“Beer?” Julian asked, gesturing to large boxes of cheap beer that had been ripped open, spilling cans from their torn mouths.
“No,” Yadriel said, tense with even more discomfort, if that were possible. There were several reasons he hated going to parties, one of them being the pressure to drink.
Julian looked around at a Styrofoam cooler and several handles of liquor stuck in the sand. “They’ve probably got tequila or somethin’—”
“I don’t drink,” Yadriel all but growled. He half expected Julian to guffaw or try to goad him into it. He braced himself, ready to argue on his own behalf.
Instead, Julian just nodded. “My bad!”
And then he was off to the next thing that caught his attention, leaving Yadriel standing there.
He watched Julian as he wandered off toward a girl in a corn costume who had elote in stacks on catering trays she was selling for a dollar. Deflated, Yadriel wondered if he’d ever stop being surprised by Julian Diaz.
He wove between people, trying to keep up as Julian coaxed him deeper into the crowd. Yadriel wanted to reach out and catch hold of his arm, to drag him closer, but he couldn’t. He had to wedge himself between a pair with elaborate masks of rubber and fur, one a wolf, the other a jaguar. He nearly stumbled right through Julian.
“I keep losing you!” he shouted, and Julian had to lean down to hear him. The music blared in Yadriel’s ears, but Julian was entirely unaffected.
“This is my FAVORITE song!” Julian said, his cold breath tickling Yadriel’s cheek.
“I thought the one in the car was your favorite song?” Yadriel asked.
Julian only shrugged, grinning ear to ear, painfully charming.
The loud, pulsing music thumped in Yadriel’s chest like a second heartbeat. He could feel it in his bones. The music was devouring, making it impossible for Yadriel to doubt or second-guess himself as he swayed to the beat. The close press of bodies normally would’ve made Yadriel’s skin crawl. But, right now, the jostling was reassuring, like being nudged by ocean waves, lulled into an ebb and flow.
Julian’s hips rolled, his head bobbed. Eyes closed and smiling, the firelight danced over his skin. Yadriel was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. To his foolhardy charm and striking features. Julian was achingly beautiful, but in the way a thunderstorm was beautiful—wild, rough, electric.
And bound to leave devastation in his wake.
A dancing couple almost separated them again, but Yadriel and Julian surged toward each other at the same time. Julian pressed close, and Yadriel shivered. A thrill shot up his spine, robbing him of breath.
There was loud singing and bursts of laughter. Push and pull. Hot breath and shuddering chills. Biting ocean breeze on sweltering skin. Julian’s white teeth and dimples melted away to heavy-lidded eyes and parted lips.
Yadriel let his eyes fall shut, in a heady daze. Icy fingers fit against his hip. They ghosted over the pulse in his neck. He pressed closer still, hungry and aching. Heat rushed low in his stomach. He wanted to reach out and hold on tight.
Suddenly, bright lights flashed across Yadriel’s vision. When he opened his eyes, flashlight beams cut through the crowd. The music ended. Everyone stood there in a daze, the spell broken. A confused murmur rose in the group. “Cops!” a voice rang out, followed by others.
Voices crackled over loudspeakers, reciting that it was illegal to have glass containers or alcohol on the beach, and that a permit was required for parties over fifty people. They sounded bored. This was likely just one of many parties to be broken up along the beach that evening.
People scattered, and someone booed, but Julian just laughed, his face lit with excitement.
But Yadriel did not need to be stopped by the cops when there was a stolen car a hundred yards away. “Come on!” he shouted.
They ran, stumbling over mounds of sand, laughing hard and unable to stand upright. They sprinted for the car, shoes slipping on sand-covered concrete. Yadriel threw himself into the Stingray, and she roared back to life. They took off, flying down the PCH.
Julian whooped.
Yadriel yanked his mask down and hunched over the steering wheel, laughing so hard his cheeks hurt.
Julian directed Yadriel to a lookout point. It was just a gravel turnout on top of a seaside cliff. Yadriel pulled up to the short guardrail, beyond which the craggy cliff face cascaded down.
They got out and climbed onto the hood. The metal was still hot from the engine. It kept Yadriel warm as the crisp ocean breeze rushed in. It rustled the bowing palm trees. He could feel sand in his hair and clinging to his skin. The lights of fishing boats winked out in the sea of black. The moonlight bounced off the distant water. Waves threw themselves against the jagged rocks in lazy rhythm, crashing and rolling. The spray tickled Yadriel’s face. His lips tasted like salt. It was almost enough to lull him to sleep.
“My dad used to drive us up here,” Julian said quietly at Yadriel’s side.
Yadriel tilted his head. Julian sat with his feet planted on the hood of the car. His chin was propped on his folded arms, resting on his knees. His dark eyes stared up.
“Best view of the stars,” he said, squinting one eye shut as he held his palm up, lining up the sparse stars between his fingers. The orange haze of the city lights chased them off to the horizon, where the sky turned inky-black.
Yadriel watched him silently for a moment, quite liking the mental picture of Julian, his dad, and his brother up there, admiring the view. A trio of boys from East Los Angeles stargazing in Malibu.
“Who are the pictures of?” Yadriel asked, rolling onto his side and leaning his cheek against his fist.
“Pictures?”
“Yeah.” Yadriel jerked his chin toward the pocket on the dashboard. “In the car.”
“Oh!” Julian slid off the hood and leaned in through the open window. There was some rustling and then he was back, scooting up next to Yadriel.
“Just old pictures of us and our dad.”
Yadriel sat up. They sat cross-legged, facing each other.
“That’s him,” Julian said, holding the picture for Yadriel to see. Yadriel had never heard him speak with such gentle warmth.
Julian’s dad stood in the center of the photo. He was tall and lean with a buzzed head and some sparse facial hair. His eyes squinted as he flashed his teeth at the camera, somewhere between a laugh and a growl. He held up Julian and Rio under each arm, flexing his strength in front of what Yadriel recognized as the mechanic shop.
“He looks nice,” Yadriel said, unable to keep from smiling.
“He was,” Julian agreed, beaming.
“What’s his name?”
“Ramon,” Julian told him, his tongue rolling through the r.
Julian couldn’t have been older than ten. He was doubled over, knees tucked and gripping his dad’s arm as he was held aloft, laughing hard. It was possible Ramon was tickling him, his large hand across Julian’s chest, his fingers pressed into that sensitive spot under the collarbone.
“Oh man.” Yadriel laughed. “Look at your hair!” Instead of being shaved down, younger Julian’s hair was a mass of unruly, tight curls.
“Photogenic as hell, right?” Julian grinned. “Rio’s always been a bit camera shy.”
Rio was held under his dad’s other arm. He was smiling, but his lips were pressed together. He clung to his dad’s shoulder, his face partially turned away from the camera and toward Ramon’s chest.
Yadriel took the stack of photos and thumbed through the rest. One was of Ramon and Rio leaning over the popped hood of an old Cadillac. Ramon was pointing at something, and Rio’s face was very serious, studious. Meanwhile, Julian was off to the side, scooting around on one of those wooden creepers mechanics used to get under cars.
There were some school pictures, too. Rio sat with a straight back, another tight-lipped smile, and a tie done neatly around his neck. In contrast, Julian’s eyes were squinted shut and he was smiling in a way that looked like he was trying to show all his teeth at once. His tie was loose and crooked, the left side of his collar sticking up.
In another photo, they sat in a line on the curb. Julian and Rio sat between Ramon and Carlos—the man Julian had said owned the shop with his father. Ramon sat next to Rio, grinning at the camera while Rio smiled up at him. Carlos was on the other side, a finger hooked over his chin as it jutted forward, mean-mugging the camera. He leaned onto Julian, who bent under the weight of his arm, laughing as he tried to push him off.
Yadriel stared at the boy sitting next to him. A boy with a bright smile and an easy laugh. Who liked skateboarding the streets of Los Angeles and stargazing on the roof of his dad’s car. Who would do anything to protect his friends. Reckless and brilliant.
The aching in Yadriel threatened to swallow him whole. Julian was still there, but Yadriel’s body was already mourning the loss.
But he knew this wasn’t sustainable. No one was meant to last as a spirit floating between two worlds, but especially not Julian. He was a boy made of fire who’d been turned to frost. He was meant to burn.
“This isn’t how I would’ve pictured someone wanting to spend their last day,” Yadriel said, fiddling with Julian’s medal around his neck. “But it’s very … you.”
Julian cast him a narrow-eyed look. “Uh, thanks?”