Their Broken Pieces by Jessica Gomez

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Alex

 

 

Fuck, Jasmine tasted good. Which is exactly what I spouted while I was between her legs, reciting the alphabet like a spelling bee champ. Never in my wildest did I imagine being here with Jasmine, not only intimately, but in a paradise like Hawaii. A place like this can give you false hope, forget your obstacles, and wishing for a future together.

Last night, sleeping with Jasmine in my arms was the best night of my life. My heart slams against my chest when I kiss her, touch her… but I have to face reality. This is only temporary. I can protect her, but it has to end there. My mom had warned me to stay away from her, that her mom was capable of anything, and she was right. I did that to Jasmine. I pushed her to see me, to talk to me. I need to keep her safe from her mom and my gang. If my rivals knew about her, how important she is to me, they’ll use her as bait, torture her for information, even though she knows nothing about my gang. The only way I can protect her from these people is to cut her out of my life. If I stay away, no one will bother her; she could live a good life.

But I’m being selfish. I want her, I want to be around her, and I’d go batshit crazy if I had to watch her date someone else. Mierda! There’s no way I could stand by and watch another guy touch her, because there’s no telling what I’d do.

Shaking my head, I try to loosen these crazy ideas of killing people if they touched Jasmine out of my mind. “Get a hold of yourself, Alex.”

I hesitate at the door. Do I knock? Fuck no, I don’t knock! Gang bangers don’t knock. Everything I do is trouble. Instead, I insert the key and walk right in. By the sounds of it, no one hears me. Noises I’d much rather not hear are coming from the two forms on the bed. I can make out Molly because she’s riding whoever is underneath her. The guy is way too into it, moaning and groaning more than any man should.

When I walk into the room and cough, drawing their attention, I finally see the person underneath her, and it’s Andrew.

My eyes blaze with anger. The pits of hell are no doubt reflecting. “You,” I growl and walk straight to the bed, throwing Molly off it to get to Andrew.

He’s scrambling up the headboard, trying to get away. His eyes are wild, like a deer caught in headlights. His package instantly deflates. Not that it’s anything to brag about to begin with… sad, really.

“What did I do to you, man?” His arms are in front of him, protecting his face, knowing my fist is about to make a connection.

My voice is level but deadly. “Not me, pendejo… Jasmine. Ring any bells?”

Andrew’s eyes go wider, remembering the previous night’s events. “I didn’t… I mean…” Words evade him. “I was only playing with her.”

His words command my fist to punch his face, twice, in rapid succession, bloodying his nose. I hear a high-pitched yelp behind me and remember that Molly’s still in the room. I glance between them and see that they deserve each other; a perfect match.

“You!” I point to Andrew, who is covering his face, trying unsuccessfully to stop the blood from hitting the bedding. “Stay the fuck away from Jasmine. Don’t even look in her direction. If I hear you do, this will be horseplay compared to what I’ll do to you next time.” I turn to look at Molly. “And you.” She flinches when I point to her, covering herself with a sheet. “You didn’t see any of this. Do you understand?” She nods, visibly scared. “Jasmine will not be staying here for the rest of her visit, and your room assignment is void for this trip,” I tell Andrew. “It seems you two make excellent roommates. Make sure no one finds out about this either. Do you understand?” I repeat. This time, they both nod like bobbleheads. “Good,” I say, and then turn to pack Jasmine’s things.

“Here.” Andrew hands over a bikini top. I look at it and then at him. “It’s Jasmines. She left it behind last night. She just bought it, so I wanted to make sure she got it back.”

Without another word, I snag the top and finish packing her stuff. Then look around the room, making sure I grabbed everything of Jasmines when Molly stands. She’s put a robe on, thank fuck. She may be good looking on the outside, but she’s a total haughty bitch, and I feel repulsed at the glimpse I caught of her earlier.

“Her toiletries are in the bathroom. They’re the ones on the left.”

Jasmine’s stuff is neatly organized in the bathroom. The toothbrush, comb, and brush, shampoo, and conditioner all lined up in total Jasmine style. This stuff’s personal, another intimate glance of who she is, and it’s warming my insides. Soon her things will be in my bathroom, next to mine.

Collecting myself before exiting the bathroom, I turn to the two douches on the bed one more time. They’ve both taken up residency on the edge, as if waiting to be addressed. “Remember what I said. I’d hate for anything to happen to either of you.” I shrug. It’d actually make my day if something happen to Andrew. Molly, well, she’s already doing enough damage to herself.

They both nod wordlessly, seeming to have received the message.

When I reenter my room, I hear the shower and water running off Jasmine. My body instantly responds, trying to lead me to the slightly ajar door, Jasmine’s silent invitation. Less than one week is all I have with her. I can’t go in there because I know there’s a good chance I’ll take her virginity in the shower. As much as she might want it, or think she wants it, I know I’ll have to cut ties when we return home. The only way to keep her safe is to distance myself. My heart aches and constricts at the thought of pushing her away, of not having her in my life. But knowing she’s safe is worth any sacrifice, even if it is our relationship. No price is too high when it comes to her safety.

I’m still standing motionless in front of the bathroom door when the water shuts off and the curtain slides open. My instinct is to move—avoid detection—but I like the sound of her toweling off. The thought of her naked body only a room away, a room that is not even properly sealed, does wild things to my body.

“Alex?” she calls out.

“Yeah.”

“Did you get my stuff?” I can hear her drying off.

“Yeah.” I’m full of cool things to say.

“Are you all right?” She opens the door, holding the towel so it drapes down the front of her body, covering the peaks of her breasts and other sweet places, but doing nothing for her luscious hips, thighs, and legs that are hanging out on either side.

A drunken fool has taken up residency, slacking my jaw, numbing the appendages—except one—and melting the chocolate of my eyes with her natural beauty, leaving me completely unaware when her eyes go wide with worry.

“Alex! What happened to your hand?” She rushes forward, barely remembering to hold on to her towel as she cradles the bleeding knuckles.

Damn.

“Nothing’s wrong with me.” The words sound like auto pilot as I continue to stare, soaking in every detail, saving them to a special place for alone time in the shower. The next blink drops reality back in my lap, la-la land slowly fading, slapping reality back to the forefront. She holds my mangled hand close, glaring incredulously. “Oh, that’s what happens when you punch people in the face.” The busted hand has long since been forgotten, seemingly the moment I walked back into this room, and she slipped naked from the shower. My heavy-lidded gaze travels the length of her several times, not caring to pay my busted hand any attention.

“That was last night. I don’t remember seeing it looking like this, and there’s fresh blood, too. What happened?”

She glares, daring me to avoid the question, as if in trouble. The action pulls a chuckle, picturing a gang banger like me getting in trouble from a tiny female like Jasmine, plasters a permanent smile on my lips. “A run-in with Andrew… in your room.”

“What! Was he waiting for me?” She’s fiery, as if she wouldn’t mind kicking his ass again. Pride swells, pounding against my ribcage, ready to yank her against me and prove my devotion, but I already took care of that when I punched him in the face.

“No. At least, I don’t think so.” A smirk tips my lips. “He was fucking Molly.” Her face falls flat, as if upset. Not the reaction I expected. “What’s wrong? Isn’t it nice not to have to worry about him anymore?”

“It is nice. It’s just… I wish he had liked me, instead of only wanting to get into my pants.”

“He’s not worth your time, Jaz. You’re too good for him. He and Molly are perfect for each other.” She points her sad smile at me and nods. Seeing her worry about Andrew’s feelings drives me crazy. “Besides, you have me.” Until we leave Hawaii. The silent thought sits heavily in my gut while guilt clenches my heart.

Her eyes grow even sadder. “Do I?” she counters. “Do I really have you, Alex?”

She sees right through the statement, knowing our time is limited, that I’m planning to end this when we leave. Damn, she’s good. How would I explain to her it’s the only way to keep her safe from her mom… from me? But voicing our situation is like peeling glued lips apart, going to rip and burn, tearing sensitive skin until it bleeds.

“Are those my clothes?” She changes the subject, leaving our troubles for another day. We both play the same game. We know where this is heading, whether we want it to or not. Our beginning always had an ending attached.

“Sí.” Handing her the bag filled with her things, she walks back into the bathroom, closing the door; rescinding the invitation that she offered earlier.