Page 216 of Embriagado

“Looking at how pretty you are.”

He smacked my chest. “You’re so hopeless.”

Rubbing the spot he’d hit, I grinned like a fool, taking in every detail of his appearance. From his eyes to his lips and his hair that stuck out in all directions⁠—

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“What question?”

I pushed a lock of stray hair away from his face. “What’s your natural color?”

“I’m blond.”

“No way,” I snorted. “You’re telling me I’m dating a fuckin’ blond?”

He hit me. Again.

“Hold your horses, boy⁠—”

I laughed, ready to say something else, when he suddenly did the unbelievable and cuddled at my side, using my arm as his pillow like it was the most natural thing for him to do.

“I owe you an apology, Santiago,” he said softly, keeping his hand on my heart. “About a lot of things, but mostly, for misjudging you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you were no different from the rest, but it turns out you are.”

Confused, I covered his hand with mine, pressing it to my chest. “Okay?”

He snuggled closer. “You’re my exception, Santiago.”

I still had no clue what he meant, but from the look on his face, Ari was more interested in going to sleep than explaining himself. Besides, it sounded like he meant good, and having him nestled in my arms was more than enough for now. Kissing the top of his head, I closed my eyes and fell asleep with my heart so fucking full, I feared it would burst.

* * *

Unfortunately, morning came sooner than ever before. But when I opened my eyes and found Ari was still in my bed, cuddled by my side like the baby fox that he was, I couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. Squeezing him in a tight hug, I kissed his head, but all he did was grunt in response.

He smelled like sleep, and so I sniffed him, taking my morning dose, when he shoved me away. Clearly, he was in no mood for morning sex, and getting the message, I let him go and got up to cook him breakfast. After last night, he had to get some calories into his system and regain his strength, especially if I planned on burning said calories later.

I glanced at him one last time before leaving my room and closing the door behind me. After taking a quick shower and brushing my teeth, I went over to check on Nacio. His room stood empty, and his bed looked like no one had slept in it. Assuming he’d crashed at one of his friends’, I went to the kitchen. While at it, I shot my brother a text, asking where he was. Surprisingly, the kid answered immediately, letting me know he’d be home in a few hours. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d stayed up all night. And while not a fan of the idea, if that was what it took for him to get over Tess, so be it.

I considered running to a small shop that sold the best bolas de fraile in Miami. No joke, their dulce de leche was to die for. But knowing Ari didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, I gave up on the idea and went over to see what we had in the fridge. Thankfully, I’d gone grocery shopping earlier this week and still had some good ingredients left. I was actually a decent cook, if not a great one, and confident in my abilities, I took out some eggs, ham, cheese, and veggies and got to work.

About forty-five minutes later, my frittata was baking in the oven, while I was working on a fresh avocado salad to go on the side. I was in the middle of chopping a red onion when I paused. Did Ari even like onions? And what about peppers? I hoped he did since I’d put a bunch of them in the frittata. It was strange how, on one hand, I felt like I knew him, but on the other, I realized I didn’t know him at all.

It was the simple things, shit like whether he enjoyed peppers in his food or if he preferred his eggs scrambled over fried. You know, the small details you catch up on while in a relationship. But I guess I was getting ahead of myself, considering that until not too long ago, the man hated my guts. Not to mention that so far, we basically did our best just to survive, so it wasn’t surprising that I had no clue how he liked his eggs in the morning.

“Something smells good,” Ari hummed, and I turned from the cutting board to see him standing at the entrance to the kitchen, wearing my freakin’ sweats while passing on the shirt.

“Cookin’ you some breakfast.” I smiled and did my best not to pounce on him. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving, actually.” He moved to stand beside me and leaned back against the counter.

“How did you sleep?” I asked, trying not to stare at his V line too hard.

“Amazing, if you’d believe it.”

“Yeah?”