birthdays are kind of a big deal for us. Think… wedding-level big deal. They’re talking about renting a flower-covered princess carriage to take pictures with.” He rolls his eyes.

“Really? That sounds amazing!”

His eyes light up. “I’ll tell you about it later, then. If you want.”

“Of course I do.” I link my arm through his and tug. “Now, come in before Mrs. Quan in 4B sees me with a hot guy and starts asking questions.”

“A hot guy, huh?” Carlos laughs as we climb the stairs. “How many hot guys has she seen you with?”

I’m not really listening to his teasing because we’ve arrived at the third floor, where my tiny apartment is. I stand there with my key in my hand, suddenly self-conscious about the place in a way I totally wasn’t when I was telling Jason about it.

Carlos has seen it in the background on video calls, I guess, and he’s heard me complain about being cramped, but you don’t really get an idea of just how tiny it is until you’re inside.

This is a guy who owns his own home. Who knows how to repair shit that’s broken and doesn’t have a giant strip of duct tape holding his fridge shelf up. Who wouldn’t have given up in frustration the third time his landlord insisted the heat was working fine, despite the apartment being colder than the air outside.

I bite my lip nervously. “Carlos, I should probably tell you⁠—”

His eyes widen, but then he nods like a bobblehead. “Right. Shit. That’s okay! I mean, of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be? I didn’t actually expect… I mean, I hoped… But fuck, it’s not like we talked about it or anything.”

I frown. “Well, we did talk about it. I know I’ve mentioned it. It’s just different now that you’re here, you know?”

Carlos huffs out a laugh and rubs at his neck some more. “Trust me, we definitely didn’t talk about it. But it’s cool. I mean, you live here, and I live in Winsome, so⁠—”