His Thickest Desire

Chapter Seven

Luis contemplated whether to add a red heart or an orange heart after the smiley face for almost ten minutes.

Hey, I just got home. I haven't faced Sara yet, but I'll call you when I can convince her to leave [eye rolling emoji] [laughing face emoji]. Thank you for having me over last night. No one's ever gone out of their way for me like that, so I really appreciate it. [smiling face emoji] [heart emoji]

His thumb hovered back and forth over the options before he mumbled fuck it and went for the red one. Luis pressed the send arrow and pocketed his phone. The elevator arrived at his floor and he stepped out. He pressed his keys against the doorknob when it pulled away from him. He looked forward to see his best friend leaning against the door with her hand on her hip.

"Luiiiiisss," Sara imitated in her best Ricky Ricardo voice. "You've got some 'splainin' to do." She waved her index finger from side to side. His eyes locked on her finger as she kept talking.

"This is just so not like you, Luis. You know, part of me is beginning to think this guy is not a good influence for you at—"

"He's an ex-con."

"Huh?" Luis made a mental reminder to later inform her of how much she sounded like Scooby-Doo.

"He's been to prison. He's broken the law." His eyes widened as he came to a realization. "I want a criminal to break my back."

"Ex-criminal apparently." She pulled Luis in by his shirt when he raised an eyebrow. "Get in here." Luis let her steer him through his apartment. In seconds, he was sitting in the middle of his wine red couch, a half filled champagne glass in one hand and a cinnamon roll in the other. He sniffed at the light orange drink.

"How did you make mimosas? I only have red wine here."

"I keep multiple bottles at home. You think I'm waking up this early without some type of alcohol or caffeine?" There was a soft thud as Sara set the champagne bottle next to their feet and took a seat across from Luis on the coffee table. "And it's so beautiful out today. I figured why not both?" She shrugged. "Your Colombian blend is in the pot. Now talk."

Luis glanced between the cinnamon roll and the mimosa before downing half the glass. "We made plans for a date last night, but because of the storm we decided to stay in. Have a movie night at one of our houses. We decided on his. I drove over. I hung up on you when I got there." He ignored her raised eyebrow. "We hugged and kissed at the door. He had my favorite snacks and sandwiches set out. It was great! Everything was going great. We ate, talked, laughed." He sighed and rested his forearms on his knees.

"Then we put on a movie. The one you told me about? With the guy going to prison? We're halfway through and all of a sudden he shoots off the couch and runs to the back of his house. I'm calling out for him and he's not answering! So I go looking for him and find him on his bathroom floor gripping a pill bottle. He's a wreck at this point, Sara. Sweating, crying, damn near shaking. He tells me he has PTSD and anxiety. I told him I knew what that felt like and it wouldn't change me liking him. Then that's when he tells me."

"...that he's a sociopathic serial killer?"

"What!?" Luis' eyebrows scrunched together. "No, he— where did you get that from?"

"Well, that last sentence made it all suspenseful and shit so I figured it was something super out there! Like some ID channel or Lifetime Movie Network shit." She shrugged her shoulders as she filled Luis' glass. With champagne. The action reminded Luis of Sara's many drinking rules: We don't do weak mimosas over here.

"He's not a murderer!" His glass was once again half empty. "At least, I don't think he is."

"So he told you he's been to prison but you didn't ask why?"