The trip had been covert-ops level madness because of my mother. I had to plot this well and that meant I needed to pull in special forces; cousins. Any Puerto Rican will tell you they have at least 15 first cousins. At least. I had twenty-four. Eleven that still lived on the island so I had plenty of people I could pretend to see who would totally lie before the family court for me. A call to Claudia and Anita had begun the plot for me to spend the two weeks in Puerto Rico out of the family's prying.

"This has become extremely convoluted," Yara was listening when I hung up on Claudia, my oldest cousin. She was twenty-nine, had her own place, pierced nipples, and smoked weed morning to night. "Are you going to tell him?"

"Maybe," I chewed compulsively on my nails.

Yara let out a long-suffering sigh. "Use a condom."

Mom was suspicious of the whole trip. She didn't understand why I would want to go to Puerto Rico by myself with that boy whom she suddenly disliked.

"I haven't been back to the island in like five years!"

"Three," she stared me down. "Before you graduated."

"I want to see Abuela."

"Then why are you staying with Claudia? Do you know what my sister Olga said about her? Que esta echa una puta."

"She has a boyfriend! She's loyal to him, she's not "whoring' around."

"Ah, but she's living with him without being married," Mom said.

"Let God worry about her," I controlled a sigh.

"I will worry about my daughter, ojo!" She pointed to her twitching eye. "Because God knows!"

"Victor is my friend!"

"Amigos hacen niños."

Friends make children. Ugh!

I couldn't even tell Victor I loved him, exactly how she feared I'd get pregnant was beyond me. I was nervous, I wouldn't even pretend to anything else. Almost two weeks with Victor in Puerto Rico. Sharing a hotel room, spending most time together. Endless possibilities. Then again, being as we were only friends, this could also open the reality of him wanting to bring girls back to the room. And I'd have to lay in the bed next to them listening to them fuck. The mere thought of it made me sick. Utterly sick.

The worst moment was Mercy arriving back in town and Yara blurting 'Becka is madly in love with Victor Manning and they're leaving to Puerto Rico to fuck for two weeks, join us at Victoria's Secret!'

Mercy had an Exorcist-level of head turn, her eyes glued on me. "I KNEW IT!"

What? "What do you mean you knew?"

"When you said that he drove to Lakeland to get the both of you, I was like these two... that's what I thought." Mercy's hair was now shorter than ever, up to her ears and she had multiple piercings and a tattoo in her upper thigh. She was also smoking, bringing the cigarette with a smirk to her red lips.

I looked at the two of them incredulously.

"You need black underwear, lace and maybe some leather," Mercy looked me over.

I gasped. "I won't –"

"You never know," Yara said, inspecting my breasts. "You have a great rack, you have to show them off!"

"I have to do no such thing!" I crossed my arms over my breasts.

Mercy stubbed out her cigarette and pulled Yara back with a shake of her head. "A woman should be the one to determine what she feels comfortable in."

"One Women's Studies class and you're a full-blown feminist!" Yara glared at her.

"And a Communist!" Mercy smiled proudly and Yara gasped. "Now, Becka, back to the matters at hand. Do you want to have some nice underwear in case your shirt falls off?"

"Shirts fall off?" I placed my hand on my hips.

"All the time," Mercy said with certainty.

So, we went to Victoria Secret, but I didn't know how this was supposed to put me at ease. First, I was looking for their largest size which came with a disapproving turn of the salesgirl's lips. Second, I really did not need extra padding in my bra as I came with plenty of natural padding. Nevertheless, we found two pieces that would work, didn't make me feel like I should stand with my legs pressed and my stomach tucked.

When the girls dropped me back off at him, Mercy hung out the window with a smile on her face and Yara beaming at me from the driver's seat.

"You're funny, my girl," Mercy said. "You chased Clemente Cruz all over high school and now you can't even tell Victor, of all people, how you feel."

I tucked my hair behind my ear. "This is different. I wasn't in love with Clem."

"Oh, you thought you were," Yara said.

"I was wrong, very wrong. I'm a little clueless with this stuff," I held up the pink bag filled with my purchases.

"Look," Mercy pursed her lips. "He doesn't have to love you back, he might just like you as a friend, you'll be a bit embarrassed if that happens. But don't let whether he does or does not love you back dictate your happiness. That's all I'm saying." She held her palms up.

"Plus, you'll wonder the rest of your life if you never tell him," Yara said and Mercy nodded. "Don't live with regrets, trust me, it's a shitty way to live."

I stared at the two of them and leaned in, kissed Mercy on the cheek and grasped Yara's hand. The three of us smiled at one another.

"Patty Girls for life," I said.

"Patty Girls for life," they said and we haphazardly hugged.

×××

I had to hide my lingerie in the lining of my luggage as Mami decided to play detective the moment I said I was done packing.

"You're taking a lot of little dresses."

"It's May. It's hot and I hope to go to parties."

"Hmmm," she eyed me up and down. "Cuidado, Becka Luisa Montana, here I got you this."

She placed a card on top of my luggage and Saint Agnes stared up at me with wide pious eyes painted in a Rubenesque manner. If there was one Saints help I didn't want on this trip it was Miss Agnes. I flipped her upside down when Mami left, what Agnes didn't know...

Victor's Mom had agreed to take us to the airport, and I was ready wearing a blue flower dress when they came to pick me up. Mami instantly followed me, determined to have a little mom conversation. Victor glanced at me and came to help me with my luggage.

"Jesus, what the hell do you have in here?" He grunted.

I looked at my massive suitcase, it was the largest one we had. "Clothes, shoes, an industrial-sized blow-dryer, all of my makeup..."

He shook his head, shoving it in the trunk next to his smaller conservative black duffle bag. My luggage was bright red with ribbons tied in varying colors to the handle. You know, so I could spot it on the conveyer belt. He tossed the ribbons with an amused smile.

"Shut up," I grumbled and slid into the backseat.

"Bueno," Mami finished with Mrs. Manning. She gave me a sharp eye. "Behave."

"They'll be fine," Mrs. Manning said but she didn't have daughters and Hispanic mothers with daughters lived in a perpetual fear of our "flowers" being destroyed.

"Have a safe trip and call me the moment you land then call me when you're with Claudia," Mami said. Seriously?

"Ok."

"Que dios me los bendiga," Mami gave us her final blessing with the sign of the cross and we pulled out of my driveway.

I was completely mortified, Mami still treated me as if I were fifteen and not turning twenty-one in a month. Victor's mom didn't seem to think anything was amiss but before we exited the car, I heard her whisper to him to behave because I was a good girl, de su casa. To not leave me alone with men and to make sure I didn't take drinks from guys I didn't know. This was all worse because he essentially had to 'big brother me' and I didn't want a creepy Tony Montana watching over me.

Victor and I said goodbye to his mom, and we were on our way. This felt nice, having an actual vacation together. He looked lighthearted and happy. He was still wearing a too-tight t-shirt with basketball shorts and his trainers and I was an entire head shorter than him in my flat sandals. Seeing as I was a window seat whore and Victor was an aisle seat lover, mostly so he could stretch his long legs, he got us an upgrade to business class and we had unexpected privacy.

Victor pulled out his CD player and headphones, sorted through his favorite tracks until he found one he liked. I, on the other hand, had a crisp copy of a book called Harry Potter which I thought was a little too young for me but seemed to be popular at Barnes and Noble. The salesgirl told me it was amazing, and a movie was being made.

"You're reading children's books now?" Victor teased, touching the cover.

"Professor Allens says one must be well versed in all genres." I eyed him defensively.

"What's it about?"

"I think it's about an orphan kid that finds out he's a wizard, I've just started," I said.

He slid his backpack under the seat in front of him. "Do you ever want to write books?"

I thought about it for a moment as he watched me. "I think I rather read them, plus I'm better at poetry."

He laughed, looking me over. "Are you? Tell me one of your poems."

"I will not," I looked out my window. All I could think was the fifteen or so poems I'd written about him, describing the shape of his legs in detail. I hoped I didn't flush.

"Did you write one about Clem?"

I looked at him, he looked thoroughly amused. "Yes, but it was a long time ago."

"I can almost see it," he said, holding his hand up. "His name is Clemente, the way he walks is amazing -"

I punched his arm and he let out a laugh. "I am way better than that!"

He didn't tease me more about my poetry and I would have spent the flight composing lines about the feel of his arm against mine had my book not been so immersive. As I became lost in Hogwarts, Victor's head dropped to my shoulder fast asleep, and I paused, looking over his relaxed face. I loved watching him sleep and my thoughts began to poetically compose lines.

In Spanish, there are different words for how one feels towards a person.

Me gustas, I like you.

Te amo, I love you.

But we also have te quiero which does not mean its literal translation of 'I want you', it's a place between like and love. I wondered at other languages if they too have words upon words for sentiments. I wondered if somewhere in the world there existed a word was more powerful than love, someone that understood how I felt at this moment. How I wanted to hold him and cherish him, adore him but love him at the same time. I wondered how we had been writing for thousands of years and still, people found new ways of describing love, of attempting to catch a feeling with the subjectivity of words.

I remembered a song my father loved listening to. It was called El Reloj, The Clock. The narrator sings to the clock, begs it not to continue on its path, to stop time, so that he can keep his lover because once the morning comes she's leaving him forever. That's how I felt. I wanted to cup time in my hands so that Victor could stay on my shoulder. With uncertain fingers, I reached out and touched his hand, warm and smooth. In his hand, he held my heart and he didn't know it.

With my finger pressed against his hand, I fell asleep.

Recommended Year 2000 Playlist (will grow with each chapter)

1. If You're Gone - Matchbox Twenty

2. Absolutely (Story of a Girl) - Nine Days

3. Hanging by a Moment - LifeHouse

4. Yellow - Coldplay

5. Breathe - Faith Hill

6. Smooth - Carlos Santana

7. Country Grammar - Nelly

8. Butterfly - Crazy Town

9. Be with You - Enrique Iglesias

10. It's My Life - Bon Jovi

11. Reloj - Luis Miguel