“Interesting,” Rosalind said, reading over my shoulder. “Very interesting.”
I turned my phone face down. “It’s nothing.”
Four sets of skeptical eyes stared back at me.
“Okay,” Catalina said slowly. “Now we definitely know something’s wrong. The Tempest I know would have at least three clever responses to her rom-com movie hero in the flesh at the ready.”
She wasn’t wrong. But the Tempest they knew wasn’t hiding multiple secret identities while nursing the worst hangover of her life.
“Spring break at Abuela’s villa,” Catalina said again. “Promise you’ll think about it? She’s been asking for you specifically. Says you’re the only one who appreciates her telenovela marathons. And it would get you away from all...” she gestured vaguely at me, “...this.”
I nodded, mostly to make them stop looking at me like that.
My phone buzzed again. And again.
“Aren’t you going to answer him?” Rosalind asked.
“Nope.” I took a careful sip of pozole. I needed some regenerative nutrition if I was going to make it through the rest of this family...life. “I’m going to pretend last night never happened and avoid him until graduation.”
“Bold strategy.” Freddie closed her laptop. “Especially since you have class with him tomorrow.”
Oh donkey balls. I did. And our fake-tutoring study sessions after.
My sisters exchanged looks that definitely meant trouble.
“Don’t,” I warned.
“Don’t what?” Ophelia asked innocently. “Don’t point out that you’re obviously into him? Don’t mention how he literally carried you home? Don’t?—”
I threw a tortilla at her head.
“Violence.” She ducked, laughing. “See? This is why you need a vacation. You’re getting aggressive in your old age.”
My phone buzzed a fourth time.
“At least read the messages,” Ophelia said softly.
I shook my head. Some things were better left unread. Like drunk texts, party photos, and whatever Flynn Kingman had to say about my behavior last night.
But as my siblings launched into planning Abuela’s welcome home party, including every extended family member we had in a hundred mile radius, a donkey piñata and an AbuelaNovela shaped cake, my brain wouldn’t let go of what those messages might say.
Not that it mattered. I had enough complications in my life without adding six feet plus of football player with annoyingly perfect biceps to the mix.
Even if he did have un trasero that wouldn’t quit.
One that I couldn’t face right now. And for the first time in my entire academic career, I skipped class.
And I skipped our regular study session. And ignored Flynn’s texts. It was better that way.
Because I did not want to admit to...anything even close to maybe, possibly, a tiny bit of developing feelings for him.
I knew better. Flynn Kingman was a flirt. He had more notches on his headboard than was reasonable, and I doubted he even wanted to add me to them. I’d read that kind of romantic plotline, and it didn’t have an HEA.
Unrequited love was my least favorite trope.
So I’d continue to ignore him for a few more days until I could remember who and what I was. Then at least that part of my life would go back to normal. I needed some normalcy.
I was hoping I would find it at the farm animal sanctuary. I loved baby donkey, but he needed a real home.