Been You

Chapter 68: Tacos Conmigo

JUSTIN'S POV:

After Ely leaves, I scroll through the pictures of her that I just took. I watch as she gains confidence picture by picture. I smile to myself, feeling accomplished. No, I wasn't really planning on jacking off while she's gone. I know it sounds stupid, but ever since being with her... masturbating never lives up to the real thing. I only told her that she made me want to because I could tell her self esteem was slipping. I mean, it's not really a lie, specifically. She did make me want to have sex with her, but if I said that, she'd seduce me. Then we'd be having sex instead of her making friends, building a support system, having fun. That's more important to me - her happiness. Once I reach the final picture, her confidence seems the most natural, like she's not even trying anymore. I really hope she can keep that up.

I get up once I've finished admiring Ely, I get up to go downstairs to find something to eat. There's nothing already made in the fridge, so I decide to make something. I decide on tacos. I mindlessly go through the motions, preparing the food. My mom taught me to cook at a young age, and I've always loved it. I find peace in it, not having to think, just doing it. Almost like hockey, except an entire audience doesn't cheer you on after you toast a tortilla. Once everything is prepared, I set the ingredients up on the island. I always end up making to much, but that has never been a problem since I've moved in this house. Nothing goes to waste here, everyone eats so much because the sport takes a lot out of you. And like clockwork, Ryan and Za come rolling in.

"What smells so good?" Za marvels.

"Damn, I've missed your cooking, man," Ryan compliments, grabbing a hard shell. Maybe an audience does cheer when I cook. I smile to myself, flattered. Za takes a bite of his soft shell taco that he prepared.

"Shit, this is amazing, man," Za says with his mouth full, his hand clapping my shoulder.

"So, are we still allowed to speak English with ya, bro?" Ryan asks, stifling a laugh. What? I furrow my brows in confusion.

"Ry. Don't," Za warns, knowingly. What am I missing?

"No, tell me? Why wouldn't we be speaking English?" I ask obliviously. Ryan hesitates before explaining.

"It's just that... you're dating a Spanish girl, cooking Spanish food... sooner or later you're gonna be speaking Spanish and wearing a sombrero!" Ryan says. What the fuck? I don't even know where to start. I fight the urge to just punch him in the face. I take a deep breath before starting.

"The only reason that I'm reasoning with you instead of beating the shit out of you is because you probably don't know any better," I deliberate. "First, Ely is afro-latina; puerto rican to be specific. Second, I just made tacos - which are Mexican - once. Tacos that you didn't have to eat. Tacos that people of all ethnicities make and eat. Third, aprendí el idioma español cuando era un niño porque la chica de mayor importancia en mi vida era más cómoda hablando español." Ryan furrows his eyebrows at me.

"He learned Spanish as a kid because Ely wasn't comfortable with English yet," Za explains.

"See what I mean?" Ryan asks, exacerbated.

"No, because what you said was racist, man. I just made tacos, it doesn't have to be because my girlfriend is Hispanic, and a lot of what you said were stereotypes," I explain.

"What does it matter? It's not like any of them are here," he rationalizes.

"It matters because that type of thinking is super harmful. You should be ashamed, bro. Your girlfriend is Mexican. What if someone spoke about her like that?" I press. He thinks for a moment.

"But she's not like Mexican Mexican. Like, you wouldn't even know it if it weren't for her name."

"Okay, then let's call her and ask her how she feels about it!" I suggest smugly, pulling my phone out.

"Alright, alright!" Ryan rushes, pulling my phone down. "I get it, I'll chill," he relents.

"Yeah, I bet you will," Za laughs, fist bumping me. "Justin, these tacos really are banging though."