Page 59 of Outspoken

The darkness is trying to creep in, and I just need to forget myself. Ineedto laugh and have fun and flirt with Miguel so I can feel normal.

I’ll deal with gloomy emotions later.

Please, give me one day in this fantasy.

Miguel shoves a huge forkful of tamale into his mouth, chewing, before saying, “Sorry for disappearing. What’d I miss?”

Rico says something to him in Spanish, and Miguel frowns.

I set my fork down to hug my waist. I’m really not liking how I’m left out of conversations.

Ignore it. Think about everything later. Just have fun.

“Excuse me,” Maribel says, standing suddenly with a smirk. “I need to check on the food and wrangle the kids for cake. Want to help, Lupita?”

Lupita nods, and they both disappear.

Next, Rico leans back to pat his stomach. “Damn, I make good brisket and barbacoa. You agree?” He glances at Becca, who only shrugs.

Then she smiles at his appalled reaction and says, “Honey, we should help Maribel, too, right?”

Rico glances at me, then at Miguel, and then nods. Miguel says something quickly in Spanish, looking concerned. When Rico responds, I catch the word ‘amor’, which means love—I remember that much Spanish at least.

Rico and Becca hurry away.

Threatening gray clouds appear on the horizon of my thoughts. I fight them off. I can ignore all the whisperings and my unsettled feelings if Miguel just goes back to being flirty and intense. I desperately need the fantasy now. Too much of reality is slipping in—too many reminders that I don't fit, that I'm clueless and lost, that people talk about me behind my back or in front of me in another language.

Just let me have an escape. Please.

I touch Miguel’s forearm, inching closer. “Your cousin does make great brisket.”

He stares at his retreating family like a lost puppy. “Um, yeah.” He pulls out his phone to compose a text. Then he glances at me, his expression neutral. “What’d you guys talk about?”

I force a laugh, playing with my hair. “They grilled me a little while I was missing you.”

He freezes, wetting his lips. He puts his phone away and leans closer. “Yeah?”

I hum and nod, still smiling.Just flirt with me, dammit.“They seemed a littletoointerested in me. You sure you’ve brought chicks over in the past?”

He stares at my mouth, leaning in and putting his arm around the back of my chair. My stomach is assaulted with butterflies, and I actually don’t mind—they’re a welcome relief.

“Maybe not that many,” he says. “Maybe you are special, like Bob said. Thanks for entertaining them. They can be a handful.”

“No more than you, so I’m used to it. I think your intensity is growing on me.” When I touch his thigh and glance at his mouth, his dreamy gaze falters.

With alarmed eyes, he nods sharply and sits up, yanking his hand from my chair. “Sorry,” he says quickly. “I forgot about something Maribel needs. I’ll be right back.” He rushes off, abandoning his full plate of food.

Something isseriouslywrong if he’s not eating.

I slouch in my chair, losing my will to keep fighting the gloominess. This day hasn’t gone at all like I had hoped because hope is a stupid emotion.

I should just leave. I was stupid for thinking today would be fun. My life is pretty much a series of failures—here’s another one.

I glance across the table, two seconds away from standing, when I notice that a teenager has suddenly appeared. He’s oblivious to everything except his phone, and he’s wearing a gray hoodie that surrounds him like a cocoon—a cave concealing most of his face in shadow. His entire upper body is buried under the thick, billowy fabric.

“Uh, hi,” I say, not wanting to be rude by leaving without acknowledging him.

He responds with a head nod, his eyes never leaving his phone screen.

---