Page 47 of Outspoken

After reading his shirt, I laugh. It reads:Into fitness. Fitness taco into my mouth.

“It’s perfect,” I say.

He returns my smile, actually holding my gaze. “I found the perfect one for you.” He holds up a shirt that reads:Save the planet. It’s the only one with chocolate.

I laugh, grabbing a different shirt with the text:Feed me chocolate and touch my butt.“I like this one better,” I say, biting my lower lip and intentionally glancing at his mouth so he’ll get the hint.

He laughs hard at the shirt but doesn’t take the bait to say something flirty.

I hold the garment against me, smoothing it so my breasts are emphasized. “Guess I could buy it and then flash you as I change.”

He smirks but says nothing, turning his attention to the next booth. As he shoves part of his button-up into a back pocket, letting the rest hang, he walks away. I frown and drop the shirt. It’s cute, but I’d rather not spend thirty bucks on it, especially if it won’t get Miguel to actually touch my butt. He sure seemed to enjoy that particular asset of mine when we were at the gym.

Guess he really has lost interest.Maybe he met someone.

Why do I care? I shouldn’t. I don't.

“Hey, have you seen lucha libre?” he asks as I follow him.

“No, but I like the way it rolls off your tongue.” I grimace at myself.I’ve gone insane.

He points into the distance, my flirting attempt falling flat. Again. “They’re starting in the ring. Let’s watch.”

I tag along behind him, feeling defeated and struggling to keep up with his large strides. We find a good spot in the crowd to watch the luchadores, clapping and cheering as they battle each other in the ring. The entire match is high energy, the colorful luchadores bouncing off ropes and doing acrobatics.

It’s hard to concentrate, though. Miguel’s complete change in personality is bothering me too much. I finally ask, “Are you dating?”

He sticks his fingers into his mouth to whistle at the villain character in the ring. Then he shrugs. “Yeah.”

My stomach knots. “Oh. How’s that going?”

“Pretty good, actually.”

“Girlfriend good?”

He laughs. “Naw. Just playing the field. Keeping it casual.”

I’m relieved that he doesn’t have a girlfriend but unsettled that he's actively dating. I ignore what I’m feeling, which is what I do best. Then, I playfully cock my hip and say, “You? Keeping it casual?”

He faces me, a glint in his brown eyes. He looks ready to finally respond how he normally does—flirtatiously. I wet my bottom lip as he flashes his mesmerizing dimple and—

“Oh, hey.” Ashley appears and side-hugs me. “Where the fuck have you been? I looked everywhere.” She’s a bit unsteady on her feet, swaying with two drinks in her hands. “Guess I got distracted by this guy who kept buying me shots. Here, I figured you drank that margarita by now.”

I glare at her.Great. Now Miguel will think I was drinking.If he thinks that, he really will write me off.

My face heats with embarrassment. I can feel Miguel's gaze on me, but I don't look at him—I’m not ready to face his changed opinion of me.

Ashley shoves a cup into my hand. The liquid inside is dark and fizzy. I sniff it—sweet, carbonated, and bitter.

“Is this just soda?” I ask.

Ashley laughs. “Oh, uh-huh. It’sjustsoda.” She winks, but she’s so tipsy it’s way exaggerated.

I stare at my cup, suddenly aware of Miguel’s body pressing closer. I finally glance up, bracing for his reaction. What will it be? Disappointment? Anger? A look that says,'Typical Amber'?

There’s none of that. His eyes are kind, and he’s smiling softly with his normal, upbeat expression. “I could go for some soda,” he says. “Feel like sharing?”

I look back down at the cup, my mind blanking.

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