Page 88 of Nacho Boyfriend

Real girlfriend. Fake fiancée. What is my life coming to?

“Now for the best part.” Francesca holds up the bottle of Tajín like she’s a game show model.

“What’s that?” asks Olive.

“Only the most amazing condiment that ever did condiment.”

I roll my eyes. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Nobody asked you, brother.”

“It looks spicy,” says Olive. “I’ll pass on that.”

“No,” Francesca cries. “Is it even Mexican corn without Tajín? I submit that no, it is not.”

She shakes half the bottle all over her corn and passes it to Olive.

“Eh, I think I’ll stick with the non-spicy version.”

“Olive. Are you a Mexi-can or a Mexi-can’t?”

“I... Neither.”

Francesca shakes her head. “Girl, you are marrying into this family. You may find our ways strange and mysterious, but I know you can adapt. I have faith in you.”

“Is this some kind of test? Like the tortilla slap?”

Francesca and I exchange a look. “That was Sebastian’s idea,” I say. “And it was just to mess with Edmund. They’re always messing with Edmund.”

“I’ve been friends with Edmund since we were in first grade together,” says Francesca. “They’ve always picked on him.”

“That’s because he’s an easy target,” I say. What I don’t say, is how us brothers will always give Edmund a hard time as long as we worry he’ll break her heart.

Francesca places a hand on Olive’s arm. “Everybody likes you, don’t worry.”

Olive bites her lip. “Well… maybe I’ll try it on one bite. Just tell me on a scale of one to inferno of eternal flames, how hot is it?”

“It’s actually more tangy than hot,” I say. “Sort of like lemon pepper. If you hate it, I’ll finish your corn and you can get a fresh one.”

She agrees, and Francesca adds the Tajín to Olive’s corn. Olive tentatively takes a bite and her eyes go wide.

“Oh mylanta. This is amazing.” She grabs the bottle and shakes it all over, taking another bite. “Wow. So good.”

Francesca crosses her arms smugly. “My work here is done.”

Meanwhile, Olive devours her corn. She ends up gobbling up two ears, which doesn’t ruin her appetite for the main course much. We have our traditional Fourth of July carne asada tacos and Abuela’s pinto beans. Olive declares it the best meal of her life, but Mom says it’s only because she’s newly engaged. “Everything tastes better when you're engaged.”

Except when you’re faking it. When you’re lying to your whole family, the tacos taste like deceit.

I’m exhausted by the time the sun goes down. It’s been a long day and Abuelo had a great time. I’m ready to turn in.

But my brothers have other plans. Nate had bought a boatload of fireworks on a surfing trip in Mexico, unbeknownst to me. He drags the boxes from his car with Mateo’s and Sebastian’s help, and they set up all the rockets in an open gravel lot.

“You can’t blow stuff up,” I snap at them. “You’ll start a fire. Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Dude,” says Nate. “It’s safe. Abuelo’s all for it.”

“Abuelo’s running on tequila fumes and birthday cake. I wouldn’t exactly trust his judgment right now.”