A Hater's Gamble (BxB)

THIRTY-TWO

"One foot in front of the other."

G R A C E

"Diego, promise me no fighting," I stated, taking the baked potatoes out of the oven.

My brother leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. "I'm not promising anything. Oh, and I forgot to tell you," he said, taking an apple from the fruit bowl, "I invited Liam. He'll be here at six."

Shit.

"Porque hiciste eso?," I asked, fury burning my throat.

He looked confused as he bit into his apple. "It's my house. I can invite whoever I want."

"Okay, but it's my fucking dinner. And I don't appreciate Liam's snide remarks. Neither does Miles. And Hector won't either!," I pointed out.

He shrugged and grinned, "Guess we'll just have to see then."

M I L E S

The Wednesday was gloomy. Sunlight was blocked by thick, gray clouds. It looked as if it was going to rain. Cough syrup seemed to cure my cold, but I still had a lingering headache—that symptom seemed to be prevalent recently.

I took a deep breath as I kept an intense gaze on Grace's front door. It was brown and decorated with a rich-green Christmas wreath. My stomach felt jittery, and my hands shook.

Was it the cold? Was I nervous?

Just as I was about to knock, the brown door swung back, making the little bells on the wreath jingle. Diego. He looked slightly annoyed at the sight of me on his front porch.

"Get inside, stop standing out there like an idiot," he said, holding the door open for me. I gladly abided, considering that the icy air outside was starting to frost my fingers.

"That's the most civil sentence you've ever said to me in the last three years, Cervantes," I noted, as he shut the front door.

He glared at me and scoffed. "My sister is having a meltdown in the kitchen. Go help her before she burns the house down."

I gave him a questioning look, but he turned on his heel and headed upstairs.

"Grace," I called, before entering the kitchen. She had her brown hair in a loose bun as she sprinkled seasoning on a tray of diced vegetables. Her brow was slightly matted with sweat and her cheeks were flushed from the heat in the kitchen. When she finally looked up at me, she beckoned me over to the counter where she stood.

"If you can't tell, I want to rip Diego's hair out," she whispered, beginning to put used utensils in the dishwasher.

I picked up a piece of seasoned carrot from the tray and popped it into my mouth. Pepper and lime. Delightful.

"Why are you whispering?," I asked, lowering my own voice.

She stopped her fussing and looked at me straight in the face. Grace put her hands on her hips and said, very quietly. "It's either this, or it's screaming on the top of my lungs, which I so badly want to give into."

"Ah," I said, assisting her with the dishes. "What did Diego do now?"

With her elbows rested on the counter, she put her head in her hands. "He invited Liam. Without fucking tel—."

I set a plate on the counter and seethed, "What?,"

She wrung her hands, "I know. I'm so sorry, okay?"