𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓S

🌧💗SPARKS IN THE RAIN-CHAPTER-8

THE NEXT DAY

It's a Friday, and the last rays of the setting sun cast long shadows across the bleachers as Naveen fidgeted with the strap of his backpack. Unlike his social butterfly of a sister, Meera, Naveen preferred the quiet company of a few close friends. Today, that meant just Aaron, his companion since kindergarten. "Dude, did you see Jordan trying to hit on Julia again?" Aaron scoffed, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and annoyance. "That guy's relentless. How does he manage to fool so many girls?"

Ever the introvert, Naveen rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Leave it, macha (buddy)." Social commentary wasn't his thing. He was more comfortable lost in a book or tinkering with his latest tech project.

Aaron, oblivious to Naveen's introverted nature, pressed on. "Did you hear the rumor about Jordan? Supposedly, he does underground boxing!"

Naveen's head snapped up, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. "Underground boxing? He's, like, seventeen. How can he even get into something like that?"Aaron chuckled. "That's the rumor, Naveen. Age doesn't matter in those circles. They fight in different age groups, and the money can be insane."

Naveen shook his head, a frown creasing his brow. The image of Jordan, the school's resident Casanova, trading witty remarks for brutal punches seemed surreal. "Doesn't sound like a good path," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. 

Aaron grinned. "Yeah, well, some people crave excitement in weird places," he said, slinging an arm around Naveen's shoulder. "Come on, let's get out of here before the hot dogs in Sally's store will become empty".

Naveen, relieved to escape the conversation and the fading light, nodded in agreement as they walked towards the exit.

Luis and Diego Apartment.

Adrian pov:

Man, the kitchen was pure chaos—Luis and Diego were battling it out trying to make patatas bravas, but it looked more like a food fight gone wild. Utensils clanging, ingredients flying everywhere, and a whole lot of yelling in Spanglish. Meanwhile, I was chillin' on the couch, flipping through some motorcycle mag, pretending to ignore the madness.

Then—bam! A scream sliced through the air, followed by a loud crash. I slammed my magazine shut. "Did they finally declare war on the kitchen?" I muttered. The door bursts open and there's Luis, covered head to toe in flour, clutching some busted bowl like it's a trophy.

"Hey! That's my bowl, you butterfingered bandit!" he yells at Diego, who looked like a tomato had exploded on him.

"Imbécil! Planning to eat the bowl too?" Diego snaps back, dodging Luis's swinging arm.

I just shook my head. "What the hell's going on in here?"

"We're crafting a masterpiece, hermano—patatas bravas style!" Luis puffed up like a proud rooster, but the kitchen looked like a war zone. Flour dusted everything, potato skins were on the floor, and some mystery brown stuff was bubbling like it might bite back.

"Alright, listen up, aficionados," I said, smirking. "Diego, what culinary disaster are you blessing us with today?"

Diego struck this dramatic pose. "My secret weapon—creativity, mi amigo!"

I rolled my eyes hard enough to see my brain. "Yeah, your 'creativity' might send us straight to the ER. Step aside."

I moved in, taking control like the kitchen general I am. "Luis, chop those potatoes smaller. We want patatas bravas, not potato grenades."

"And Diego, quit loitering and set the damn table. Also, find the fire extinguisher—you know, just in case, pendejo."

Luis nudged me with a grin. "Meera's lucky to have a husband who can actually cook."