Page 149 of Mexico Can Choke On It
“No argument there. He cares about power. Not people. Least of all his own son. You do not get to opt out of being a Sterling. You just get to choose how miserable you want to be about it.”
“That’s so fucked. Bryce, I’m sorry.”
“Well,” I say, attempting to lighten the mood, “at least there’s the consolation of hot dog carts in New York.”
“Best ones are in Brooklyn. Culinary magic on the tongue. The heartburn’s totally worth it.”
We fall quiet again.
But this silence is heavier.
I don’t voice the question burning in my throat—would you visit me?
Petra finally speaks, her voice surprisingly shy.
“At the carnival tonight, you mentioned waiting seven years to taste me again. That night at my graduation—when I kissed you—were you really thinking about me all this time?”
My heart stutters. I pull out my phone, fingers gliding over the screen to my hidden playlist. The glow cuts through the dark as I land on the song that’s always been my emotional downfall. I press play.
The opening piano notes of “Alone” by Heart drift softly from the speaker.
Petra’s breath catches. “Oh my God. That song was playing that night in my room.”
“I remember.”
“Bryce…” Her voice breaks. “That was the worst day. And the best. All at once.”
She shifts to face me fully, her legs curling around my waist, drawing me in. A flicker of vulnerability crosses her face, flaming up a surge of emotions inside me.
The music, aching and electric, grips the air between us like it knows what we’re about to do. I lift my hand and trace her jaw, committing the delicate contours of her face to memory. My pulse pounds as I lean in—
“Wait,” she breathes, her palm pressing against my beating heart. “I need to confess something, and if I don’t admit it now, I’ll never find the courage.”
Her fingers tremble as she looks away, brushing the silky strands behind her lobe to expose the delicate broken heart.
“It’s you, Bryce. I’ve been helplessly in love with you since I was fifteen.”
The earth stops spinning. Waves freeze mid-crash. Every cell in my body plunges into free fall.
“I’m not telling you so you’ll say something back. It was just a stupid, over-the-top, teen girl crush that somehow never died. A few years ago, I finally worked up the courage to tell you, but you had already moved in with Amanda. I fled to Europe like a love-sick idiot.”
Her laugh is hollow. My chest is caving in.
“I realize how insane this sounds, but… before we go our separate ways, I wanted to finally tell you. I’m glad we had this time and that I got to know you. The real you. It honestly made all the heartbreak worth it.”
“Why me?” slips out.
She shrugs like it’s obvious. “My heart says you. Always has.”
I’m speechless.
“Maybe because you’ve always been decent to me. Or it’s that you never talked down to me when everyone else did. I don’t know. You’re you. That’s the whole reason. Love is stupid.”
She’s loved me since she was fifteen years old. She could’ve been mine this entire time?
“Okay. Enough about my unhinged teenage obsession. I promise not to stalk you in New York like a psycho. Let’s go see if there’s a bar still open.”
She starts to rise, but I grab her waist and pull her onto my lap.
