Painful Desires || COMPLETED ✔️

Chapter 7

       I squeeze his cheeks between my hands trying not to smile. "You wish. Now flip it before it burns," I snap my fingers pointing at the light smoke coming from the comal.

"Oh shit," he picks at it with the tips of his fingers. I laugh as he grabs a flat spatula using it to try and flip it over.

I crack my knuckles, "Step aside pretty boy."

I pick at the slightly lifted side and as I'm flipping it Lucas yells and the tortilla lands on the stove. I glare up at him and he chuckles as if it's the funniest thing.

"Aii, ni esta caliente," my mom comes from behind saying it's not hot, and places her hand on the comal, and Lucas gasps.

"Ma!" I lift her hand and she laughs, picking up the tortilla from the stove and placing it on the little pile beside us.

Isa appears with a plate in her hands, "What are yall cooking?"

I place the burnt tortilla on her plate and she sticks her tongue out and I copy her.

Manuel takes the plate and replaces it with a bowl of sweet potato with sweetened milk. "Ooh yummy," she goes to sit down.

I take a spoonful out of her bowl and she knows better than to fight me on it, "Mm. Ma, donde esta Christian y Ava?" Isa asks.

My mom tells us they had some errands to run, but they'll be back later today or tomorrow morning.

"Que quieren hacer hoy?" My mom asks Lucas and me about today's plans. I shrug looking up at him and he shrugs back.

"We could go to the swimming hole, I know you need that tan," I sip on a glass of water.

His hand flies to his chest, "How dare you."

"It's probably all that vitamin C you put on your face."

He gasps, "It's called having a skincare routine. At least my skin isn't dry."

My mouth falls open and Isa, "Oohs."

"Yeah, well. You're dry!"

      Marisol squeals sprinting toward us down the hill from my house, her dark curly brown hair bouncing.

She screams jumping on me, I stumble back to catch her. She brings Lucas in, wrapping her arm around his shoulder and I feel the warmth in all our smiles.

"I've missed you guys," she squeezes us tightly.

"We've missed you too," we both say.

Marisol's deep brown skin and almond eyes give her a goddess-like aesthetic with her white two-piece and flowy dress.

She squeals jumping down, "Are you ready?"

We nod eagerly and she waves over a light-skinned girl in a matching two-piece taking out a small cooler from the back of Marisol's truck. She has long brown braids with beads and other small decorative hair items, and a necklace that looked like the third eye.

"Hi, I'm Fiona," she offers her hand with rings on her black nail-polished fingers. She's taller than I expected--taller than Marisol.

I shake her hand introducing us.

"It's nice to meet the rest of the Throuple."

"Oh god," Marisol groans. I chuckle awkwardly darting my eyes between Lucas and Marisol.

"Guys I told her not to mention that."

"Theirs no need to be shy baby. It speaks on their character."

In our freshman year of high school, a group of kids was making fun of Marisol's bold and androgynous style. It was borderline bullying so we did what any other gay, lesbian, and ally would do; holding hands, skipping class to sit with her during lunch, and doing almost everything together.

It became a normalized routine that made no sense for them to pick on her, not that she needed our protection. She had the attitude but she was only five-foot-two at the time and her ribs would easily show.

It never truly ended until I confronted one of the guys--the one that Marisol rejected. I punched him in the nose and I was on the ground in seconds, turns out he was on the wrestling team.

Lucas came out of nowhere tackling him off me, roaring in anger and throwing punches despite his hate for violence. At the time I didn't care that my lips were bleeding and my stomach burned because all I thought about was, he did that for me. I think it might have been the moment I realized I was in love with him.

"I guess..." Marisol looks away sheepishly. "Oh! And guess who came out..." she waits for a dramatic pause. "The guy who tackled you."

"No way!"

"The one I put in the hospital?"

Marisol nods, "Yep," she pops her lips. "He had that internalized homophobia."

"That might have been why he went for my balls, trying to pin me down."

"He touched you?!"

Everyone turns to look at me.

"Yeah but, you know," his lips twitch into a small smile. "I put him in the hospital, so."

Isa comes to a sharp stop, kicking up dirt with her red four-wheeler. "Race ya!"

      Pushing down on the small pedal and Lucas's arms tighten around my waist, and his chin digs into my shoulder. I make a sharp turn and he squeals, squeezing my hips between his thighs. He slaps my back feeling my body shaking with laughter.

When I was fifteen years old I wanted to buy a four-wheeler and Lucas said he'd pay for half if I let him ride it first. He was so excited about the shiny black four-wheeler with golden flames on the sides. After spending days making a patchy trail from my house to the swimming hole, he went a little too sharp on a turn and we flipped over.

His leg got pinned under and I somehow managed to lift it off him, I had to walk him back to the house before going back for the four-wheeler. To this day he has the lightest scar on the side of his knee.

"I'm gonna win!" Isa's voice carries through the wind. I press down on the gas pedal and Lucas presses himself against me.

I hear the flow of the water before I see the end of the trail and I slam on the breaks, his nails dig into my skin and I can imagine him closing his eyes and hiding his face into my neck.

I place my hand over his interlocked fingers, "Are you okay?"