Something in the Orange

Chapter Thirteen

"There ain't no love a man can find you'd feel her in a room if you was blind"
Smaller Acts - Zach Bryan

Apprehension claws at her as she paces across her apartment. Their trip to Mexico revealed nothing but dead ends, placing them back at square one.

Nestor refused to speak of his mysterious phone call that dragged them back to Santo Padre. The whole three hour car trip done in silence, Nestor barely managed a grunt goodbye as he dropped her home, before speeding off.

Sleep deprived and caffeine induced alertness adding to the nervous energy bouncing around inside of her, forcing her awake at five am. Her worry for Nestor and Miguel growing with each passing moment. Leaning against the arm of her favorite armchair she studies the empty space where her dining table used to be.

A gentle smile graces her lips as she finished her coffee, placing the cup on the coffee table. Swiftly, she rearranges the furniture, clearing the path and rolling up the rug to create an expansive open space.

She connects her phone to the Bluetooth speaker, filling the apartment with the melodies of her favorite playlist. The music breathes life into the surroundings as she taps the play button.

With deliberate grace, she commences her stretching routine, releasing the tension that had coiled within her. Soon, her body finds its rhythm, and she glides from one end of her apartment to the other, lost in the euphoria of movement. Dance has always been her sanctuary—a respite that transcends worries. With each pirouette, the memory of waking with Nestor's calloused touch across her skin fades.

Her memory plays like a highlight reel of her life. Miguel reading to her every night, long after she could read on her own. Building blanket forts and hiding in his treehouse. Sneaking through the secret tunnels and finding all the best vantage points to spy on her parents. The way Miguel would always find her the most ridiculous Christmas sweater every year. Dita teaching her how to cook, how to braid her hair so it would stay off her face. The rare moments her father would hug her, smoothing her hair back, kissing her softly on her forehead.

She remembers the time when one of her classmates slapped her because her brother had overdosed and she blamed Vee for it. Climbing in the car, her bruised cheek and split lip sending Mateo into a rage, he took a pound of flesh for her that day. A soft smile grows at the thought of her first kiss, the familiar gold flecked eyes watching her as she stumbled through the awkward dare.

Her body twists and turns as she flies across the floor. It had been far too long since she last danced, her muscles aching as she continues to push herself, forcing her body into moves she hasn't done in years. The challenge pushing her on, and pushing down her stress.

Out of breath she folds over, letting her fingers graze the floor.

"One of these days you're going to have to show me how you're getting in here" she mutters, as she catches her breath.

Nestor chuckles as he turns her music off, "I'm surprised you even realized I was here."

"It took me a minute, but the air changed" she grumbles as she plonks herself on the floor, slowly stretching her body out, cooling down. A soft moan escapes her throat at the instant relief.

"The air changed?" She hears Nestor ask as he moves through her apartment, her fridge door opening and closing, a moment later he looms over her, handing her a cold bottle of water. She nods her thanks, draining half the bottle in two gulps. Nestor sitting on the floor across from her.