Valentina Karas

Something was definitely wrong with my Mexican food from earlier. It was clearly laced with drugs, tampered with in the kitchen, I don't know. I feel like I'm in a body that isn't mine experiencing things I never knew I could. As the beautiful boy in the hot tub and I keep relaxing, his words marinate in my mind.

I missed you, V. Four words, eleven letters. Sometimes little things leave the biggest marks in you. I knew this to some degree, from the thrilled look on the birthday girl's face because of a thoughtful gift to the side eyes and whispers that were quiet enough, but are responsible for the loudest thoughts I have. Most recently, I'll never erase the solemn looks on my parents' faces after a lovely talk with the doctors, no words uttered but still getting the message across that life's about to be different. Leukemia, as awful as it is, is its own teacher of lessons I never asked for.

Asher looks like a Greek god. Am I weird for the extra saliva that coated my mouth seeing him shirtless? God knew what He was doing when He sculpted every inch by hand, letting us mortals know who the favorite is. I have to remind myself that he's a grade younger than me and thinking about a child in that way is a smidge problematic. The age gap sure as hell doesn't change the way his abs are chiseled by Michelangelo himself. 

With us in the midst of a silent staring contest, this hangout takes me back to the awkward days of middle school. Unfortunately my inability to speak to a boy or find something to start a conversation about never left me the way it left my peers sophomore or junior year. If anything, it's gotten worse over time.

"So, how have you been?" Asher moves from his relaxed position for the first time in minutes, curiosity in his beautiful brown eyes. 

I hesitate, not sure how much I want to share. "It's...complicated," I admit. "We're all just trying to get used to everything."

He hums in understanding. "That's understandable. I hope y'all still like St. G's?"

"It's the only good part of this situation. The doctors are basically family and it's only been a couple of weeks." As I explain this to him, I recall meeting his mom yesterday at the hospital. "I didn't realize your mom works there."

"Yes ma'am." Those words again. They transport me right back to that day at the hospital that feels like a lifetime ago. I liked him right off the bat, but taking time out of your schedule for a near stranger's brother? That got my attention and earned my trust. His politeness is unfortunately unheard of among my male peers.

He's a breath of fresh air in a world where most guys my age are either too self-absorbed or immature to give a damn about others. It's not just his manners—it's the way he genuinely listens, how he seems to care about more than just surface-level stuff. It's hard for me to determine if his sincere kindness is a product of his mom, but I know Dr. Mendez raised him well.

"She's good at what she does." I nod, agreeing with his assessment of his mom. She can't fly or make herself invisible, but it's possible that her attentiveness towards patients like Ronan is a superpower of its own.

We start talking about something else and soon enough, the weight of the past few weeks falls off my shoulders. The warm water that rivals the cozy sheets on my bed back at home helps ease the tension my body has accumulated. Everything that's been stressing me out back home is now miles away, but there's something else lingering in my mind.

It's all my friends have been talking about. As dearly as I love them, it's tempting to politely tell them to shut up and stop rubbing in their loaded dates to Mountain View's homecoming. On the other hand, I haven't heard Asher mention it at all. 

I glance at him, hoping he might raise the issue. But he's sitting there, relaxed, leaning back against the edge of the hot tub, completely unaware of the tiny storm of thoughts brewing in my head. Meanwhile, my insides are in knots because the what-ifs are all I can focus on. If he has a date already, I wouldn't be surprised: he's objectively hot and any girl would be lucky to go with him. 

What if he's just leading me on? That would suck, but it's definitely in the realm of possibility. Anyone can pretend to care so they can check a box and brag about being a good person all of the time. It's not fair to Asher to assume he's like some of his out of touch peers that I encountered at the party.

It sucks, but that doesn't mean it matters in the grand scheme of things. There are more productive things to worry about than private school homecoming. My sick brother, for example. When someone you love is going through it, it's impossible not to feel a pang of guilt when you get to enjoy life while they don't have that luxury.

Way to be a good sister, V.

I shake the thoughts from my head, trying to focus on something, anything, other than the whirlpool of doubts and questions spinning in my mind. Asher's voice breaks the silence first, thankfully.

His curious brown eyes examine me, but there's a hint of genuine concern. "Penny for your thoughts?" We just met and he knows when my head's running a mile a minute. 

I pause, thinking of something to tell him. A million thoughts swirl in my mind, shooting at each other so only one can be at the forefront. What is on my mind? Homecoming? Ronan's health? The feeling of guilt every time I put my happiness above supporting my brother? No. Those aren't not topics for a light afternoon conversation. Instead, I offer a small smile. "Just trying to forget it all, you know?"

Asher looks satisfied with my response, but traces of suspicion linger in his eyes. He stares at the trees with that same scrutiny as if they're feeding him obvious bullshit. The world feels quieter than normal which I equally appreciate and dread, knowing the quiet will only last for so long.

"I'm glad we got to hang out," he says after a few beats of silence. "We should definitely do this again." Those words casually left his mouth barely above a whisper, but there's nothing relaxed about my heart rate picking up like I completed a half marathon. 

Praying my nerves don't betray me, I give him a curt nod. "Uh...yeah, it's pretty nice."

He turns his head and his soft, sweet tea colored eyes of his stare at me like an art connoisseur admires a work in a museum. I feel like the only girl in the world in a bubble protected from the bombshells at his school. He sees past the exhausted and average looking Valentina who is thirty to forty pounds overweight in favor of truly understanding who she is. 

As validating as that attention he no doubt accumulates at school, it must be a double edged sword. Being Asher Mendez, the tall, baseball prodigy with the perfect smile, comes with perks. Girls throw themselves at him, guys look up to him, and he probably gets A's he didn't earn himself. So yeah, it's probably great on some level. I wonder if he's ever felt the pressure of being seen as the guy who has it all, but having to keep up the image no matter the cost.

"Did Katelyn tell you about what happened last night?", he asks. I mentally thank him for shifting the conversation to something non cancer or homecoming. 

Knowing he's referring to the infancy of our best friends' relationship, I nod. "No way. I was just with her and all she'd talk about is Sawyer." 

"He was so stressed out about it for no damn reason," he complains. "I'm so glad it's over. His nerves were making Knox and I nervous." 

The picture of cocky Sawyer turned into a jittery mess, courtesy of my best friend, makes me chuckle. "That's definitely one way to look at it," I say. "I don't think she's ever been this excited about something."

Asher shakes his head with an amused smile. "I never thought I'd see the day Sawyer practices what he's gonna say to a girl, but I'm pretty excited for them."

"Clearly all of that stress wasn't for nothing. She's so happy. Do you know how many times she snapped me during her DR trip freaking out about him?" I'm not kidding when Katelyn frantically snapped me every day. Clearly the virgin strawberry daiquiris and dips in the pool did the opposite of calm her down.

Judging by his eye contact, Asher seems entertained by Katelyn's business. "They're perfect for each other. Sawyer always acts before he thinks and she's rational. She'll definitely keep him from getting murdered."

I laugh at his assessment, but can't deny he's right. Most friend groups have a responsible and protective mom friend, but I'd delegate that role to Layla whose sensibility extends to her and Knox's relationship. When I think of Katelyn, however, she's more of a cool sister who goes to cool places and winds up in "how'd we get here?" situations. She's spontaneous and has a "whatever happens, happens" mindset, but her fair share of life experience matures her and contributes to her sound decisions.

"Anyway, what they do is none of our business," he says. "Other than hanging out with hot guys, what have you been up to?"

"Someone's a little cocky," I say, not bothering to control the teasing undertone in my voice. If I looked like him, I'd feel like the sexiest mortal alive too. "Honestly, just trying not to lose my shit at my family." While intended as a way to make light of my situation, my simple comment creates a storm cloud over a good day.

Asher doesn't smile, but doesn't pry either. "Sorry I went there, V. I'm always here next time home's driving you insane, alright?"

I send him a grateful smile and the conversation shifts again, to my delight. We learn a little bit more about each other. Turns out our music tastes are pretty similar, although he insists on hiding it from his friends in favor of what smelly teenage boys like. 

The door from inside opens, revealing his stepmom. Only a couple of hours have passed since she introduced herself and I've forgotten all about her embarrassing us. She approaches us with two bottles of water in her hands.

Asher takes one and kisses her cheek. "Gracias, Carmen." 

"Como están?" She asks. 

He shrugs, twisting the lid off of the water. "Can't complain." 

"Bien." Carmen ruffles his curls and I realize they look nothing alike. They share smooth, honey toned skin, but that's where the similarities stop. 

Carmen looks like she just stepped out of the Blow Dry Bar with her voluminous light brown hair with ash blonde highlights, and if I had to guess, she's ninety pounds soaking wet. She could pass for his hot cousin rather than his stepmom. On the other hand, Asher's dark brown curls probably haven't seen the barber in weeks, never mind a nice salon. His muscular arms stand in stark contrast to Carmen's petite frame, like he could easily toss her halfway across the world if he wanted.

Why do all of the women in his life have to be models? From the Mountain View bombshells to his naturally beautiful mother who is his carbon copy, and now Carmen the diva? What made him choose me?

Carmen turns to me and despite her sincere smile, I'm freaking out. "Do you want one?"

I take the cold bottle from her. "Uh...sure. Thank you."

She pats my shoulder. "Yes ma'am. You're Valentina, si?"

I nod awkwardly, glancing at Asher, who's watching this whole scene play out with that same laid-back demeanor. "That's me."

"Asherito, tu novia es tan linda." Carmen happily claps her hands like a peppy cheerleader. I thought I was excelling in Señor Gutierrez's class,  but whatever she just said goes straight over my head.

While I don't have a clue what Carmen said, whatever it is has Asher flustered. In English, he replies, "Don't scare her away."

Carmen giggles, clearly taking pleasure in Asher's discomfort, and winks at me as if we're now part of some inside joke I'm not fully in on. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not scaring her," she says in moderately accented English, her smile warm but mischievous.

Asher puts his head in his hands. "She's not my girlfriend, Carmen."

Her laugh is bright and carefree as she waves him off, clearly not taking his objection seriously. She directs her laughing towards me. "I can tell I'm going to like you, Valentina."

I catch Asher's eyes, his face flushed with a mix of exasperation and embarrassment. His confidence is out the window, and it's equally adorable and amusing. "Alright, Carmen. We were in the middle of a great conversation we need to get back to." 

"Feisty," Carmen smirks. "I won't keep you lovebirds any longer. Just holler if you need anything." With that, she squeezes his cheek and disappears back into the mansion.

His stepmother's absence doesn't alleviate the traumatized look on his face. "Sorry, V. Carmen's great, but she likes to stress me out."

An ugly snort I didn't know I was suppressing comes out, catching both of us by surprise. Clearly not everyone sees him as an untouchable and insanely hot baseball player, as Carmen's teasing demonstrated. 

As entertaining as his stepmother is, her earlier comment isn't lost on me about our relationship. I remember learning novia equals a girlfriend in an earlier year.  No matter the language, I didn't expect my name and the g-word to be uttered in the same context. The title she threw out there makes me analyze everything that leaves his mouth like a piece of classical literature with an ambiguous meaning. 

Hanging out with Asher has been great, but it's also been a roller coaster. We've covered small talk and debated life's big questions within the same time frame. Regardless, he has this aura that makes him easy to talk to.

Hanging out with Asher Mendez? Even though I can't read how he feels about me, I'd rate this experience a ten out of ten. 

~

about damn time...yall don't need to know how many different directions this chapter almost took, but i digress.

thank you for reading! expect someone to grow some cojones to stop beating around the bush and tell the other everything next chapter...