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Poor Latino boy gives a white boy a book

José's room was a strange sight. It was small, its walls covered by colourful posters although, on closer inspection, most were simply printed pictures of half-naked women. Next to the door was an old drawer that had been vandalized by black Sharpie, scissors and holographic stickers.

-That work of art was by my brothers- the Mexican said, pointing at the scribbles on the drawer's side.

"Is that your bed?"

Timothy was talking about the mattress that laid on a vintage rug, surrounded by books, papers and broken pencils.
José laughed, his eyes now fixed on his feet. He scratched the back of his head, nodding shyly.
He had never invited his friends over, let alone shown them his room.
Trying to pull Timothy's attention away from his bed, José took the white kid's hand and pulled him to a pile of milk crates overflowing with novels.

-These are my pride and joy.

Timmy took the one that rested on the too of the highest crate, flipping it over to its back. The name of the novel was The Lord Of The Rings. The Christian boy had heard of the books, but his mother forbade him from reading non-christian books.
José watched as Timothy read the first page of the book, mesmerized by the words that decorated the cream coloured pages.
   His blue eyes darted from line to line, his lips curling into a smile with every word he read. Although the book was worn out, he turned the pages with the utmost delicacy.
  
"Do you think I could... Borrow it?" He asked, holding the book tightly against his chest.
-¡Of course! It's my favourite book and I would be honoured to share J.R.R. Tolkien's master pice with you.

In truth, José was reluctant in letting himself part away from the book, but the smile plastered on Timmy's face had woken the sleeping butterflies in the Latino's stomach.