Page 5 of Heat Haze
What’s so weird about it? The fact they live differently from us? The fact they don’t have granite countertops and a weird need to make sure every part of their life appeals to other people? My jaw clenches, but I can’t bring myself to start an argument.
Levi nods, nuzzling against Frank. “I’m not eating anything they serve, so… Sorry.”
Nadine comes to sit next to me on the couch, wrapping her arm around my side to pull me close. “Come on, Nico, I know you wanna pretend you’re the boy with the heart of gold or whatever, but do youseriouslythink this is a good idea?”
“Yes,” I say through grit teeth. “You guys are just being dramatic.” They don’t understand. They just don’t. They don’t know what it’s like to be different—to be the one people judge without so much as a second thought.
Nadine sighs, pulling away but staying seated. Grant joins us, and despite how tense the air is, nobody wants to say anything. I’m kind of glad, since I don't wanna argue. Not now.
“Alrighty…” Damien hums as he peeks back inside the living room. “Y’all ready for supper?”
CHAPTER FOUR
The dining room is almost silent. Aside from the occasional clink of silverware or the soft clatter of plates being passed around, nobody speaks. The family—the Taveras—are sitting on one side, while my friends and I are on the other.
It’s the kind of table you see at a banquet, super long with more chairs than probably needed. A white cloth is draped over top, but it’s so tattered and beat up it’s really more of a gray color now. The dishes are clean, the silverware so shiny you can see all the little scratches and marks on it.
“This is my papá, Mr. Tavera.” Damien explains, motioning towards the older man with salt and pepper hair that’s thinning out on the sides. His hazel eyes are sunken in, seemingly disinterested in the conversation.
He looks up at us through his thick brows, but he doesn’t appear very happy. I can’t blame him though, I don’t think I’d be that thrilled to find a bunch of strangers in my house either. I feel awful to impose like this. Maybe this was a mistake after all.
“It’s nice to meet y’all,” he finally says. His voice is hoarse and gravelly. His southern accent surprisingly isn’t as strong as Damien’s. “I hope you enjoy dinner. My daughter, Alma, worked hard on it. She always does.”
He shoots his daughter a smile, and the woman’s face brightens a little. Her hair is sleek and long, done into two braids with neat curtain bangs. She’s undeniably pretty, with a mole just under her lip.
“It’s mamá’s recipe,” she explains while staring us down. Alma scans each and every one of us, the spark of annoyance on her face growing more noticeable with everyuntouched bowl she sees. She doesn’t say anything, though, she only takes a bite and shakes her head.
I look down at the bowl of soup. Pozole, I think. Of course my friends haven’t tried any, even if half my bowl is already gone. It tastesamazing, even if the pork tastes a little different than I would’ve expected.
“It’s really good,” I say as Alma’s eye catches mine, a genuine smile creeping up on her face. Damien chuckles a little, hitting his brother Lucio’s shoulder. The man’s hair is as short as his fathers, although it’s thicker in the front. He’d probably do numbers on TikTok since he has the ‘look’ of every guy I’ve ever seen on there.
“You like it?” Lucio asks while leaning in, the faintest grin on his lips. It almost feels as if there’s some kind of inside joke I don’t know about going on. “Your friends don’t seem to. They haven’t even touched it.”
“I’m a vegan,” Levi lies with no hesitation. “So, uh, sorry. Can’t.”
Nadine thoughtfully hums in agreement “Yeah—same. It smells great, though.”
Lucio’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t call their bluffs. “Alright. Fair enough. Guess you got a lot of y’all vegan-types up inLos Angeles, huh?” There’s almost some sort of malice in the way he emphasizes the city’s name.
“Big city,” Grant shrugs, “lots of different people.”
“Fair enough.” Lucio takes a sip of his water. “At least one of y’all can appreciate a nice home cooked meal.”
He grins at me, but there’s nothing genuine about it. It feels comparable to some kind of act, it’s all for show, isn’t it? There’s also something else, something I can’t quite put a finger on.
I sheepishly smile back, but when I glance down at my dinner I notice someone is gawking at me curiously. It’s the youngest brother, Toro. In the brighter light of the dining room his features are more prominent. His eyes are two big pots of honey, so bright and warm despite his dark features. His lashes are long and his lips a little chapped, with a few faint scars slashed across them.
He’s silent as he gawks, and I follow his eyes down to the pocket of my shirt. I see the bright blue packet of cookies and realize what he’s after before letting out a chuckle. It’s sort of cute in its own way, seeing a guy that has to be at least 6’5” acting all shy over some candy.
I pull it out, smiling at him while extending my hand out for him to take it. “You can have it, I’m probably not gonna want it after dinner anyway.”
Toro’s definitely surprised at this, face twisting into something that can only be described as pure confusion. He glances over at his father, who’s sitting in the seat furthest from him.
“Just take the damn cookies, boy.” He sighs, pushing his spoon around the bowl. He’s obviously talking down to his son, not even trying to hide how annoyed he is. “Don’t even think about eating it untilaftersupper.”
Toro beams, reaching out to gently pluck the packet from my hand. His tanned fingers brush against my own, and it’s obvious who gets out more because his tan is much darker than mine.
His nails are cut short, his thick fingers and calloused skin telling a story of their own. He must do a lot of work around the farm just like Damien does. It’s impressive, honestly. This trip is the longest I’ve been out of the house in a long,longtime.
