2 STRINGS

A Step Forward

Sunday November 10

The smell of fried plantains and bacon wafted through the house as I rolled out of bed. Sunday mornings were sacred in our family—lazy, food-filled, and full of life. My mom believed it was the one day we had no excuses to not eat together.  

As I padded into the kitchen, I saw my mom bustling around, wearing her usual weekend apron. "Buenos días, mija," she greeted, placing a plate of golden plantains on the counter. "I was just about to call you. You're lucky I didn't send Kooty up with a wooden spoon to drag you out of bed." 

Kooty was already at the table, his mouth stuffed with toast. He grinned at me, crumbs on his cheeks. "Mom said you're hanging out with your boyfriend again today," he teased, his words muffled. 

"He's not my boyfriend," I shot back, rolling my eyes. 

"Not yet," Greg chimed in, walking past me with a smug grin. 

"Why is everyone so obsessed with my business?" I groaned, pouring myself a glass of orange juice. 

"Because it's fun," Mom said with a wink. She set a stack of pancakes in the center of the table. "Now sit, eat, and ignore your brothers. They're just jealous they don't have anyone." 

"Hey!" Greg protested, but Kooty burst out laughing, making the whole table dissolve into chuckles. 

We sat down together, passing plates around and digging in. Sundays like this reminded me of how much I loved my family, chaos and all. Greg and Kooty argued about who got the last pancake while my mom caught me up on her plans for the week. 

"How's the soccer team doing?" she asked between bites. 

"Good," I said, nodding. "We won Friday, remember? I sent you the video of my goal." 

She smiled proudly. "That's my girl." 

After breakfast, I helped clear the table and clean up the kitchen. As I wiped down the counter, my phone buzzed on the table. 

Xolo: "Morning. You still good for today?" 

Me: "Yep. What time?" 

Xolo: "Whenever you're ready. I'm free all day." 

I bit my lip, trying not to smile too much. "I'm heading out around noon," I said, casually slipping my phone back into my pocket. 

"Who's that?" Greg asked, eyeing me suspiciously. 

"No one," I replied quickly. Too quickly. 

"Yeah, right," he said, smirking. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." 

"That doesn't rule out much," I shot back, making him laugh. 

---

By noon, I was ready. I kept it casual: ripped jeans, a cropped sweatshirt, and my curls styled into a loose, carefree look. I told myself it wasn't a big deal—just another hangout. Still, the butterflies in my stomach told a different story. 

When Xolo pulled up outside, I felt my heart do a little flip. He was leaning against his car again, dressed in a flannel shirt layered over a plain tee, with black jeans and sneakers. Somehow, he always looked effortlessly cool. 

"You're early," I teased as I walked up to him. 

"And you're late," he shot back, grinning. "Ready?" 

"Let's go." 

---

We spent the afternoon wandering around town. I took him to a local art gallery that I loved, the kind of place where the walls were packed with vibrant paintings from unknown artists, and every piece told a story. 

"This is amazing," he said, stopping in front of a mural that depicted a bustling cityscape at sunset. 

"It's one of my favorites," I said. "The artist is from here, actually." 

"I can see why you like it," he said, glancing at me. "It's bold but soft at the same time. Kinda like you." 

I raised an eyebrow. "Did you just compare me to a painting?" 

"Maybe," he said, his grin widening. 

We grabbed coffee after the gallery and sat outside at a small café. The conversation flowed easily, like it always did with him. He told me about his band's upcoming tour, the challenges of being in the spotlight, and how he sometimes missed just being a normal guy. 

"Do you ever wish you could just... disappear for a while?" he asked, stirring his drink absently. 

"Sometimes," I admitted. "But not forever. I think the hard parts make the good parts even better." 

He looked at me thoughtfully. "You're pretty wise for someone who spends half her time chasing a soccer ball." 

"And you're pretty humble for a rock star," I shot back, making him laugh. 

---

As the sun started to set, I suggested we head to my mom's restaurant for dinner. "It's the best food in town," I said. "And I might be a little biased, but I'm not wrong." 

"Lead the way," he said, smiling. 

At the restaurant, my mom welcomed Xolo like he was family. She fussed over him again, bringing out dish after dish for him to try. 

"You're going to make me fat," he joked as she set down a plate of empanadas. 

"Nonsense," Mom said, waving him off. "You're too skinny, anyway." 

Even Greg seemed to warm up to him, though he couldn't resist a few sarcastic jabs. "So, what's it like being famous?" he asked, leaning back in his chair. 

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," Xolo said honestly. "But I love making music, so it's worth it." 

Kooty, of course, was thrilled to have Xolo's undivided attention for a while. "Did you know that the T. rex could run up to 20 miles per hour?" he asked excitedly. 

"Really?" Xolo said, genuinely interested. "That's faster than me." 

---

By the time he dropped me off that night, I felt like I'd known him forever. 

"Thanks for today," he said as we stood by my front door. "I had a great time." 

"Me too," I said, feeling the words fall short. 

For a moment, it felt like he might say something else, but instead, he smiled and stepped back. "See you soon?" 

"Definitely," I said, watching as he walked back to his car. 

As I closed the door behind me, I couldn't help but smile. Today felt like a step forward—not just with him, but with myself.