With the Fire on High by Elizabeth Acevedo
Smooch
His lips are soft. I’d forgotten how soft lips can be. It’s been a long time since I kissed someone. His hands tighten in my jacket but other than that he’s still. I step in closer, angle my head, move my hands to the back of his neck, and pull his face closer. He opens his mouth, and I bite on his bottom lip, then I’m not thinking, I’m not planning the next step. His hand moves down to my butt and curves around it.
A wolf whistle breaks through the sound of my heartbeat and heavy breathing. “¡Pero mira eso!” A drunk couple hoots and hollers at us.
“C’mon.” Malachi grabs my hand and we walk back to the street we came from. He stops and pulls me toward him. Then he’s kissing me again. And I can’t think because his hands move up and down my coat and the back of my jeans, and he smells so good. And I can’t remember Tyrone ever touching me like this, like this body was a dream he was afraid to wake up from.
“Santi, you blushing? I make you shy or something?” he says, and hugs me to him. “Santi, what am I supposed to do with you?”
I snuggle into his sweater. “Nothing. We should just enjoy it. We’re in goddamn Europe, across the world; no one needs us right now. We should just . . .” I shrug. “Be.”
“And when we get back?”
I think about Babygirl. How I wake up every day expecting to see her crib and how it clogs my throat with tears not to be near her. How I miss ’Buela’s shuffling slippers, and her yelling directions at the Eagles’ quarterback. How I need to find a new job and figure out what I’m going to major in if I’m accepted into college. My life when I get back is full of people I love and the responsibilities I have. And I love them, and miss them, but I also want to hold this feeling of freedom tight in my fist, because it has wings and I know as soon as I loosen my grip it will fly straight away. “We figure it out then.”
He gives me a long look. “All right, Santi. I’m following you. Where we going next?”
And it seems like he means in terms of directions, but I know he also means in terms of us. Even though it’s a Wednesday night, two bars and one club are blaring music from across the street. I point.
Malachi raises an eyebrow and squeezes my hand.