Page 3 of Axes and Ohs

“Being ridiculously impulsive is hardly a flex,” I say defensively. “Not when it means I do stuff without thinking it through. I’ve always been this way. Drives my father crazy. Like, when I was twelve, I brought home a turtle I found in Central Park. Did I know anything about turtles? No. Did I know what it needed to live? Also no. I just… worried he’d die of exposure if I left him outside in October, so I put him in my pocket. That’s the kind of thing I mean.”

“Huh.” Carlos sips his beer, then turns back to me. “Do I wanna know what happened to the turtle?”

I pause because I’ve told this story before, many times, and it always gets me laughs, but I don’t think anyone’s ever asked a follow-up about my turtle.

“Frodo spent a lavish weekend in a Baccarat salad bowl I stole from my mom. Then I finally came clean to our housekeeper, and Maria helped me buy a proper terrarium and turtle food. He lived until I was in college.”

“Frodo.” Carlos’s lips tip up, and my body goes warm and liquid.

“Yeah. Small but brave,” I say, and it comes out a bit breathy because I made the mistake of falling into his eyes.

“Hm. Well, that’s a cute story and all… but I’m afraid I’m the rightful ruler of Impulsive Decisionland.” He shrugs, but his eyes hold mine, and they’re so freaking friendly I feel back-footed. “Sorry. You’ve been disposed.”

“Y-you mean deposed. And I highly doubt⁠—”

“When I was fourteen, I lied and told a girl I was an amateur bull rider.”

“You…” My mouth shuts, and my eyes go wide. “No way.”

“So much way. Picture it… Fourteen-year-old me, still breathtakingly handsome but a little younger—” Carlos winks broadly, which makes me laugh. It’s playful and a little flirty… and I have to remind myself that this guy’s not shown any overt interest and is, in fact, telling me a story about a girl he liked.

Chill the fuck out, Erick.

“—and I’m with my whole family—Mamá, my sister Crystal, her husband, my nieces, and me—all head to the Big E. That’s the Eastern States Exposition in Western Mass. Kind of a big county fair situation.”

“Okay?”

“And we’re checking out the livestock because my nieces love moo-cows, and what do you think I spot?”

“A… bull?” I guess.

He rolls his eyes. “No. A Marnie. Or was it Marley?” He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Point is, she was hot and brunette and… you know.” His hands move in the shape of enormous breasts.

I roll my eyes. “Gross.”

“Yeah, well, my fourteen-year-old self was hypnotized. Couldn’t even try to play it off or act cool. I went right up to her, and I was like…” He tilts his chin and purses his lips. “‘S’up, girl?’”

I laugh out loud again. “Oh, ew, noooo. If you’d given me that face, I’d have knocked you on your ass,” I lie.

“Well, she did. In a manner of speaking.” He looks a little ashamed and a little playful. “We’re chatting, and she says, ‘Bullriding is the coolest thing ever! I think bull riders are so hot!’ So, I…” He winces.

“You?” I prompt, nudging his arm. “You can’t leave me hanging.”

Carlos sighs. “I said, ‘Yeah. Totally. I mean…’” He sniffs off-handedly, in an impression of his fourteen-year-old self. “‘I do some bull riding. In my spare time.’”

“Oh, no.” I cover my eyes and shake my head, snort-laughing. I can see where this is going, and it’s not cute, but it is hilarious. When I peek through my fingers, I find Carlos watching me with a smile, like he’s really invested in my reaction. It feels… nice. Really nice.

“Color me shocked,” Carlos continues, “when we get to some, like, Dolly Parton section of the fair and there are a half-dozen mechanical bulls. And Marlene⁠—”

“Marnie,” I correct. “Or Marley.”

“Sure. She’s like, ‘Carl, can you show me how you ride?’ So, I mean, I had to brazen it out, right?”

I wipe my eyes, but I nod. “You truly had no choice. And I guess you survived, so it couldn’t have gone that bad?”

“It was amazing,” he confirms. “Best three-point-seven seconds of my life. Then I landed.” Carlos pulls up his sleeve to show me a pale pink scar running along his forearm, and his fingers brush mine accidentally. I feel that two-second touch in my soul. “Broken in two places. Missed a whole football season.”

“Ohhhhh.” I clench my fists against the need to trace that scar with my fingers. Straight boy probably wouldn’t enjoy that. “Did Marnie comfort you?”