Rules Of Attraction (20 page)

“Us. I’d like us to hang out more.”

He cocks a brow. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Are we gonna shake on it?”

“My hands are kind of busy at the moment,” I tell him.

He smiles, that cocky smile that’s so a part of him he wouldn’t be

Carlos without it. “Your hands might be busy, but your lips aren’t.”

THIRTY-THREE :
Carlos

Most mornings, I’m awakened by Brandon’s voice singing one of his

usual songs, which gets stuck in my head—‘Good morning to you, good

morning to you. We’re all in our places with bright shining faces. And

this is the way, we start a new day!’ It could drive anyone insane. No,

today it’s not Kiara’s little brother who wakes me up. It’s Tuck’s voice

bellowing in the hallway. “La cucaracha, la cucaracha, ya no puede

caminar, porque no tiene, porque le falta, I don’t know the rest la la la

la!”

And while Brandon doesn’t mean to annoy me, Tuck’s reason for

living might just be to piss me off.

“Don’t you ever shut up?” I yell, hoping he can hear me out in the

hallway.

“Hey, amigo,” Tuck says, opening the door. “Rise and shine!”

I pick up my head. “Didn’t I lock the door to keep people like you

out?”

He holds up a bent paper clip and wiggles it. “Yep. Lucky for me I

know how to use the magic door-opener.”

“Get out.”

“I need your help, amigo.”

“No. Get out.”

“Do you hate me so much because Kiara likes me better than you?”

“Not for long. Get the fuck out. Now,” I tell him. The guy doesn’t

move.

“Okay, seriously, I don’t know if this is true or not, but I heard

people who use profanity are trying to compensate for their lack of,

you know, size.”

I whip off the covers and jump out of bed and chase him into the

hallway, but he’s gone. Kiara’s door is suspiciously open. “Where is he?”

I ask her.

“Um . . . ,” she says.

I scan her room, then open her closet door. Sure enough, Tuck is

standing inside. “I was just kidding. Can’t you take a joke, man?” he

says.

“Not at seven in the mornin’.”

He laughs. “Put some clothes on so you don’t scare poor Kiara with

your morning hard-on.”

I look down at my shorts. Sure enough, I’ve got la tengo dura in

front of Kiara and Tuck. Shit. I reach out for the first thing I can

grab and put it in front of me to shield myself from view. It happens to

be one of Kiara’s stuffed animals, but I don’t have much choice right

now.

“That’s Kiara’s Mojo,” Tuck says, laughing. “Get it? Mojo?”

Without a word, I rush back to my room and toss Mojo on the

floor. Knowing Kiara, she’ll probably make me buy her a new stuffed

animal.

I sit on my bed, wondering how I’m going to get closer to Kiara with

Tuck in the picture, and wondering why I even want to. I like kissin’

her, that’s all. A knock at my door interrupts my thoughts.

“What do you want?” I say, the words coming out as a growl.

“It’s Kiara.”

“. . . and Tuck,” comes another voice.

I open the door. “He wants to apologize,” Kiara says.

“I am very sorry I opened your door without permission,” Tuck says

as if he’s a little kid sent to apologize by his mother. “I promise not to

do it ever again. Please forgive me.”

“Fine.” I start to close the door, but Kiara puts her palm on it.

“Wait. Tuck really does need your help, Carlos.”

“With what?”

“My Ultimate team only has six players and we need seven. We have

three people out with the flu, and two more got hurt in the

quarterfinals and can’t play. Kiara thinks you’d be halfway decent.”

Halfway decent? “Why don’t you play?” I ask Kiara. “You’re

athletic.”

“It’s not a coed team,” she tells me. “It’s an all-male team.”

Tuck holds his palms together in a praying position, and I can just

sense the bullshit about to fly. “Please, amigo. We need you, Kimosabe,

O Mighty Powerful One. We need you more than the earth rises in the

west.”

“The sun rises in the east, dickhead.”

“Only if you’re standing on the earth. If you’re on the moon, the

earth rises in the west.” He takes a deep breath. “All right, I’m done

sucking up. You in or out? The game starts in less than a half hour and

I need to know if we have to forfeit or not. Unfortunately, you’re

probably our only hope.”

I look at Kiara.

“Tuck really needs your help,” she says. “I’ll come watch.”

“Fine, I’ll do it. I’ll do it for you,” I tell her.

“Wait, what . . . what is he talking about that he’ll do it for you?”

Tuck looks from me to Kiara, but neither of us say a word. “Is anyone

going to tell me what’s going on here?”

“Nope. Give me five minutes,” I tell them.

On the drive to the game, Kiara insists I call my brother and ask

him to come to the game.

“Just call him,” she says. “Or I will.”

“Maybe I don’t want him there.”

She holds out her cell. “Maybe you want him there so bad, but

you’re too stubborn to admit it. I dare you.”

Now why did she have to go and do that?

I grab the phone out of her hand and call my brother. I tell him

about the game, and without hesitation he says he’ll be there.

After I hang up and toss the cell back to Kiara, Tuck goes over the

rules with me. I focus on the important ones: once I catch the Frisbee

I have to stop and throw it to another teammate within ten seconds.

“This isn’t a contact sport, Carlos,” Tuck reminds me for the, like,

tenth time. “So if you feel like punching, pushing, or fighting with

someone, make sure it’s after the game.”

On the field, Tuck introduces me to our team. A thought keeps

running through my head: if I help Tuck’s team win, will Kiara think I’m

a hero?

I’m practicing with the guys in the minutes before the game. Even

though I haven’t thrown a disc in a few years, I have no problem makin’

it sail through the air to my teammate. One of the guys on my team

runs past me, winks at me, then smacks me on the ass. What the hell

was that, some sort of Ultimate ritual? I don’t do rituals that involve

other guys’ hands on my ass.

I walk over to Tuck, who’s stretching out on the sidelines. “Am I

delusional, or was that guy hitting on me?”

“His name’s Larry. Don’t ask me why, but he thinks you’re hot. He

hasn’t stopped drooling since you got here. Just don’t lead him on.”

“Don’t worry.”

“Here.” Tuck reaches into his duffel and tosses me a shirt. “It’s our

team uniform.”

I hold it out in front of me. “It’s pink.”

“You got something against pink?”

“Yeah. It’s gay.”

Tuck smacks his lips together. “Um, yeah. Carlos, now’s probably a

good time for me to tell you something. You’re probably not gonna like

it.”

As Tuck talks, I take close inventory of my teammates. Dennis, a

guy who looks mighty feminine. The guy who hit me on the ass is now

biting on his lower lip as if he wants to get with me. And the pink shirts

. . . “This is a team of gay dudes, isn’t it?”

“What gave it away? The pink shirts, or half our team drooling over

you?”

I shove the shirt back in his hands. “I’m not doin’ this.”

“Calm down, Carlos. Playing on a team with gays doesn’t make you

gay. Don’t be a homophobe. That’s so un-PC.”

“Ask me if I’ve ever given a shit about bein’ PC?”

“Think of all the fans you’ll disappoint. Kiara . . . and your brother.”

I don’t know if my brother is laughing or cringing: all I know is that

he’s givin’ me a thumbsup from the bleachers. Brittany has suddenly

shown up here, too. Kiara and Brittany have their heads huddled

together, deep in conversation.

I know I shouldn’t ask this, but I can’t help it. “What’s the name of

our team?”

“Ultimate Queers,” Tuck says, then starts laughing.

I, on the other hand, am not laughin’.

“What, you don’t like our team name? You’re one of us now, Carlos.”

I’m still not laughin’.

He catches a practice toss from one of the other guys, then tosses

it back. “Oh, and just so you know, before we go out on the field we all

get in a huddle and yell ‘Go Queers!’ really loud.”

That’s it. “I’m quittin’.”

I start walking off the field. If anyone back home saw me, my ass

would be kicked from Atencingo to Acapulco and back again.

“I’m just kidding, man,” Tuck calls after me.

I stop.

“And our name isn’t Ultimate Queers.” He holds his hands up in

surrender. “Okay, okay, truth is we don’t yell ‘Go Queers,’ although Joe

over there with the spiked hair suggested it at the beginning of the

season. Our team name is The Ultimates. We couldn’t come up with a

cool name, so Larry came up with The Ultimates and that’s what we’ve

been ever since. Happy now?”

I shake my head and grab the shirt back. “You so owe me for this,”

I say as I pull my T-shirt over my head and exchange it for the pink

one.

“I know. Name your price, amigo.”

“I will. Later.” I gaze over at Kiara in the stands. “Has Kiara ever

had a boyfriend?”

He taps his chin with his index finger. “Did she tell you about

Michael?”

“Who’s Michael?” I ask.

“The guy Kiara dated over the summer.”

She’s never mentioned the guy. “How serious was it?”

Tuck grins wide. “My, my, aren’t we curious.”

“Answer the question.”

“He told her he loved her, then he text-dumped her.”

“What a dick.”

“Exactly.” Tuck points to the other side of the field where the

opposing team is practicing.

“He’s the tall guy picking up his water bottle right over there, with

the last name of Barra on his shirt.”

“That guy with the green bandanna?”

“Yep, that’s the one,” Tuck says. “Michael Barra, the text-dumper.”

“Is he bald?”

“No, Barra protects his precious hair so it doesn’t get messy when

he plays.” Tuck puts his hand on my chest to get my attention. “But

remember what I told you in the car on the way over here when I

explained the rules. This is a no-contact sport, Carlos. We get

penalized for unnecessary roughness.”

“Uh-huh.” In the opposite end zone I watch Kiara’s ex as he tosses

his water bottle toward the sideline after taking a swig and doesn’t

give a damn that it almost hits one of the spectator’s dogs. I hate that

guy and I’ve never even met him.

When the game starts, Dennis throws his arm back and whips the

disc across the field to our opponents. The game is going fine until one

of the guys on the other team mumbles a fag comment when I

intercept his throw. The blood in my veins fires up in the same way it

does when I’ve been called a dirty Mexican.

I’m competitive, tough, and I’m ready to kick some Ultimate ass. I

wonder if now is a good time to let Tuck know he should expect some

very necessary roughness coming from one very fired-up Mexicano.

THIRTY-FOUR :
Kiara

It’s weird seeing Michael again. I knew he’d be here, but I didn’t

know how I’d feel about seeing him again after our breakup. I thought

I’d still feel at least a little spark or remember why I started dating

him, but I look over at him and feel absolutely nothing. I have

definitely moved on. The problem is that the person I’m falling for

hard and fast doesn’t want more than a fling. I don’t want a fling with

Carlos. I’ll go along with pretending this thing between us is temporary

and casual, but every time we’re together it feels too right to be

temporary or casual.

I find myself daydreaming about him when I wake up in the

morning, in school when something reminds me of him, and when I fall

asleep at night. Even when Michael and I were dating, just thinking

about him didn’t brighten my day as much as thoughts of Carlos do.

While he does his best to be a jerk, every day I get glimpses of the

true Carlos. When he’s playing with my brother, I see a soft side he

doesn’t show the rest of the world. When he’s joking around with me,

his playful side comes out. When he kisses me, I sense his desperate

need for affection. When he’s cooking Mexican dishes or inserting

Spanish into his English, his loyalty to his heritage and culture comes

shining out of him like a beam of light. I know the great things about

Carlos and why I’m feeling attached to him like I’ve never felt with

anyone else before. But he hasn’t given me glimpses into his dark side,

the side that makes him angry and jealous and beaten down. And I know

it’s that part of him that won’t let him get emotionally involved.

I watch as the teams line up in each of their end zones and Tuck’s

team tosses the disc in play. Michael is the first to run out and catch

it, then quickly aims for another player on his team. The problem is

that Carlos is there to intercept the disc almost the second it leaves

Michael’s hands.

In the first two minutes of the game, The Ultimates have scored.

Tuck gives Carlos a high five. I have to admit it’s nice seeing them

celebrating instead of arguing.

“Carlos is really good,” Brittany says to both Alex and me.

“He’s a Fuentes, of course he’s good,” Alex says proudly.