The Truth About Mila | Mayans M.C.

| Family Issues |

The Truth About Mila || MMC

"A child, without toxic interference, will naturally become the person they are meant to be. André Chevalier"

~ Nikki Sex

~

It was a kiss. A simple kiss that threw Coco into the light of pure bliss. Even after the party was over, Coco couldn't keep his hands away from Mila. His lips craved the taste of her chapstick. No one else mattered last night and Coco still held that belief as his soft brown eyes rest on the coffee maker. Sure, he was intoxicated to the point of feeling ill, however, Coco wasn't just kissing Mila due to some drunken courage.

Coco rubs his rough hands down his face. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen. This morning, he had woken up early in hopes Mila would soon follow. Unfortunately, he had been waiting for nearly two hours. Leaving the Mayan with his own harsh thoughts. Coco wondered if bringing her here was the best choice. Gilly didn't see anything wrong with it as he helped Coco and Mila up the steps leading them to his home. However, what bothered Coco is the fear that Mila wasn't too coherent about her own actions.

What if those sweet kisses meant absolutely nothing? What will she do after realizing she is not in her own bed but his? Will she instantly leave or remain to speak about how last night was a mistake?

A mistake. Coco began to fear their intimacy was a mistake.

Coco starts for the fridge, hoping Mila enjoyed mocha flavored creamer when the doorbell rang. Then, a few hard knocks scrapped against his front door. Checking the clock attached to the stove, Cocoa raised his brows. No one usually stopped by unless there was club business, an emergency, or his mother needed something from him. Coco prayed the final alternative isn't behind that door.

Coco walked from out of the kitchen and took three short steps down the short entranceway where the front door sat. Whoever felt the need to knock on his door at nine in the morning practically began to bang against the hardwood.

"Hold the fuck on, " Coco shouts.

Swinging the door open, Coco comes face-to-face with option number three. The woman who gave birth to him. Celia Cruz stood with one hand on her hip and her honey blonde hair draped over her shoulders. With a look of anger, Celia chews on her piece of gum quickly. She had been calling him for nearly three days now. Not one phrase uttered her way. She disliked being ignored, especially by her own son.

"Where the hell have you been, Johnny?" Celia questioned in Spanish. "I've been calling you nonstop. For once, think about other people."

Coco gripped the edge of his door, rolling his eyes at her comments.

"I need help with the brat, " Celia added after going on.

"Mom, not right now, " Coco says through gritted teeth.

Back in his room, Mila's eyes slowly fluttered open. She winces in silence, bringing the blanket up to her eyes for the sunlight too much for her pounding head. The smell of Coco the first thing catching her attention as she gathered herself. His smell of cheap cologne and cigarettes mixed into the thick blanket. Her mind retracing last night. The memory of his rough hands touching her skin made her grow warm inside.

Mila wouldn't allow anything more than soft kisses and misguided hands to explore her body. Still, if she hadn't been drinking - Mila is sure the only thing that would have happened was a nice hug and witty comments. Sitting up, Mila rubs her eyes, examining the empty spot next to her. That is right, Coco made the choice of sleep on the couch so there were no temptations to go any further.