The Chaos of Stars

“Trust me. Once you’ve had carne asada fries, you will never go back. It’s like a burrito threw up on a plate of cheap french fries.”

“You do realize that’s the least appealing description of anything, ever.”

“Patience, young grasshopper. Soon you will understand.”

The girl behind the counter leans up to the open window between the cash registers and the kitchen area to grab our food. “That boy is the most beautiful man I have ever seen,” she says in low, sweet Spanish to the girl handing forward the containers.

The girl in the kitchen smiles, her dark eyes flashing. “Should I have messed up his food so he’ll have to come back to the counter?”

“Yes! I want to look at him more. Is it too late?” Her hands hover over the Styrofoam lids, like she doesn’t want to commit to handing us our completed order.

I snort into my drink, choking as the carbonation goes down wrong. If only Ry knew what they were saying. I get hit on, sure, but it’s nothing to what Ry has to deal with on a daily basis. The more I’m around him, the more I realize he wasn’t actually exaggerating.

The counter girl looks at me nervously. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks in English.

I answer in Spanish. “No, thanks, but if you want, we can sit where you can see him better.”

“Your, uh, boyfriend?”

“Oh, no. He’s a friend. But it’s okay to look at friends, right?”

She grins at me and nods. “Come back again soon,” she says, in English, with a lingering look at Ry.

He’s been staring studiously out the front window the whole time. “Hey, I forgot my notebook at the museum. Okay to eat there instead? We can have a picnic.”

“Sure.” I grab utensils and shoot an apologetic smile at the counter girl as we walk out into the warm, ocean-heavy, late-afternoon air.

“You speak Spanish?” Ry holds my door open as I climb into his truck, and he hands me the food.

“Oh, yeah. Very well-rounded homeschooling.”

“Hmmm.” He closes my door and gets in on the other side.

I have a rather horrid thought. “Do you speak Spanish?”

“I speak Greek, English, Arabic, and a little bit of Girl.”

Relieved, I rest my head against the seat, the food’s heat almost uncomfortable against my thighs. Then I realize he didn’t actually answer my question. “Hablas español,” I say, glaring at him.

He grins but says nothing.

“You jerk!” How does he speak so many languages? Apparently the chatter about the American school systems is wrong. They are seriously doing their job.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you all chose to talk about me in a language you assumed I didn’t speak. Which, in this area, is a very unsafe assumption since most everyone speaks at least a little Spanish.”

“But you encouraged the assumption!”

“I didn’t want the cashier to feel awkward. Plus now I know you’re okay with the fact that I really enjoy looking at you.”

“I am—you’re not—that’s not what I said.”

“And I quote: ‘But it’s okay to look at friends.’”

I will not blush. I will not blush. I will not blush. “I can engage in a clinical assessment of physical features. It’s possible to recognize attractiveness without being attracted.”

“What is wrong with being attracted to someone? It’s a natural thing.”

“Yes, well, cancer is a natural thing, and we try our best to kill it.”