Chapter 7: Caliente

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A Spanish word with multiple meanings, like hot, horny, heated, and spirited.

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Time seems to slow down. Raphael feels his heart stop, her shaded eyes falling on him. He backs up, already searching for the best way out, and she tilts her head a little to the side.

"Oh..." she whispers.

His eyes widen and his mouth falls open. "Oh? OH? That's all you have to say?!"

She looks taken aback for a second, but her light smile wipes any shock away. "Well, someone's a little touchy." She turns away and rakes her fingers through her dark hair. "You're the one who was stalking me, tortuga."

"Pfft," he scoffs. "I wasn't stalking you. I was simply...uh...following the music."

He smacks his forehead and lets out a silent cuss. He should be sprinting away as fast as he possibly can. Almost every fibre of his being is telling him to run away and never return, but a single strand disagrees and here he is.

Taylor laughs. "Right, because you just casually follow strange music not once, but twice." She turns back to him and even when her eyes are covered by her dark shades, he's unnerved by her stare. "You were with Casey the other night, ¿verdad?"

He sputters for a moment. "How did you...I wasn't...I mean, I was sort of...but you were...HUH?!"

She giggles and it's breezy, relaxed, almost soothing to his ears. "You're funny," she purrs.

"Well, you're..." He crosses his arms over his chest. "You're plain weird! Who in their right mind plays music on a rooftop in the dead of night wearing freaking sunglasses?!"

She stays straight-faced. "I can almost hear those little..." She snaps her fingers. "¿Cómo se llaman? Interro...interrogarse...oh! Interrobangs. All those little interrobangs behind your words."

Part of him is enraged not only by her avoidance of his question but by the fact that he isn't sure what an interrobang is. He'll ask Donatello later. The other part of him finds her little mutterings of Spanish alluring, almost sexy if he dares to think it.

He pouts. "That doesn't answer my question."

"I don't see anything wrong with what I'm doing," she states.

"Okay, then what about the fact that I'm a freaky turtle mutant? How are you not running for the hills right now?"

Raphael, as your conscience, I'm telling you to shut up and run away. It's not too late, he scolds himself.

She waves her hand dismissively. "Oh please, I've seen mutants before. This city is crawling with them. You're not all that special, so maybe climb off your high horse and calm down, hm?"

She smirks and he growls, his entire body starting to quiver. "I don't need your sass."

"No one really needs to be sassed, but it's more fun if they are." She pouts her bottom lip a little as she shrugs. "As for the other stuff, that's my own business and I'm not entitled to tell complete strangers about my motives. Answer enough for you?"

He blinks as she crosses her arms over her chest and leans onto one leg. He doesn't say a word, his head spiralling with too many emotions to pin down and name. She swings her guitar over her shoulder and flashes another dazzling smile his way.

"Speechless. Eso es perfecto, just what I wanted, really." She adjusts her sunglasses as she places a hand on her hip. "I guess you know my name too?"

Non-Mutation (Book Four)Onde as histórias ganham vida. Descobre agora