“Hey.” Miles stands on the porch. He’s wearing a white button-down shirt and holds a bouquet of lilies. “I’m not too early, am I?”

His eyes are wide as he glances into the house. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him nervous.

“You’re fine.” I glance back inside. There’s no doubt that the rest of my family is staring, waiting for me to move aside so they can get a good look at him. I step outside, pulling the door behind me so it’s open just a crack. Miles freezes, even as I lean forward. “You’re perfect. Don’t worry about it.”

No one should be able to see us on the porch, not if we make this quick. I kiss him softly, the flowers crinkling between us. He tastes like gravy. His hand is on my neck, stroking up and down. After that afternoon in his kitchen, I figured I’d calm down, but now I just want more. More of him on his knees and more time in his room and more time touching, long strokes and hazy eyes, figuring out what works and what doesn’t.

“I still can’t believe I get to do that,” I whisper, pulling away. He has a hickey from the last time we hung out. I pull up his collar, my hand lingering near his neck. “I really like kissing you.”

“Yeah, I guess kissing you isn’t so bad,” he says, making me shove him. His mouth twitches, eyes scanning my face. “Simone—”

“Get in here, you two!” Tía Camila calls. “We need you here for dessert!”

I sigh, gesturing for him to follow me. “Okay, you know my parents. My abuela talks all the time, so don’t bother trying to get a word in. Tía Camila is really posh, like Victoria Beckham, but less mean. My abuelo is who you have to watch out for, and maybe Dave.”

“That’s your brother?”

“Right.” I pat his shoulder. “You catch on fast.”

Inside, everyone has migrated into the living room, where all the photo albums are pulled out. The smell of coffee mixes with pecan, caramel, and apples. Tía Camila holds a plate of flan, smirking in my direction.

“You’re the boyfriend,” Dave deadpans.

Abuelo narrows his eyes.

“Uh, yeah.” Miles clears his throat. “I’m Miles Austin. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Are those flowers for us?” Dad asks, rising to his feet. He takes the bouquet, clapping Miles on the back. “That’s so thoughtful of you.”

“I hope you treat Simone well,” Abuelo says, stirring his cup of coffee. “I have many stories of what we used to do to Camila’s boyfriends when she was young.”

“Strung them up by their toes.” Tía Camila nods, tapping her fork against her plate. “Right up with the Mexican flag, so everyone in the neighborhood knew we meant business.”