Page 58 of Outspoken

I’m thinking crazy right now.

I force a smile and take a bite of smoky brisket, shoving my crazy thoughts aside and ignoring the swirling pit in my stomach. “What a coincidence,” I say, eager to steer the conversation to anything else. I pick a different question to answer. “Um, and my brother is great. Thank you for asking. I really appreciate all of those meals you made. They helped so much.”

Lupita tips her head. “Meals, mija?”

“When my brother was in the hospital, Miguel came over with the meals you made.”

After recognition flashes in her eyes, she says, “Oh, yes. I helped, but he wanted to do the cooking. Miguel loves to cook and you are—”

Maribel interrupts again, speaking in clipped Spanish. Then Rico joins and they have a whispering conversation I don't understand. Unfortunately, I failed Spanish in high school, so unless someone asks where the library is, I have no idea what they’re saying.

The swirling pit in my stomach is now an abyss. Knowing Miguel cooked those meals—especially the one we shared—feels too intimate for two people who weren’t dating and had barely met. He did say he had deep feelings for me that same day, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m mostly unsettled that he made it seem like Lupita did the cooking. Why not be honest?

If he had said he cooked the meals, we would've had a talk. And instead of getting all emotionally intense, if he had only said, “Hey, I like you,” I would have responded, “Hey, I'm not looking for a relationship.” Then we would've eaten a civil meal together and said goodbye without any of that heat and emotional turmoil at the end.

Though, our kiss was pretty damn great…

Regardless, his being hot doesn’t excuse his secrecy.

I smile at everyone, waiting for a break in their conversation before asking Lupita, “Was it Miguel’s idea to cook the meals?”

Wrinkles fan from the corner of Lupita's eyes. She glances at Rico and Maribel, who are both now fake-smiling at me.

Something is seriously off.They’re all hiding something.

“Oh,” Lupita says, waving her tiny hands. “It was so long ago I don’t remember. What do you do for work, mija?”

Now my smile is fake. But they've all been so welcoming, and I don't want to be rude. If they are hiding something, I have a feeling that Miguel is behind it. “I'm a student,” I say, “and I work temp jobs.”

Maribel perks up. “What are you studying?”

I push through the gloom suffocating my thoughts so I can remain friendly and polite. “Just foundational classes right now like, math and writing. I haven’t picked a major yet.”

“Sounds familiar,” Rico says, glancing at Maribel.

“Yup,” she responds with a sigh. “Sometimes you need to experiment to figure it out.” After a sip of water, she meets my curious gaze. “I had no idea what I wanted to do in school for a long time. I took so many classes I could've gotten two degrees. My friend was into volunteering, so she signed me up for a program that gave campus tours to at-risk high school students. I loved it. I finally settled on becoming an admissions counselor, though I didn't need much schooling for it.” She laughs. “Could've saved myself a lot of tuition if I had found my calling earlier.”

“How did you know it was your calling?”

She points her fork at me. “Mmm, that’s a tough one. It’s hard to put into words. When I began working with stressed students and saw them grow in confidence, I guess…I guess I felt a lot of pride. I was helping the younger generation and the community, so when I went home, I felt—” She picks at her food for a moment to think. “I felt peaceful. It was rewarding, and I had never felt that way before. I don’t work as a counselor anymore because my passion now is raising my kids, but I'll probably go back once my kids are older.”

“Daniel needs all the attention he can get,” Rico comments and everyone laughs.

“I’m glad you found your calling,” I tell Maribel, fighting to keep my tone light and cheerful—it keeps trying to crash. “Sounds nice. I hope to find that myself someday.”

Hope to.I’m not sure I believe I ever will.

Maribel squeezes my forearm. “I’m sure you will. Just keep trying new things. My mom likes to say that everything happens for a reason, and I truly believe that. Trust the process and have faith.”

A shadow falls over the table.

“Hey, where’s my seat?” Miguel asks, holding a plate of food and grinning. He grabs a plastic chair nearby and brings it over, making everyone scoot so there’s room next to me.

Some of my gloom fades as his dimple shines at me. His eyes catch mine and my body relaxes.

“Where have you been?” I ask as he sits, a smile unconsciously lifting my cheeks.

I’m a whirlwind of conflicting and confusing emotions—and I have an unsettling suspicion that something is going on that no one wants me to know about—but I’m still happy Miguel is back. I can forgive and forget, at least for the rest of this party. The thing with the meals was over a year ago, and he probably forgot about it. We’ve already addressed his intense feelings, and his crush seems to have lessened since he’s now dating. Maybe there's more to this story, but I'm choosing to ignore all of it for now.

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