"Let's take a breather." Justin clapped his hands, and all of us sighed in relief. "Ten-minute break. Chop, chop. Let's go."

Finally.

        Brice, Oliver and I trudged to our usual spot in the corner of the studio. "Yo, Justin's tryna kill us," Oliver said once we reached our spot, and the three of us were quick to take huge gulps from our water bottles. "That bald-headed guy has it in for us," he added after coming up for air.

        "Once again," I said, "it's a buzz-cut."

        "Still no hair," Oliver said.

        I rolled my eyes while Brice chuckled. "You guys are idiots."

        "I'm gonna get more water." Oliver was already backtracking to the exit. "Who knows when Justin will give us another break?"

True.

        I usually loved the hard work and fast pace of practice, but today, Justin was going extra hard. I was grateful that my muscles were getting a reprieve, and I had to talk to Brice, anyway.

        "Abrams," I started with a tap to his arm, "can I ask you something?"

        "Shoot, Velasco," he said. "What is it?"

        I hesitated because deep down, I knew I had no right to ask, but it was Brice. I had to know where his head was at.

        "What are your intentions with Estella?" I asked.

        She had been sitting with us ever since that debacle with her friends. Although, it didn't feel like she sat with us since all of her focus was on Brice. He was always rubbing her back and nudging her and flirting with her and saying all the things she wanted to hear.

        I bet she liked hearing them, but were they authentic?

        That was what I was here to find out.

        Brice watched me carefully. "Why do you care, Velasco?" He smirked. "Do you like her?"

        The muscles in my face stiffened. "I have a girlfriend."

        "A girlfriend you hardly talk about," Brice said. "I forgot you had a girlfriend until you just mentioned it."

        "This isn't about Ximena. It's about Estella."

        Estella really liked Brice, which was disappointing because I didn't trust Brice to be the guy she needed.

        "So, what is it?" I asked. "Where's your head at with her?"

        Brice placed the tip of his water bottle into his mouth as he thought about it. I didn't like that. If he was really into her, he shouldn't have to think about it.

        "We're having fun," he answered. "We're going with the flow, and we're seeing where that takes us."

        I frowned. "Don't waste her time."

        Brice furrowed his brows. "What're you talking about?"

        "You always have 'fun' with girls, Abrams," I said, "but Estella needs more than that. If you think you can just hit it and quit it with her, you're sadly mistaken."

        "What the fuck, Velasco?" He stared at me, astonished. "I'm not looking to get married in high school."

        "No one's asking you to," I said. "I'm letting you know that if you can't see yourself in a serious, committed relationship with Estella, you might as well end it now and stop wasting both of your time."

        Brice quirked a brow. "What are you? Her big brother?"

        That got my mind wondering. "How many siblings does she have?" I asked him.

        Confusion edged his face. "Why does that matter?"

        "Just answer the question."

        He scratched his head. "One?"

Thought so. "She doesn't have any, and it's just her and her dad," I said, and he sent me a blank look. "And that's my point exactly. With all the texting and talking you guys do, I'll think you'll know something as simple as that."

        "It's not that serious."

        "Maybe to you it isn't but to her it is," I said, and he narrowed his eyes. "Estella really likes you, and she's my friend." I rubbed the back of my neck at the fact that I said that out loud to Brice. "I just want you to respect her enough to actually get to know her. Don't keep things so superficial with her, just like you do with every other girl, because if you do, you'll miss out on knowing a great girl."

        "Wow." Brice crossed his arms with a smirk. "Maybe you do like her."

        "Shut up," I said with a roll of my eyes.

        "We do have similar taste in women, Velasco," Brice teased while placing an arm around my shoulders. "Hopefully, Estella ends up being better than Sabrina."

        That wasn't funny.

        "I don't like Estella," I grumbled while getting out of his hold. "Just give her a chance and dig deeper with her."

        "Okay." Brice nodded his head slowly. "I'll keep that in mind." He grinned. "Estella is really cute. She has a nice face, a nice body, and her personality is...different."

        She was weird, and she could be intriguing. But mostly weird.

        "She can be innocent," he kept going, "but at the same time, she isn't. It's kind of hot."

        Okay. I didn't want to listen to this.

        "You're right," Brice said. "I should dig deeper with Estella." He patted my back in appreciation. "Thanks, man."

        I forced a smile. "Of course."

        "What's up, bros?" Oliver returned, stopping beside us. "Sorry I took so long. I took a little trip to the vending machine."

        I instantly thought about Estella. That girl and her apple juice. I smiled.

        "What's that thing Estella always likes getting?" Brice asked me. "Orange juice?"

        My smiled vanished, but before I could speak up, Justin clapped his hands.

        "Okay, break's over!" A lot of the guys groaned, but I was grateful for the timing. "Let's get back to work."

        "Why do we like torturing ourselves?" Oliver asked as we walked towards the center of the studio.

        We got into position and waited for Justin to start the music. This wasn't torture. For some of us, it was a fucking privilege.

        Later, Brice and Oliver were heading to the library to meet up with Tyler, but I was heading for the vending machine. She was there, as always.

        I stopped behind her. "Hey."

        She didn't flinch, and she turned around with her apple juice in hand and a smile on her face. "Jax! Guess what?" Before I could say anything, she kept going. "I've been studying really hard for my permit test, and I think I'll be able to get my permit by this winter break."

        "Good job." I glanced down at her flute case in one hand, her water jug placed between her arm and side and her apple juice in the other hand. "Here, let me help you."

        She smiled. "Aww, Jax."

        "Stop," I whined while taking her case and water jug from her. "You make everything I do such a big deal."

        "Because you're so sweet." She grinned up at me.

        Estella was always complimenting me. She was always giving me credit and acknowledgment. It was odd, but it felt good in a strange way.

        "That's a new description of me." Not a lot of people called me "sweet."

        "Maybe you're just sweet to me." She giggled with her bottle of apple juice close to her face.

        "Well, I'm only holding your stuff until I have to leave." I didn't want to leave because my father was off today, and he was in a sour mood this morning.

        "Can you give me a ride home?"

        I examined her. "Why?"

        She hid her face. "Things are really awkward between me and Mimi. Her brother always gives us a ride home after band practice, and after our little fight, he still drops me off, but it's really uncomfortable."

        "Why don't you guys talk this through?"

        "It's not that easy," she said. "The source of our problem is Sabrina, and she's still around. Even if me and Mi Yun make up, something else could happen, so I don't want to depend on her for a ride anymore."

        "What are you getting at?" I had an inkling, but I wanted her to say it.

        She sent me a sheepish smile. "Can you give me a ride home after band practice from now on?" My eyes widened. "I'll give you gas money. Please? Don't make me endure the awkwardness of this situation between me and Mi Yun."

        "Talk to her."

        If something like this happened to me and Brice, we would have made up the next day. Why did girls like to drag out conflict?

        "Estella..."

        "Please?" She placed her apple juice between her arm and side and clasped her hands together. "I'm begging you. Please, Jax."

        I groaned. Driving in Verda was my "alone time." I was by myself with my music and fresh air and space and this faux sense of freedom. I didn't want to lose that, but looking at Estella, I couldn't say "no" either.

        "Okay," I said, and she squealed, "but make up with Mi Yun. Sooner is definitely better than later."

        "I'll try," she said. "Thank you!"

        "Come on." I was already heading for the door with her following behind me.

        A couple minutes later, the two of us were driving in Verda with the windows down. The both of us had an arm dangling from the window, and Estella wasn't screaming this time.

        "It actually feels kind of good," she told me, referring to the wind on her arm. "You learn something new every day."

        "You sure do," I said while glancing down at the stereo. Estella was playing her "international playlist," and currently, there was an upbeat song playing and the singer had an interesting accent. "What's this?"

Whatever it was, I wasn't complaining about her taste in music. If it wasn't for her, I never would have discovered how much I loved Within Temptation. They were now one of my favorite bands.

        "It's a Nigerian group called P-Square," she answered. "I love their music, and African music as a whole makes me feel really good. I feel a little more in touch with my African side." We chuckled. "I know some African American people don't approve of that label because they've never been to Africa, and they don't know much about the different cultures of Africa, but I embrace it. I don't have to go to Africa or claim a culture to be African American. It's a part of my roots, and I embrace that."

         "I really admire your love for other cultures," I said.

        I wanted to tell Estella so many things. I wanted to tell her that I loved the way she spoke about culture. I loved when she showed me the open-minded part of herself. I loved how she struggled with being dubbed "innocent" and "immature," but when she spoke like this, she sounded so wise.

        I wanted to tell her that, but the words never came out.

        "Thank you," she said. "I'm thinking about studying anthropology in college, and you can guess which subset I'm more interested in."

        "Cultural anthropology?"

        "You got it," she said while leaning back in the passenger seat. "Your family's from Spain, right?" My grip tightened on the wheel. "When did you guys move here?"

        "I was born here," I said. I stayed silent, but Estella motioned with her hands for me to continue. "My parents came here not long after they got married."

        "Cool," she said. "And you speak Spanish?" I nodded. "You should teach me, so we can speak Spanish together."

        I admired her enthusiasm. "The Spanish we speak in Spain isn't the same as the Spanish people speak in a lot of Latin American countries. There are some differences in pronunciations, vocabulary etc."

        "I know," she said, "but I want to speak Spanish with you." I fought back a smile. "Do you speak Catalan?"

        I was impressed she even knew about Catalan. "No," I said. "My family isn't from Barcelona or any other part of Catalonia."

        "It's okay," she said with a reassuring smile. "Spanish is great in and of itself."

        "Actually," I started as I made a left turn, "Catalan could be labeled as a type of Spanish in certain regions." A look of amazement took over her face. "There are a lot of regional languages in Spain with different dialects, and the Spanish you're thinking about is Castilian Spanish."

        "Wow. So many types of Spanish." Estella turned her body to face me. "You have to teach me. And teach me to cook, too."

        "What?" I almost missed my turn.

        "Teach me how to cook some Spanish food," she said. "That's killing two birds with one stone. I get to face some of my fears and learn more about your culture at the same time."

        All the joy the conversation brought in me dissipated slowly. Cooking Spanish food with Estella would require me to take her to my house.

        That wasn't happening.

        My jaw tightened as I stared ahead. "That's not a good idea, Estella."

        From my peripheral vision, I could see her watching me. "Why not? Did I say something? Do you not want me in your kitchen?"

        "It's just not a good idea." I continued staring forward, even as she kept her eyes on me.

        "And the wall goes up again." Estella adjusted herself in the seat, so she could look forward, too. "You really confuse me, Jax. One second, I think you're letting me in and the next, this happens and I'm reminded that I know nothing about you."

        She didn't have to know things about me. The Jax she saw now, she liked him. She appreciated him and supported him. She thought he was worthy of her time.

        The Jax she saw now was enough.

        Estella scoffed. "You remind me of Brice."

        I almost got whiplash from her comment. "What?"

        "The two of you," she said, "keep everything on the surface. You try to deceive me and make it seem as if I know more about you than I actually do. Whenever I'm talking to the two of you, I always feel like I'm oversharing. Maybe it's because the both of you don't share enough." I adjusted myself in my seat, not liking the shift in conversation. "But hey, at least you actually listen to what I say, unlike Brice."

        That was the thing about Estella. She always complained about not knowing enough about me.

        I sighed in exasperation. "What do you want me to say, Estella?"

        "Tell me something I don't know," she said. "Tell me something about yourself you've never told me. It could be anything."

Okay. I could do that.

        "I have a girlfriend," I said. "Her name is Ximena Arantes, and she's a freshman at Bailey Scott University. We started dating my sophomore year of high school, and we've been together since. Happy?"

        She shook her head. "Not happy."

        "Sad that I'm taken?" I teased, and she tried keeping a straight face but the curve of her lips gave her away.

        "I didn't even know you had a girlfriend," she said.

        I shrugged. "A lot of people don't."

        I had no desire to disclose my business around to just anyone who wanted to listen.

         "You being taken isn't why I'm unhappy though," Estella said. "I'm glad you shared that, and I know a little more about you, but the information you just gave me wasn't really about you. It was more focused on Ximena."

        My mouth opened, but I said nothing.

        "I learned more about Ximena," she went on, "than I did about you based off of what you just told me. I can imply she's a female and Hispanic. She's in college and you guys started dating in high school so she's probably in her late teens. She's dating a younger man, so she probably likes to have fun and is a little more open-minded and carefree."

        That was a spot-on description of Ximena.

         "You, on the other hand," Estella said, "all I learned about you from what you just told me is that you have a girlfriend named Ximena, and you guys started dating when you were a sophomore in high school. That's it."

        That wasn't fair. If she put it like that...

        "Jax," she started while I parked in her driveway, "I know I'm probably annoying you with my pestering, but whenever you 'share,' it's never centered around you. You either share information about people in your life, like Ximena, or you share information about aspects of your identity or community, like Spain and Spanish. They connect to you, but they aren't you. I want to know more about you, and all I ask is that you let me in."

        I killed the engine, and we shifted in our seats to face each other. "You know enough. You know more than most people," I told her.

       Estella leaned back slightly. "If I know more than most people than that's a problem because I barely know anything."

        I was done with this conversation.

        I brought Verda back to life. "We're here, Estella." I stared out the windshield. "You can grab your stuff."

        "Jax..." She reached for my arm, but I moved it out of the way before she could touch me.

        "I'll see you tomorrow." I refused to look at her, knowing if I did, I could potentially lose my resolve.

        I had to get out of here.

        "Fine," she said as she began to grab her flute case, backpack and water jug. "See you tomorrow." After grabbing her phone, she exited the car and slammed the door behind her.

        I didn't know why I didn't drive off immediately or why she froze once she was outside the car, but I didn't feel all that great anymore.

        Estella knocked on the window, and I rolled it down. She leaned down with her eyes on me. "I told you that there's nothing to be afraid of with me." Hurt crossed over her features, and my resolved crumbled slightly. "I just don't know how to make you believe it," she said, and all I could do was look at her.

        I wasn't like her. I wasn't innocent. I didn't have this light surrounding me. I couldn't view the world through optimism and encouragement. Her lenses were pure.

        "I'll talk to you later, Estella." I sent her a small smile, and she backed away from Verda as I reversed out.

        When I turned around and drove off, I only looked forward with my arm out the window. She ruined such an amazing moment. I wasn't trying to be an ass. It was just who I was. Ximena understood that. Sabrina understood it, too, when we dated.

        Estella and I weren't even dating. She was with Brice, and I was with Ximena.

        I groaned and hit my palm against the side of the steering wheel.

        Estella Gillon drove me crazy sometimes.