Crossing the line.

I never realised what it meant when I had a crush on Luena in middle school. I never thought about what would happen if my confession ended badly. Would we have ceased being friends? I'm glad we didn't because our friendship...her friendship is too valuable to lose.

"It would have been different if it was us."

Why does asking her about the comment she made last night enerve me so much?

Her voice keeps playing in my head. Over and over. So much so that I want to come out and ask her about it right now, as she's eating her bowl of asopao de pollo.

We're sitting in the kitchen. It's silent. Weirdly silent. Which is why my thoughts keep haunting me with this burning question: What does it mean?

"God bless your hands, Cami," Luena eventually says. "Aunt Dahlìa taught you so well."

"Give me some credit; this is my perfected recipe," Carmen muses.

"Between you and me," Luena whispers, "yours is the better version."

Carmen laughs.

Luena glances at me; her eyes look sad. What's wrong with her? I recall last night when I found her crying in the hall. I never asked her the matter because I wanted to give her space; I mean, I wasn't in the right headspace anyway, so I probably wouldn't have been any help.

Speaking of last night, I hadn't thought about Livia all day. Glancing at my phone, I can see the multiple missed calls and texts from her.

She's the last person I want to speak to today.

"So, what do you both have planned for the summer I'm away?" Carmen asked. She gets up to wash her fruit bowl; she had the last pre-cut mango from the fridge.

"While you're away? Where are you going?" I asked.

I take a sip from my expresso, but it tastes weird; I think the whole milk went sour.

"Jackie and I are going to their homeland for the summer. We want to spend more time together before heading to school in the fall."

"Gufiao (cool). But aren't they from Thailand?"

"Yup."

Luena stands from her seat and hands Carmen her empty bowl; she obliges to wash it.

"I'm going to shower, so I'll be upstairs," she says. Without acknowledging me, she quickly heads out of the kitchen.

"What's up with her?" I ask when we're both alone.

"What do you mean? She's fine," Carmen innocently responds.

I know better than to believe that.

"She didn't say a word the entire time we ate. That's not like her."

"Yes, she did."

"I mean to me. She didn't even look me in the eye. What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know what to tell you, Damìan," she places the clean dishes in the cupboard. "Maybe she still has a headache. Lulu did throw up before coming downstairs."

I inwardly groan. What's the point of friendship if we can't be honest? The girl code is a nuisance in times like these; she's like a spy refusing to spill a trade secret.

"Last night, she was crying. Did you know that?" She pauses a moment. "Lulu didn't say anything, but something is wrong. Normally she talks to me, but she hasn't. I just wanna make sure she's okay."

Carmen folds her arms as she leans against the sink. "Nothing is wrong, but...if something were...maybe it has to do with last night."

Was that a hint?

"What happened last night?"

"Has the night been erased from your memory too?" She deadpanned. Shaking her head, Carmen heads out of the kitchen.

It takes me a second, but I finally get it. She must be talking about my breakup with Arlene. But why would that make her sad? Before I can interpret it further, the doorbell rings. Checking the time on the wall, I realise it's Saturday which means it's cleaning day. So the cleaning company must be here.

Standing from my seat, I go to the sink and pour my spoiled drink down the drain. Leaving the kitchen, I finally answer the door and find that it's not the cleaning company but my friend, Can (pronounced John), at the door.

"Hey man, how's it going." I give him a bro hug and let him in.

"You ready to go to Soul Cycle?" He asked, stepping inside.

I close the door behind me, "shit, bro. I forgot. How about a raincheck, and we do something else today? I'm not up for an hour of exercise."

Can Yildiz and I have been friends since fourth grade; he sat next to me in an art class, fist bumped my hand and told me we would be friends; we've been so ever since. His parents are Afro-Turks from Istanbul that moved to Los Angeles as surgeons a year before we met.

Every Saturday, we'd typically go cycling; Jackie introduced it to us a year ago. Jackie was the fastest centerfield on the baseball team and won us many trophies, so I'd trust their exercise regime any day. Some guys on the team called us sissies (not the word they used) for doing so, but I didn't care. I'm glad I don't have to play with some of those guys anymore; hell, I punched one of them last night.

Vete al carajo, Sam (go fuck yourself).

He shrugs, "not a problem with me. I saw what happened between you and Livia last night on socials. Sorry about what happened, tough break."

I lead him to the balcony across the hall, and we sit on Adirondack blue chairs. You can view my mother's garden from the balcony. The sun is out today, and it's about sixty-three degrees outside, so it's nice and cool. I fidget with the ceramic watermelon pot growing a succulent on the table between us.

"She's a real bitch for what she did to me. But should I be surprised? No. It happened once before. Once a cheater, always a cheater, right?"

Can sighs, "so, what are you gonna do now that you guys are over? Well, I'm assuming it's over." He takes out his vape pen and inhales it; blowing it out, the smell catches my nose.

"Is that CBD or THC?"

"CBD. I'm driving. Want some?" He offers me a puff, and I take it from him. Inhaling the vape, it tastes weak and not like the potent shit I had last night, but it immediately relaxes me, so I don't hate it.

"It's alright," I say, handing it back to him. "I have lambs bread if you wanna really vibe?"

"But you didn't answer my question."

I stand, "she was mi pana (my partner), and now she's not. Life goes on. So, I plan to get lit this summer. You in?"

He chuckles, "you got it, bro."