“You shouldn’t call women bitches,” I whispered.
His body shook with his chuckles, shaking me with it.
It felt beautiful.
I kept whispering when I remarked, “I’m making you happy.”
I felt his word stir the top of my hair when he replied, “Yeah.”
I closed my eyes.
Now that felt good.
“We need to get on our way, baby,” he said into my hair. “Give me a kiss.”
I took in a deep breath before I tipped my head back and rolled up on my toes.
Then I gave him a kiss. It was wet and sweet and I knew I was going to remember it my whole life.
When Deacon broke it off, I put in some earrings, clasped on a necklace, slid on a couple of rings, and donned my flip-flops.
After that, Deacon took my hand and off we went to have dinner with my friends.
* * * * *
“Do you play football?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“Do you?”
“Not yet. Papá says I can do Junior Football League next year.”
“What position you want?”
“Quarterback.”
“Nice.”
I sat next to Deacon on Milagros and Manuel’s couch, watching this exchange between him and Esteban, thinking he actually was the Supreme Leader of the Badasses. This was mostly because, when we arrived fifteen minutes ago, Esteban started his inquisition and hadn’t let up and Deacon had answered every question, but half of them he answered without answering.
“Cállate, Estito, with you asking so many questions, Señor Priest hasn’t even been able to take a sip from his beer,” Silvia remonstrated.
She wasn’t wrong.
“Be nice, mija,” Manuel gently rebuked.
Her cheeks got pink, her eyes skittered to Deacon, they got pinker, and she looked to her lap.
Silvia had a crush on my man.
Not surprising.
“John,” Deacon’s deep voice filled the room and Silvia looked back to him. “Your parents are okay with it, girl, you can call me John.”
Slivia’s eyes went to her dad. So did mine. Manuel smiled and dipped his chin down.