Page 85 of Not Made to Last

I turn to her. “Yes, Miss Mendoza,” I lie. There’s no way I’d be able to keep anything down with the amount of nerves creating havoc inside me since the moment I left Belinda’s office yesterday.

“You make sure to eat, okay?” She goes back to work, mumbling something like, “Growing boy in that big house all by yourself…”

“Have a good night,” Oscar says, smiling at a young family getting up from one of the tables.

When Oscar moved here, his mom needed a job, and the sports park needed a food truck. And since his mom loved feeding the entire neighborhoodjust because, it only made sense that I use the money I didn’t earn and invest it into a business for them. The initial investment was a loan, one they paid back within months of opening. His mom continues to love feeding people, and Oscar gets to hang out at a sports park in his free time. It’s a win-win.

“Wipe down that table,” Oscar says, slamming the spray and cloth to my chest. I take them from him and start wiping down one table while he clears the other. “If you’re so curious about what happened, why don’t you just ask Belinda?”

Like me, Oscar refers to Miss Turner as Belinda because we know her better outside of her job than we do within it. Sure, she sees us as her patients, but above all, we’re friends. Actually, we’re more likefamily. “I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “I don’t want to overstep the boundaries.”

Oscar doesn’t respond, and so I stop wiping and look over at him. He’s already watching me, his head tilted slightly, eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“I’ve been patient with you,” he tells me. “I figured at some point you’re bound to tell me what the hell happened between you and Ollie…” I like that he calls her Ollie, as if they’re actually friends, and if they are, I’m glad it’s Oscar she has by her side. “But I’ve waited, all yesterday and all today, and it’s—” He checks his watch. “It’s almost nine now, so the day’s already gone, and still, no explanation from you.”

I sigh. “She didn’t tell you?”

“I’ve spoken to the girl twice. Once on the first day and then again yesterday. I don’t know shit about shit.”

“No swearing!” his mom yells.

“Sorry, mamá,” he yells back, glaring at me as if I forced curse words down his throat.

I roll my eyes and continue to wipe down the already clean table. “We hung out over the summer.” Such simple words for such a complex situation, but I’m not sure how much I want to reveal just yet.

“Hung out?” he repeats, skeptical.

I stand to full height and heave out a sigh. “We did more than hang out.”

He nods, then jerks his head to somewhere behind me. “Is that why Delgado’s walking toward us lookin’ like he wants to slit your throat and use your decapitated head as a football?”

Fuck.

I turn around, and sure enough… there he is. In the flesh. But he’s not alone. His best friend, Dre, is with him, and Oscar’s right… Delgado lookspissed.

I face Oscar again, but he’s too busy on his phone. “Don’t start shit here, okay?” he says, as if I regularly go aroundstarting shit.

“The fuck?” I mumble.

After pocketing his phone, he shrugs. “Just not around my mom, that’s all.” Then stands beside me and squares his shoulders, ready for whatever.

“Mendoza,” Dominic says as he stops a few feet in front of us. Dre stands next to him, expressionless.

Oscar jerks his chin. “What’s up?”

“My sister says that you guys are friends,” he says, his arms loose at his sides, making it obvious that he didn’t come here to fight. But then again, he probably didn’t expect me to be here. “She mentioned that you’ve looked out for her since she started.” Dominic shrugs. “I just wanted to say thanks, man.”

“It’s nothin’,” Oscar says, and I’m sure he means it. Oscar’s one of the best guys I know, but anyone would say that about their best friend. I’m sure Dre says it about Dominic, and that should tell you something.

Dominic turns to me, his entire demeanor shifting. I stand my ground, my shoulders squared. He has a couple of inches on me, but I have a couple of pounds. I also have enough rage to kill a small horse. Rage I’ve kept contained for far too long. I’vebeenready to release it. All he has to say iswhen. He glares at me, his jaw working. “Did you do it to fuck with me?” he asks. “Like you did with Dani?”

Right. Because of course he’d be thinking about his pathetic ex-girlfriend who left him after two years for one night with me. Oh, and the offer of a Birkin bag. Like I said,pathetic.

If I were someone who actually wants to start shit, I’d tell him all that. Instead, I just say, “No.” And besides, what Liv and I had is none of his fucking business.

“Bullshit!”

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