Page 14 of When Javi Dumped Mari

Mari

Ten Years and Seven Months Before the Wedding

My mother’s advice is spot-on. Good thing is, Rob’s already forgotten, and I’m socializing as usual—well, trying to.

“C’mon, come with us,” I plead.

Javi isn’t even letting us into his dorm room. Instead, he’s standing at the threshold with his arms folded over his chest and his mouth set in a hard line.

“No,” he says. “Absolutely not. And if you need me to be clearer, hell to the no.”

Sasha snorts and continues to pace the dimly lit hallway. Brittany throws her head back in frustration, though I’m wondering if it’s the skintight bandage dress that’s making her more irritable than usual. (Honestly, I liked last month’s emo look better.)

“Have you been to a single party while you’ve been here?” I ask Javi, my hands on my hips.

“Nope,” he says, popping his lips for emphasis, a habit he picked up from me. “And I intend to keep it that way. Grain alcohol. Jell-O shots. Puke on my sneakers. Sounds like a damn nightmare. I’ll pass.”

“Listening to music, dancing, getting to know people,” I say, ticking off each point with my fingers.

He stares at me for a moment, then says, “That’s supposed to change my mind how? Do you know me or what?”

I do know him.

I know that his favorite color is blue.

I know that he hates when people speak with their mouths full.

I know that his mother calls him papito, mi cielito, and an untold number of other -itos, and he doesn’t mind at all.

I know that he would drop everything if I needed his help (and I’d do the same).

But I also know he wants to be a loner—because it’s safer than putting himself out there. So I’m not giving up on him just yet.

“You’ll have veto power over anyone I talk to, remember?”

He taps his chin. “Tempting…but it’s still a no.”

“An hour,” I beg. “Just give me an hour or two.”

“Sorry, Mari, I’m staying in tonight.”

As if to underscore how awful drunk college kids can be, the doors of two rooms fly open and a white guy bolts from one to the other, a pair of underwear on his head.

“Yeah, exactly, have fun,” Javi says, escaping into his room and pushing the door closed.

Just before the door shuts, a hand shoots out from inside, and soon after, his roommate, Jeremy, emerges and jostles Javi to the side. Giving us a lopsided grin, Jeremy leans against the doorframe. “Well, hellooo, ladies. How can we help you this evening?”

The guy’s a trip. His dirty-blond curly hair surrounds his face like a halo, and his skin is always flushed. Sasha secretly (and perfectly) nicknamed him Cupid. Brittany says he favors Justin Timberlake during his *NSYNC days.

“We’re trying to get your roommate to quit acting like a thirty-year-old,” I tell him.

Jeremy straightens, crosses his arms over his chest, and tucks his hands in his armpits. “Good luck with that. He’s got a full night planned applying Preparation H to his hemorrhoids.”

Javi smacks the back of Jeremy’s head and retreats into the room.

Jeremy shakes it off and asks, “Where you going?”

“ODO’s throwing a party at their house on Brickman Street,” Brittany says.

“Ten-dollar cover charge,” I chime in.

“Ten dollars?” Javi shouts from inside. “Now I’m definitely not going!”

“Forget him, Mari,” Sasha whines. “He doesn’t want to hang with us. Let’s just bounce.”

Javi’s a grump, but he’s my grump. Sasha doesn’t get him, but I do. I’ve come to think of him as a candy with a hard outer shell and a gooey center. A Mentos personified.

“Okay, fine,” I say loud enough for Javi to hear, “but that woman in the public safety workshop said we should attend parties in groups. So we can watch out for each other.”

Javi pokes his head out and points a finger at us. “Don’t lose sight of your drinks, okay?” He slips away, only to reappear seconds later. “Better yet, don’t drink anything at all.”

“Sure, sure,” I say, pulling on the hem of my black miniskirt.

Javi’s gaze follows the action, and then he clenches his jaw before disappearing inside again.

I’ll work on him , Jeremy mouths as he closes the door.

“He’s fun,” Brittany observes as we amble toward the exit. “Reminds me of my dad. Are you sure he isn’t one of those people who decide to finish college later in life? Like, do you have actual proof he’s our age?”

I roll my eyes. “Just because Javi’s not a typical college kid doesn’t mean he’s ancient.”

“Eh, I guess you’re right,” Brittany says, clutching my hand as she wobbles along in her too-tight heels. “Well, anyway, I’m so glad we’re going out tonight.”

“You’re not slick, you know. You’re only hanging on to me because you’re about to bust your ass in those ridiculous shoes.”

“That too,” she says on a laugh.

Before we reach the stairwell, I hear the click of a door locking, and when I look behind me, Javi’s walking toward us, his face blank as he throws on a T-shirt.

I peek at the sliver of skin visible when he adjusts the waistband of his dark-wash jeans, and my heart skitters.

Have I considered what it would be like to give in to the attraction that sometimes simmers between us?

Absolutely. But Javi’s too special to be relegated to a situationship.

And that’s all I would ever want from anyone at this stage of my life anyway.

He obviously feels the same; I mean, he invented a girlfriend to cockblock himself.

Remembering all of this, I spin around and link arms with my girls.

“Good choice,” I say over my shoulder. “You’re going to have a blast, I promise.”

Javi grunts in reply.

***

Javi is not having a blast.

ODO’s house isn’t huge, but they’ve removed every piece of furniture on the main floor, so the space consists of nothing other than the bare rooms and an eerie blue lamp that’s serving as the party’s only light source.

Everyone appears to be holding a red Solo cup in their hand, but as Javi recommended, we’re not drinking anything.

“If someone pukes on my sneakers, you’re buying a new pair,” Javi tells me, leaning in so I can hear him over the booming sound of Don Omar and Lucenzo’s “Danza Kuduro” coming from two speakers the size of a small human. I swear they’ve played it at least three times in the last hour.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say over my shoulder, throwing my arms above my head and rocking my hips because that song is still a banger.

A few feet from us, Brittany and Sasha ignore the guys around them as they dance back-to-back. Sasha’s crop top is bringing all the boys to the yard, it seems.

A few minutes pass without a snarky comment from Javi, so I glance back at him and catch him sneaking a peek at my ass.

When our eyes meet, his gaze darts to the floor.

“It’s a nice butt, isn’t it?” I ask, winking at him.

Javi’s mouth twitches, and then he rolls his eyes. “You know it is.” With a sigh, he makes a big show of looking at his watch. “You’ve got about thirty minutes left.”

This time it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Fine.” I stand next to him and scan the crowd, my fingers threaded like an evil villain planning world annihilation. After a moment, I point to a cute Latinx guy across the room. “What about him?”

Javi shakes his head.

“Why not?” I huff, leaning into him.

“He has a girlfriend.”

Someone turns up the music even louder, so Javi and I are forced to put our heads together to continue our conversation. Unfortunately, his scent—a clean, earthy smell with just a hint of citrus—tickles my nose and sends my brain to forbidden places.

I draw back and clear my throat. “How can you tell he’s taken?”

“Look at his wrist. He’s wearing a friendship bracelet.”

I snort. “That doesn’t mean he has a girlfriend.”

“If you’re going to question my reasoning,” he says, a smile dancing on his lips, “I’ll just go ahead and leave now.”

“Okay, okay, relax. But we should probably set some ground rules. I mean, you can’t just make shit up as you go. You have to have good intentions.”

“Of course,” he says, nodding. “I only want what’s best for you.”

I’m skeptical, but I’ll trust him—for now. I survey the room again and point at a white guy standing with a group of friends. “What about him?”

“The mullet should be disqualifying all by itself, but he’s also a pothead.”

“How do you know?”

“He and Jeremy are friends.”

I groan. “That’s disqualifying too.”

He laughs. “It should be. Present company included.”

“No, you’re exempt, you adorable curmudgeon.”

He pulls me into him, kisses my forehead, then releases me.

It’s a peck, really. Chaste. Friendly. Coming from a place of affection, not lust. Except Javi’s lips are butter soft, and he smells amazing.

Just like that, my brain rewires itself, decides his kiss is the only one that will do.

And I really hate that for me. Because I have a sinking feeling that going forward, I’ll compare every person to Javi and find them lacking.

No, no, no, brain. We are not going there.

As if the universe is trying to extend me a break, a slim Black guy appears at my side, his meticulous fade and unwrinkled button-down immediately setting him apart from most of the guys at this party. A Belmont boy who doesn’t consider T-shirts formal wear? I never thought I’d see the day.

On the other side of me, Javi clears his throat, so I turn and look up at him.

He tips his head ever so slightly, then walks away to join Sasha and Brittany, who are huddled in a corner guffawing about something. I guess this means he’s giving me the green light.

“You’re Marisol, right?” the guy says.

His voice is nice—not as deep as Javi’s, but nice nonetheless. And he’s only a couple of inches taller than me, so I don’t have to crane my neck to meet his gaze like I’m always doing with Javi.

“Yeah. You are?”

“Trent,” he says, flashing me a wide smile that highlights his straight white teeth.

I lick my lips and extend my hand. “Great to meet you, Trent.”

He rubs the back of his neck, then takes a calming breath. “So, uh, would you like to dance?”

His apparent nervousness charms me. I really hope it’s not a facade.

I glance at the corner where I last saw my friends and notice that Katy Maldonado has joined them.

Ugh, it’s bad enough that I still have to deal with her because she’s on the LASA board, but now I have to see her here too?

Wait a minute. What is she doing? I narrow my eyes.

Is she…? Yeah, she’s inching closer and closer to Javi, positioning her body to block out my girls and invade his personal space. Absolutely not.

“Give me a sec, Trent,” I say, and then I yell Javi’s name from across the room.

He immediately looks up and finds me in the crowd, a question in his eyes.

I stare at him pointedly, flick my chin toward Katy, and slice a hand across my throat.

He throws his head back and laughs. When he recovers, he gives me a mock salute, letting me know he gets my meaning.

With Javi safely out of Katy’s web, I take Trent’s hand and pull him onto the dance floor.

This new dynamic between Javi and me is exactly what I needed. We’re friends, confidants, bodyguards too. And because he matters so much to me, I’m vowing to keep it that way.