Page 41 of The Kiss Principle

“Too fucking bad. It’s my money, and I already bought them.”

Zé shook his head and held them out toward me.

“Then throw them away.”

He was looking at the ground now. A hint of red showed under the dark brown of his skin.

“They’re a gift,” I said. “Because I like you. And because I’m grateful for you.”

His voice was small when he said, “I don’t need you to buy me anything.”

“That’s the whole fucking premise of a gift, dick-drip.” It was hard to make a dramatic exit with a stroller, but I think I kind of managed it. “I’m going to change Igz.”

By some miracle, the public restrooms had a changing table in the men’s room. Igz fussed a little as I got her changed, and I thought Zé was probably right—she was hungry. When I came out of the restroom, Zé was standing there, still staring atthe ground. He managed to look both miserable and pathetic. I started down the sidewalk. The jingle of a bell as someone sold ice cream out of a handcart. Children laughing. A gull screeching. Movement in the corner of my eye made me turn—the damn bird was flying straight at me—no, straight at Igz. I ducked, shielding Igz as I waved an arm, trying to knock the bird off course.

It didn’t come anywhere near us. I understood that as soon as my brain caught up with my body. The gull veered off, shrieking as it flew away. But my body didn’t care about that. My adrenaline was still up. I was starting to shake.

“Are you okay?” Zé asked. He was limping worse than ever, but he tried to jog to catch up.

“I’m fine,” I snapped. But the anger was fading along with the fear. “Jesus Christ, these fucking birds.”

“One time, one of them took a hot dog right out of my hand. I screamed like a girl.”

I laughed, and after a moment, Zé laughed too. He was still holding the sunglasses, but with his free hand he touched my arm, and then he leaned over the stroller to check Igz.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Apparently, I’m a flincher when it comes to seagulls. And I’m starving. And I’m mad at myself because I ruined our day.”

“Our day started with you yelling at me to get my stuff because you were in a fight with your mom.”

“You understand how that doesn’t make me feel better, right?”

That got me a real Zé smile, the slow one.

“Asshole,” I muttered. “Come on. How about there?”

Therewas a beachside cantina—barely more than a wooden frame, with three sides open to the beach. Inside, the aestheticwas driftwood and Modelo, and lazy ceiling fans spun overhead. I ordered a Modelo—hey, advertising works—and Zé got water.

As I unbuckled her, he said, “I’ll do it.”

“No,” I said. “It’s your day off.” And then, because Augustus comes by his pettiness honestly, I said, “I don’t need you to do extra work for free.”

Unhappiness etched his face, and he wrapped both hands around his glass.

Once I had Igz contentedly sucking down a bottle, I took a sip of my beer.

Zé held up one finger.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means.”

I took a longer drink.

“I’m serious, Fernando. You’re driving.”

I set the bottle down. It clinked against the wood.

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