Chapter 7: Push and Pull

Dance First

We danced in his living room. Not like it was planned—Eli just started playing a track I liked, and my hips remembered the beat before I did.

“Don’t make it weird,” I said, already moving.

He chuckled and held up his hands. “No argument here.”

The floor was too small, the couch too close, but it didn’t matter. I twirled past him, barefoot in my leggings and cropped tee, and every time we brushed shoulders, something sparked.

He wasn’t a dancer. But he watched. Closely.

“Turn,” he said, low and playful.

I did, letting my hair whip. His eyes followed me, and for a second, I forgot why I was pretending to keep this platonic.

Then Spar

Outside, under the soft porch light, we started stretching. It was ritual by now. Sunday dance, then sparring in the backyard. I needed the movement—needed to shake off the heat he stirred up in me without even trying.

“High guard,” I called.

He complied. I tested his balance with a soft kick to the ribs—barely a tap.

“You’re favoring your right again,” I said, circling.

“Noted.”

“Sloppy.”

“Harsh.”

I grinned. “You like it.”

Ay, claro que sí...

He lunged, surprising me with a sudden burst of energy. I stepped aside just in time, but his fingers grazed my hip. Not enough to hold. Just enough to make me feel it.

“You’re getting bold,” I murmured.

“You’re getting predictable,” he shot back.

On the Fence

After the last round, we sat on the low fence between our yards. Breathing hard. Close but not touching.

The night was thick with heat. Not summer heat—just him. Just us.

“I don’t get it,” he said finally.

“What?”

“This ... thing we’re doing.”

My heart thudded. “You mean sparring?”

“No,” he said, eyes fixed on the dark street. “I mean this tension. The back-and-forth. The ... everything.”

I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t know how to say me neither, without also saying I’m scared to ruin us.

She Watches

Mama Caceres stood behind her bedroom curtain, watching us from the window like she always did when she thought I wouldn’t notice.

She didn’t say much about Eli anymore. But I knew the way her eyes lingered. The way her hand tightened around her tea mug when I came home flushed and wordless.

She remembered what it looked like to be pulled into someone’s orbit before you could decide to fall.

And she saw it happening again.