He shrugged on his coat and winked at me as he walked out to the fifteen-year-old Sentra in the driveway. His pride and joy.
Emilio Decker radiated charm. Not to mention, he was smart and gorgeous. If I didn’t already love Arturo Decker with my whole heart, I might have considered crushing on his older brother instead.
I walked into the light-filled kitchen, which was decorated like the rest of the interior in varying shades of red, orange, and yellow. Marisol sat at the table, squeezing Hershey’s syrup into a glass of milk. It had been a while since she’d had any surgeries, and she appeared more energetic than usual. But even during these in-between times, her parents worried about her being outside too much and exposing herself to germs.
After washing my hands, I sat down with her while she swirled a spoon around her glass.
“Hi there, little miss. What should we do tonight?”
She grinned toothily. “Will you read to me?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Leaving her milk on the table, she went to her room to choose some books. Marisol always loved being read to. Now that shewas seven, she was also reading simple books on her own. I felt guilty about sometimes getting impatient while she sounded out her words. I had no idea how Rosa managed to help kids who struggled with their homework every day at the Center.
María and Michael rushed into the kitchen. He scooped up his keys and wallet, while she put on her earrings.
“Thank you, Cori, you’re a lifesaver,” María said. “We should be back before nine. Artie’s here now, but he’s leaving soon. There are enchiladas warming in the oven. Marisol should eat around six, and I’ll be disappointed if you don’t help yourself as well.”
I would have watched Marisol regardless, but Mamá Decker’s cooking was a nice perk. The most my mom ever did was boil noodles to eat with jarred spaghetti sauce.
The Deckers hurried through the back door. Michael called out, “Marisol, be good for Cori. Bye, Arturo. Be home by eleven.”
After they left, and with Marisol still hunting for books upstairs, I peeked into the living/dining room. I saw Deck hunched over the dining table, mumbling to himself. One of his pointer fingers moved back and forth across the page of an open textbook. His other arm hung by his side, gripping a pen.
Even agitated and annoyed, he was still the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen. I’d known him for almost four years, but now just looking at Deck made my heart beat faster. The change had happened so slowly I hadn't even noticed it at first. It was like one day I looked up and realized the boy I’d known forever was exactly the same person he’d always been, yet somehow, completely different.
From my place in the kitchen archway, I admired him. He had on beige chinos and a white tank top. The gold chain he always wore rested between his chest muscles. Evidently, the hours that he, Johnny, Cruz, and Eliazar spent lifting weights in his garagewere paying off. He’d slicked his hair back into a low ponytail, a style that highlighted his broad brown shoulders.
At school yesterday, I’d overheard one of the girls in my eighth-grade class talking about him.
“You remember Artie Decker? I saw him skating at the park this weekend. Damn, that boy has gotten fine as fuck since starting high school. Imma shoot my shot next year when we’re back in the same building.”
While her friends laughed, I’d frowned at the reminder Deck would never look at me like I looked at him. The hot girls wanted him. He was beautiful and mysterious and sexy, and I was…his best friend’s little sister.
Still, he was always nice to me, and I spent a lot of time with him, even if it was mostly because of Johnny. Deck might notnoticeme the way I wanted him to, but he’d never made me feel invisible.
I was busy checking out the definition in his biceps when he groaned in frustration. “Fuck!” he shouted, slamming the textbook shut. “Fucking shit assignment.”
I backed away before he could see me.
Retreating into the kitchen, I intercepted Marisol carrying a stack of books from her room.
“Should we sit on the couch?” she asked.
“Actually, I think here is good. We don’t want to disturb your brother while he’s doing homework.”
But then Deck came tearing through the kitchen, heading toward the back door. He stopped short when he saw me.
“Oh, hey, Cori. Mamá told me you were coming.” He brushed his hands across his thighs before running both hands over his slick hair. “How’d the essay turn out?”
Deck also knew I was studyingBrave New World. We’d talked about it at the Center when he came to meet up with Eliazar the other day.
“Okay, I think. It was nice of you to listen to me about it.”
“No worries. I had to read that book in eighth, too, but I didn’t really get it. You should have been my teacher.” He waggled his eyebrows.
My cheeks heated. “Thanks."
