Page 2 of Love Unwritten

His eyes have a rare glimmer to them. “Switching it up?”

“Nico suggested it.”

“My son is giving murder advice now?”

“Are you seriously surprised? His favorite comic book is about a villain.”

His mouth curls a fraction of a centimeter. The small, mundane gesture wipes away my bad mood about Ava and replaces my bitterness with enthusiasm.

“You smiled!”

“No.” His lips press into a thin line, but it’s too late.

“I know what I saw.” I bite back my grin as I walk over to the magnetic dry-erase board attached to the fridge and add a tally below the pinned photocopy of his high school superlative page.

I was only a freshman when he was a senior, but everyone knew who Rafael Lopez was. The Wisteria High student body was obsessed with him, including me, although I’d deny it until my dying breath. To be fair, it was impossible not to be, with his devastating good looks, otherworldly athleticism, and charming yet nerdy personality.

During the time Nico and I have kept count of Rafael’s smiles, I’ve yet to witness one like the bright-eyed grin from his high school years. The photo is evidence that even the brightest stars can fade away, becoming a fraction of what they once were.

It’s hard to believe the person who won Best Smile has only done so twelve—now thirteen—times in the last three months since I jokingly invented the tracker to cut some of the tension in the house.

Between Nico keeping his father at arms’ length and Rafael going out of his way to avoid uncomfortable situations with his son, they both could use a little humor in their lives.

God help them if you’re considered the comedic relief.

I’m the friend people go to when they need a stiff drink or a good cry, not the one they turn to for a nice laugh, but I’m doing my best here.

“One day I’m going to tear that photo into a hundred pieces,” Rafael says to my back.

“Do that, and I’ll replace it with one of your baby ones.” I cap the dry-erase marker and return it to its spot above the board.

His eyes narrow. “What are you talking about?”

“Turns out your aunt has a whole collection of photo albums dedicated to you.”

He blinks twice. “She showed you those?”

“Yup. Right before she brought out some old home videos.” My gaze flicks over him. “For someone so surly and antisocial, you sure wanted to be the center of attention when you were younger. But who could blame you with that karaoke machine of yours?”

His tan cheeks slowly turn pink. “It was Lily’s machine, not mine.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell with how much you hogged the mic.”

“She and Dahlia forced me.”

Blaming both of his family friends only makes me want to embarrass him more, even though I know he is telling the truth about the machine belonging to the Muñoz sisters.

“No one asked you to go that hard on singing the Spice Girls. That much I can guarantee.”

His blush quickly spreads to the rest of his face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I pull out my phone. “I have a video of it in here somewhere that could jog your memory. Just give me a second…”

“You filmed it?”

“Obviously. Whenever Nico and I are having a bad day, you dressed up as Sporty Spice always makes us laugh.”

“I was an athlete.”

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