Here's to Us(What If It's Us #2)(34)

But I’ve already put so much time into it that I want to cross the finish line. I still remember how amazing it felt to complete the very first draft, and to upload the final chapter on Wattpad. But the book has also changed so much—it changes as my life does. Hudsonien used to be a major relationship for Ben-Jamin, but as I’ve aged up the characters, Hudsonien is more backstory than main plot. The same goes for King Arturo, who doesn’t embark on epic journeys with Ben-Jamin anymore. King Arturo is still a pivotal character since he needs assistance tracking down a jeweled scepter as blue as his eyes and Ben-Jamin is the wizard for the job. I’ve gotten rid of all the kissing though—it felt weird writing about that since I’m no longer kissing his namesake.

Feels even weirder making Mario read about it.

I can’t thank Mario enough for how cool he was about the hangout. There’s no way Hudson could’ve gone the entire night without flipping out, and Arthur would’ve been really insecure. And I don’t blame them. But it feels nice that as I’m building something with Mario, my friendship with my ex-boyfriend won’t be an obstacle.

I need to hear his voice. See his face.

But I can’t right now.

I use the Forest app when I’m writing to measure how many minutes I’m actively working and to stay focused. Depending on how much time I spend on the app, I grow more trees for my forest. If I click out to check Instagram or call a cute guy, a tree dies. I’m trying really hard to let the ambient sounds of ocean waves keep my imagination afloat, but right now I would personally go outside with an ax and chop down a tree to call Mario. I’m at the start of this chapter where I’m thinking about writing Mario in as the new love interest—Mars E. Octavio, a swordsman with a charming smile and powers to understand any language, human or beast.

I exit the app—lo siento, dead tree—and try Mario on FaceTime. I smile immediately when he answers.

“Well, well,” Mario says. “Your timing is perfection.”

“Really?”

Mario smiles. He’s wearing those blue overalls that he painted Saturn on with rainbow rings. He holds up a bag of groceries. “Carlos sent me to the store because there’s been a change of plans tonight. There’s someone he wants me to meet.”

Immediately, my heart sinks. Is his uncle introducing him to some other guy?

“Oh, cool. Who?”

“Close Call Entertainment is working on this android thriller and the writer is coming over. I might get to pick his brain on some things,” Mario says. I’m immediately relieved it’s just a work-type thing. “Carlos didn’t want to tell me until I got here so I wouldn’t freak out.”

“That’s so amazing.” I’m embarrassed by how I was panicking over Mario meeting another guy. “So is Carlos going to cook?”

“I am, Alejo.” Mario stops on the corner of the street and looks both ways before crossing. “I’m going to make this pumpkin soup for everyone while my uncle cleans up the backyard. Everything will be cozy and I will not lose my mind over speaking to a cool screenwriter. Also, I love it here—look.” Mario flips the camera and shows me the bright blue sky and sunlight bouncing off a shiny black building.

“We’ve got some exciting weather here, too,” I say, aiming my phone toward my window and showing him the rain.

“Still?!”

“Still.”

We shift our cameras away from our skies and back on ourselves.

“Pop quiz, Alejo. ?Como se dice ‘rain’ en espa?ol?”

I know it’s a double-L word, but it’s not coming to me as quickly as I’d like. Then I remember how I thought it sounded like it would be a gorgeous spell to use in TWWW, or even a character name. “Lluvia?”

“Bien hecho.”

It feels weird being praised for such level-one vocabulary. I’m nineteen and learning what rain is for the first time. Even though my parents have spoken Spanish their entire lives, they didn’t teach it to me. I was willing, but between all the jobs they’ve worked they didn’t really have the time. Even though I know that speaking Spanish won’t make me any more Officially Puerto Rican than I already am, every new word I learn makes me feel less like a fraud.

Anyway, better to start with the basics now with the goal of being fluent in a few years.

“Alejo, my uncle is calling. He’s probably going to send me back to the grocery store to get more stuff. Can I call you later tonight?”

“I’ll—”

“You’ll be asleep! Three-hour difference. I’m in the past and you’re in the future.”

“I’m in your future,” I say. Then I shut up because I realize how this sounds. My face runs so hot I need a lluviastorm to cool me down.

“Yeah, you are,” Mario says with his weak wink. “Te veo luego, Alejo.”

“Catch you later, Colón.”

We hang up and I stare out the window. Dark cloudy skies. The same view of my neighborhood I’ve had my entire life. Same shoe repair store. Same park entrance down the block. Same apartment building across the street that’s clearly nicer than ours.

Whenever this world bores me, I go back to creating my own.

I write about Ben-Jamin finding Mars at a campfire that appears out of nowhere in the forest. The attraction is there, but the chemistry takes a while to grow, and I’m able to work in some solid slow-burn metaphors about magical potions brewing across full moons. Ben-Jamin needs Mars’s powers to communicate with a serpent known as a wavesnake that lives underwater, but I realize I’m undoing my measured pacing by making Ben-Jamin and Mars kiss in a field of crystal flowers. I need to slow it down. Don’t give the reader everything right away.