Mo shrugged. “Sounded cool when Murray and I thought of it when we were fifteen. I’m up for a name change. Got any ideas?”
“We need something edgier, but simple,” I said.
Diego hummed and cleared his throat. I met his eyes, and the disappointment there was unmistakable. “Unrequited.”
“Unrequited?” Murray cocked his head.
“Yeah. Unrequited. When you hear that word, doesn’t it make you feel?” Diego asked. “It’s easy as hell to remember. Everyone’s experienced it.”
“Unrequited.” Mo tried it out, saying it a few times. “We’re Unrequited, and we’re here to rock you.”
Murray snorted, shaking his head. “The name is good, the intro needs help.”
“I think we have a name,” I said.
Later, when I had a chance to get Diego alone, I asked him about Maeve.
“Nah, she’s not into me. She was real nice about it, even gave me a hug, which honestly made it that much worse since she felt so damn good in my arms. It’s better this way, isn’t it? We’re leaving, can’t take her with me.”
He said all the right words, but the kid had never looked more glum. I was sorry for him, but this black, black part of my heart danced a celebratory jig at Maeve not returning his affection.
Patting him on his shoulder, I agreed with him. “Yeah, it’s better this way.”
Maeve
Mo and Yael were having one final party. She was leaving for college soon, and Mo was moving out. The summer was nearly over, and my stomach twisted with nerves and sadness. An era was ending. No matter where I went after tonight, we’d never have this again, the simplicity of this summer.
Crickets chirped, and the fire in the pit next to their pool snapped and popped. Shadows danced over familiar faces, making it hard to find the man I was looking for.
This was my last chance to be brave. I’d let myself fall a little bit in love with Santiago Garza, and if I left here tonight without telling him, I’d always regret it.
I grabbed Yael’s hand, pulling her away from some guy in a pink Polo who looked like he should’ve been named Winston or Lowell.
“Have you seen Santi?” I asked.
“Why?”
“I need to talk to him about...drummin’ things.”
“Really?” She cocked her hip, staring me down.
“Really. I don’t know if I’ll have another chance.”
She didn’t believe me, but she pointed me toward the house, saying she’d seen him walking up that way a few minutes ago.
I found him in the formal living room, all alone, sitting on the cream couch like he was afraid he’d ruin it at any moment. To be honest, I didn’t think anyone other than the cleaning lady ever went in that room. Santi could probably destroy it, and no one would notice.
“Hey.” I leaned against the entry to the room, doing my best to look desirable in my yellow sundress and flip flops. “You lookin’ to be alone?”
He shook his head, patting the cushion beside him. “Nope. Just contemplating how rich someone has to be to have an entire room that has absolutely no use.”
I sat down beside him, leaving half a cushion between us. Santi no longer made me nervous. He should have, with his rough exterior, his age, how incredibly attractive he was. But he was gentle and kind along with being strong and hard. He didn’t hide his softness. It wasn’t a weakness for a man like him, who had the iron core to back up his soft outer layer.
He’d tear down mountains for those he cared about, then cradle them in his arms and whisper the words they needed to hear.
At least that was what I imagined he’d do.
“I’d hate for you to see my house. It’s the picture of wastefulness. We could fit a couple other families in there with us and not feel the squeeze.”