After I tackle him onto his back so I can straddle him, I grind my hips to his groin. We still have some time before we have to go to the restaurant. I dip my head and dive down for a kiss. Then I trail my lips to his tattoo and kiss it too.
“What is it?” he asks again, watching me with awe, his erection starting to harden with my attention.
I smile against his skin and peer up at him to watch his reaction. “I hate peanut butter.”
* * *
When we gettoMariscos Elena, it’s Fernanda we see first. She’s walking out from the back, a tray of pre-wrapped silverware in her hands. She smiles up at me and says hello. She’s about to ask who is with me when she does a double-take and drops the tray.
It lands heavily on her foot. “Ouch!” Fernanda howls with pain.
“Are you okay?” Karl asks, moving to help her, but she raises her hands so he’ll stop.
“You know Karl Sommer, and you forgot to tell me?” she says in Spanish. I ask her to keep it in English for him, and she just scowls at me.
“I may have failed to tell you we dated before my move,” I say sheepishly. Fernanda won’t forgive me for this, but really, what was I going to say? I was in love with a rock star, and I left with his prize guitar? I wouldn’t believe it if someone told me that story. “And we’re back together,” I add.
She blinks between us. “You’re dating Karl Sommer?” she asks, not believing me.
“Just Karl, please.” He steps in to offer his hand. “Are you okay? That looked painful.”
Fernanda blushes and shakes her head. “I’m fine, thank you.” Then Fernanda turns to me. “Does Elena know?”
I wince. “No. Now that we’re back together, and it’s getting serious—”
“Serious?” Fernanda’s eyes widen with panic. “Yesterday, all we knew about was Ethan, and now you’re serious with the world’s—” Fernanda stops herself, embarrassed. “Best guitarist,” she adds.
I try not to chuckle and embarrass her further. I remember what it was like that first time I met Bren at Sofia’s, and I would not have appreciated someone poking fun at my ruffled feathers.
TíaElena barges through the door. “What’s all the noise?” she asks.
“I dropped a tray,” Fernanda says.
Elena’s eyes fly to Karl, then to me, then to our interlaced hands. “Who’s this?” she asks, her face stony and unwelcoming, her hands firmly at her hips.
“Tía, this is my boyfriend, Karl,” I say in English I know she understands even if she won’t admit it. “Karl, this is mytíaElena.”
“Es un placer,” he says in Spanish, surprising all three of us. And I won’t lie, hearing him speak Spanish melts my knees a little.
“Es Karl Sommer,” Fernanda says near my aunt’s ear. “DeIndustrial November,” she says, annoyed when there’s no recognition in Elena’s gaze.
“From what?”
“The band!Industrial November!” Fernanda’s arms are flailing now.
“¡Ay! You and your rock music. You.” She points to Karl, then me. “Sit over there. We’re going to talk.” She’s completely unfazed by his presence, and I can tell Karl is amused.
Karl squeezes my hand reassuringly like he’s done this before, even though we both know he hasn’t. But somehow, his stoic composure is comforting. He may never have found himself in this situation before, but he sure as hell planned for it.
“So this is serious?” Elena asks, not pulling any punches, and I find myself translating one way when Karl needs it.
He wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Yes. I love Lola. Very much. It’s serious.”
“And you’re in a band?”
“I am.”
“I don’t like this,” she says, her mouth twisted into a frown.