So many snarky comments sit on the tip of my tongue. Like, yes it would be nice if you’d spent time with him… the past three years. And, while you’re not busy? How selfless of you. But I bite them back as Christian comes racing out of his room.

“Let me think about it. He’s got preschool and soccer. We have a routine here.” I grab my backpack, tell Christian to have fun with his dad and squeeze him hard. “I’ll be back by two.”

At the library, I snag a table on the second floor in a back corner that gives me a view of the stairs. I’m hopeful with my vantage point I will see him before he sees me. With Joel, I’ll take any advantage I can get. The guy seriously throws me off kilter. I’m nervous for a study session which is ridiculous, but there it is.

I pull out my notebook and laptop and get lost in the world of Hector and Imelda. I’m chewing on the end of my pen cap, imagining a scene in my head when he drops into the chair in front of me. So much for my advantage. I startle and he grins.

“Writing more stories about me?”

I was, in fact, imagining him as Hector, but like I’d give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“No. Far more interesting heroes.”

He glances at my notebook. “What are you working on?”

“The play I told you about. I’m still working on some dialogue. I’d love to get your feedback when it’s ready, but for now, maybe it’d be more useful if I asked the questions I prepared?” I ramble, so nervous the words spill together, and Joel looks at me like he’s utterly confused.

10

JOEL

“You said your mother came to the United States after high school. What made her decide to leave Mexico?”

I stare at Katrina for a solid five seconds without comprehending the words that have come out of her mouth. For starters, when did I tell her about my mom coming from Mexico after high school? And then the obvious follow-ups like why the hell does she want to know personal information about my family? I thought this was about a school paper.

I’m not proud that my first thought goes to her selling information about me to some tabloid or maybe she’s started her own blog on my awful pickup lines, but her followers got bored and now want more juicy details.

“I’m sorry, what does this have to do with my helping you?”

She stares back blankly before responding. “Everything.”

Her gaze narrows while I continue to grapple for what the fuck is going on. I think back to the other night. It’s blurry, but okay yeah, I broke out the Spanish and I vaguely remember her wanting to know more about my parents and their immigrating to the US, but I thought this deal was just a charade. I’d pretend to help her for an hour or two and then I’d convince her to come home with me. Is she seriously expecting me to help her with Spanish?