don't wanna rush | oscar diaz

aire y esperanza

Claudia grins real big like she's surprised he's  picking her up from work. He's not used to anyone besides Cesar being  genuinely thrilled to see him. It throws him off every time, even if he  knows she likes him as much as she does.

"Whatchu make for me?" she says as they leave the parking lot, and he laughs a little, shakes his head.

"You hungry, ma?"

"You stay saying you're a good cook," she says, "put your money where your mouth is, Diaz."

"No me crees?"

"We'll  see," she says, fingers laced with his while they drive, and smiles  when he squeezes their hands. Says, after, when they walk into the  house, "Oh! It smells good."

"You thought I was gonna order pizza,  huh," he says, one eyebrow raised, and she knocks their shoulders  together before kicking her shoes off. He even vacuumed.

"No," she  says, flutters her eyelashes at him when he tugs her close. Kisses him  with both hands on his chest, smiles like she's won the lotto when she  pulls back. "What is it?"

"Pasta primavera," he says, careful, like he's reading off the recipe, "you like mushrooms, right?"

"Yeah," she says, lets him lead them to the kitchen. Stops when they get there, goes, "Wait."

"Yeah?"  He thought she'd like the flowers. Maybe should have asked her which  she liked best, first, but he figured he might as well spend the extra  couple of bucks for the bouquet. Had to go digging through the garage  for a vase, trimmed the stems and everything. Went and found some  actually nice plates, too, even a glass jarra for water that looked like  something out a catalogue.

She blinks up at him. "You..."

"What, you got allergies now?" he says, wonders secretly if she does. Maybe—"You don't like them, o qué?"

"No, I do," she says, eyes huge, "this is...I shoulda brought something."

"Pues," he says, pulling her chair out for her, "you're here, no?"

"That  doesn't count," she says, watches him as he sits across from her. Pours  water from the pitcher for them both—sliced some citrus for it, even.

"Yeah it does," he says, and then, nervous, suddenly, "you gotta tell me if this tastes like shit, though."

She stifles a giggle, fixes him with an unimpressed look that does little to hide how pleased she is. "No que sabés cocinar?"

"New recipe," he says, serving her first, "I thought it was fine, but you got some weird taste, nena."

"Hawaiian  pizza's good," she says, nose in the air like she's about it, and she  laughs at whatever face he makes. "I'm surprised you ain't like it."

"Claudis," he says, watching as she takes a bite, "you can't pay me for that."

"Mhm," she says, makes a face at him. "Don't look at me like that."

"Is it good?"

"Yeah," she says, laughing, "really good."

He  nods. Feels proud of himself, but mostly pleased to have her looking at  him the way she is, happy as ever. He likes being the one making her  grin like that.

It's—nice, sitting together like this.  The word doesn't feel strong enough but it's true. He's got Claudia to  himself, gazing at him real fondly while they have dinner, swapping  chisme about the neighborhood and trying to make each other laugh.  Claudia insists on helping him clean up afterwards, bumps her hips  against his as they pass dishes to one another.

"Thanks for  dinner," she says, after, stepping close to him. If they were other  people, maybe, this would be the part where he's dropping her off at her  place and gets a kiss at the door. Oscar's glad they're not other  people, though. In this life, Claudia puts her arms around his neck and  kisses him until they're both breathless, and he finally gets her into  bed.

He wakes up the next morning to eggs on the table for him.  Raises an eyebrow when he sees Santi Guerrero sitting there with his  hands behind his head, looking more comfortable, maybe, than he should.  It's not even nine.

"Qué onda, compa," he says, offering Santi a fist bump, and moves to where Claudia's scrubbing at the pan.

"Nothin' much, homie," Santi says, "wasn't sure if you was around today."

"I  leave the door open o qué?" He rests his hand on Claudia's lower back,  noticed she was a little stiff just from looking at her.

"Nah," he  says, "Chucho left his keys at my place, figured I'd drop them off  today. Your girl's real nice." His smile's not all that friendly.

"Yeah," Oscar says. He says to her, voice a little low like he's trying to keep a secret, "I got that."

"Ya  lo hice," she says, glancing at him from the corner of her eye for a  second before turning to look at him more fully, like she can't stand  not to. "You hungry?"

"Yeah," he says again, looking at her, and  brings up a hand to cover their faces so he can kiss her real quick.  Wants to head back to bed but the food smells good, and he's got to get  rid of Santi, besides. He says to him, taking a seat in front of his  plate, "I'm around, g, but I'mma be kicking it this weekend."

Santi smirks a little. Says, "I feel you, homes. 'S one'a those days."

"Right," Oscar says, and tilts his head at the way Santi glances over at Claudia. She dries her hands, touches his shoulder.

"Be right back," she says, and disappears down the hallway. When he looks away, Santi looks smug.

"'Tá bien guapa, sabes."

"Thanks," Oscar says, takes a bite of his omelet before he says something he might regret.

"How long you been seeing her?"

"Couple months," he says. Ignores the curl of unease in his stomach.

"She that hyna you was always running 'round with, no? Surprised you ain't smash sooner."

"She's my girl," Oscar says, like a correction.

Santi  holds his hand up like surrender. Still grinning like he's got some  joke he's not sharing. "I feel you," he says again, "I'll head out, g.  Ain't tryna get in the way of a good thing."

"Appreciate it,"  Oscar says, not meaning it. Is maybe cursing Chucho for being dumb  enough to carry his spare around—only gave him the key in case he ever  needed a last-minute sitter for Cesar, after all. No reason for it to  fall into Santi's hands. "I'll hit you up Monday, a'right, man?"

"Sounds  good," he says, and it's not until the front door shuts that Oscar lets  out the breath he's been holding. Tries to pretend like Santi was never  there, waits for Claudia to come back in the meantime. He breathes  easiest when she's around, after all.