Julio led me up the stairs and to his room. There was honestly nothing inside that would indicate that the room was his. It had a bed, a bedside table, a small study table with an attached bookshelf and a chair. The sheets were a boring blue and there weren't any pictures except for one on the bedside table.

I walked over to it slowly, aware of Julio's eyes on me the entire time, cool and appraising. It was a photo of a woman with dark hair, smiling widely. She had graceful features, with amber eyes just like Julio's.

"That's my mother." He informed me, and I could feel his breath on my neck. I hadn't even noticed him come up behind me.

"She's beautiful." I told him honestly. I now knew where he'd gotten those devastating good looks of his.

"Yeah, she was." He said, and he sounded the closest I'd ever heard to sad. "She died four years ago, when I was fourteen."

"I'm sorr-" I began, only to have him cut me off.

"Don't." He said, firmly, "Just don't say you're sorry."

"What do you want me to say?" I asked softly, turning around to face him. I intertwined my fingers with his, and looked up at him, straight into his eyes.

They were glassy, and had a faraway look, like he wasn't here with me, but rather thinking of some other time, long ago.

"Nothing." He said, finally. "Don't say anything."

"What if I asked you what she was like?" I said, sitting down on his bed and making myself comfortable, leaning back onto the headboard.

"Then I'd tell you." He sat beside me, pulling me into him. I waited for him to continue and, after a short while, he did, taking in a deep breath before he spoke.

"Where should I begin?" He chuckled darkly, "She was sweet, sweeter than either Javi or I deserved, I think. Both of us were shitty when we were kids, and barely listened to her. She never yelled, though, and she'd stop my dad from yelling, too. She'd always tell us what was expected of us, and it was up to us to listen. Most of the time, we didn't. She only made us do things when she truly believed it was the right thing to do, like apologizing to a random kid at school after I made him cry."

"She sounds amazing." I put in, when he paused briefly, to urge him on.

"She was the best. She would only have to look at my dad once and he'd do whatever she said. She was probably the only person he's ever loved his entire life." Julio laughed humorlessly, and I was once again filled with a heavy dread that what I'd worried about his life at home was actually true.

"We all loved her. She was probably the only thing holding the family together. Even as kids, Javi and I didn't get along with our dad. We hated him, actually. That feeling's only grown."

I placed a feather-light kiss to his shoulder, and held on to his hand, as his tone had only grown darker and sadder. I was at a loss as to what to do in this situation. Julio had never been like this around me.

"How did she die?" I asked, careful not to upset him. His grip on my fingers tightened momentarily before relaxing again.

"A car accident. The person in the other car had been distracted by his kids in the backseat and the car just crashed into my mom's. She died, the driver of the other car died, and so did one of the kids." His voice tightened as he recalled what was one of the worst things that had ever happened to him. The worst, probably.

"After Mom died, my father went off the rails. For about two years, he ignored Javi and I. Then Javi went to college and got an apartment for himself, and it was just the two of us in this miserable house. That was when he started drinking. He got angrier, much angrier and..." He trailed off, and I felt him shrug.

"That time we first met, when you said you pissed off the wrong person and that was why you were punched, was that....?"

"Yes." He answered, without even trying to beat around the bush.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what I could say, so I did the only thing that made even a tiny bit of sense.

I kissed him. This wasn't a sweet sensitive kiss, nor was it a hot and heavy one. It was nothing if not passionate, and chilled me to the bone.

His lips were insistent against mine, and our lips moved together in perfect time. Soon enough, he rolled us over so that he was on top of me, bracing himself by his elbows, hovering so as to not crush me.

I let my hands go up to his hair, twisting through the silky locks and tugging him closer. He nipped at my lower lip to get me to open my mouth and I did, letting out a moan that I would've been embarrassed about under different circumstances.

His tongue slipped into my mouth, twining with mine before exploring every curve inside. His hands roamed up my sides, and settled high on my waist, just below my breasts. My shirt rode up and, soon, he was touching base skin.

My hands slid downwards and, without breaking the kiss, I slipped them under his shirt, feeling the defined lines of his torso under my palms.

I traced his abs with his fingers, and he growled, kissing me with reinforced vigor. I tugged at his shirt impatiently and he pulled back long enough for me yank it off, sliding my hands up his bare upper half and letting rest on his shoulders.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him impossibly closer. He trailed his lips down to my neck, where he began kissing and sucking. I moaned again, arching my back to give him better access. I was feeling ridiculously warm, and there was a pit of heat pooling in my stomach.

His fingers traced circles in the skin of my sides, and I felt him breathing heavily as he paused, pulling back. I made a sound of protest before he spoke, his voice strained, "We should stop before this goes too far."

As annoyed as I was with him for stopping, I knew he was right. I didn't want to regret my first time with him later and, if we did it like this, I'd probably regret it after.

"I'm sorry." I apologized, blushing crimson. I'd been the one to go further than I'd actually intended, getting carried away after pulling off his shirt.

"Don't apologize for shit like that, princess." He said, softly, pressing a kiss to my temple before rolling off me and laying beside me. The thing I felt guiltiest for was that I'd probably gotten him all hot and bothered.

He placed his arm around me, and pulled me into his chest, his hand settling on my shoulder as he effectively cuddled with me. He hadn't bothered to put a shirt back on, so I was blessed with the view of his extremely nice muscles.

It surprised me how we could go from being all sexy and making out and feeling each other up to cuddling innocently in bed, just content.

"You're amazing. Have I ever told you that?" I said, letting my hand splay across his chest, while I used my other hand to lace my fingers through his, the ones that he'd placed on my shoulder.

"No. I wouldn't mind hearing that more often, though." He informed me, and I giggled. I'd have to make it a point to tell him that more often, because I didn't think that a lot of people actually did.