• Chapter 2
    Hector. I still cant say his real name without flinching, so he gets a fake name. I wish it was different. I wish it had ended differently. I wish he had been different. I wish a lot of things, and I wish for a lot of difference. The past is the past though, and tomorrow is tomorrow.
    He and I sat across from each other, a styrofoam cup of some of the most watered down, hottest hot chocolate in the world, clutched in our hands like it would save the world, or at least keep our fingers from freezing off. Rain pattered against the window and the tv hanging on the opposite wall broadcasted something about a new movie that looked moronic. Not many kids were in here today, most of them choosing to go straight home instead of walking the few hundred feet to the pizza place across the street. I sipped nervously at my hot chocolate, squeaking when it burnt my tongue. Hector turned his attention to me, lips turned up in a smirk and his eyes lit up with amusement. I giggled and felt heat rising in my face. I looked away nervously towards the window, watching the rivulets of rain stream down.
    "Careful it's hot," he said casually. I blinked back at him and smiled shyly, still blushing. "Would you like me to get some ice for that?" he pushed his chair back to stand up.
    I nodded. "Please?"
    He smiled and I felt butterflies do flips in my stomach. I passed him my sorry excuse for hot chocolate and watched him walk to the soda machine. He wasn't the cutest of guys. I sat next to the cutest of guys in Spanish. No, he was short and rather average in the looks department. He made me feel beautiful though, and with how home was right now that was exactly what I needed. He turned back, both of our cups with a good layer of ice in them.
    "You know it's only going to make it more watered down right?" I took my cup back when he held it out.
    "I know, but it's either that or wait an hour before drinking it," he smiled at me over the rim of his cup before taking a swig. He flinched and set his cup back down on the table. The same reaction I had when I was still trying to impress him.
    "Hey be careful, it's hot," I laughed and blew gently on my own drink.
    "Oh really? I'll keep that in mind," his bitter tone was softened by the sparkle in his eyes.
    I looked back outside and could see his eyes, still focused on me, out of the corner of my own. They were nearly black in this light. They were the type of brown that changed in different lights to incorporate every shade from gold to chocolate to black. I thought they were beautiful.
    "I've been sitting down all day. Let's go for a walk."
    I looked over at him, wondering if he had read my mind. I loved weather like this. The day I had met him it had been raining like this and I had danced in it. He let me borrow his jacket. I grinned at him.
    "Sure."
    We stood. I was still wearing his jacket. He had refused to take it back when I offered it back to him. It had been raining too hard, he said. I had my own jacket of course. I didn't tell him that though. Keeping his jacket gave me an excuse to talk to him every day.
    I stood, sipped at my hot chocolate, grimaced, and dumped it in the trash on our way out the door. He laughed and did the same. It was disgusting, but as soon as I stepped outside I regretted the decision. It was freezing, the end of November and raining, the closest to winter that it got in Arizona, and the cold nipped at my finger tips. I shoved my hands in the soft pockets of his jacket. He saw it and smirked, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt. It was the blue and white plaid button up. I loved it. He reached into the pocket and grabbed my hand.
    "Good God woman, why are you so cold?" he exclaimed, a smile on his lips and a laugh in his eyes. I blushed, but clutched his hand. He often did this, holding my hand with the excuse of warming it up.
    He grinned at me and we set off, walking along the strip of food and cheap stores that made up the street opposite of the school. We never stopped at any of the stores, neither of us had money. We just walked and talked. I barely kept track of the conversation. Most of it was just filling each other in on our lives outside of these hour long meetings. It was a lot of life, but most of it went unspoken. Neither of us wanted to go into the gory details of home. That would just be too much. It was mostly discussions about school or the generalities of our home lives. At some point, we were walking by the school on our third circle of the block, I realized my hands had stopped being cold a while ago.
    "You know... my hands usually stop being cold before you let go of them," I said in one of the peaceful lulls in our conversation. The breaks in our conversation were never awkward. Just quiet.
    "I know. I keep holding them anyways."
    I blinked back at him surprised. It was the perfect reply and he said it without missing a beat.
    "Talk about cheesy," I chuckled, but I looked at him with respect. He lifted an eyebrow, smiled and raised my hand to his lips.
    I blinked in shock and then laughed. "You, sir, are very, very, odd."
    He nodded, a wicked grin on his face.