Cemetery Boys(91)

“Anything you wish you’d done?”

The smile slipped. “A couple.”

This was a bad idea. Too much, too close, but when Julian leaned forward Yadriel didn’t want to pull away.

Yadriel’s lungs felt tight, like he was holding his breath too long underwater.

A voice in his head told him to stop. That he was getting in over his head. These were treacherous waters and wading into them would only end badly. But a much more powerful force dragged him down like an undertow.

Julian squinted, the angles of his face tight in concentration. Slowly, he brought his hand up to the side of Yadriel’s face, close, but not touching. His stormy eyes slid to Yadriel’s, holding a question. “?Me dejas robarte un beso?” he said softly, in the most agonizingly beautiful Colombian accent Yadriel had ever heard. It was pure and melodic, like a song.

Yadriel closed his eyes. He nodded.

Cold pressed to his cheek, sending shivers down his neck. He sucked in a breath. Julian’s palm cupped his cheek. He felt each icy finger pressed to the skin below his ear, the soft sweep of Julian’s thumb just below his eyelashes.

When he opened his eyes, Julian was staring back. The smoldering intensity made his skin flush.

Julian tilted his head. Cold nipped at Yadriel’s nose. A soft caress ghosted over his lips, and Yadriel let himself drown in it. It was unexpectedly gentle and sweetly slow. His skin flushed, hot and wanting, and Julian’s cool touch sent shivers rolling through him. Yadriel’s soul ached. He leaned closer, his hands reaching out, fingers wanting to knot into Julian’s jacket and pull him closer.

But they grasped at air. There was nothing to hold on to.

Buzz buzz-buzz.

A jolt yanked up Yadriel’s spine and he jerked away. The shuddering of his phone’s alarm shook in his back pocket. He scrambled away, arching his back to grab it. With clumsy fingers, he turned it off. “Jesus.” He pressed his hand against his chest. His heart hammered. The sharp edge of Julian’s medal cut into his palm.

Julian looked startled, his hand still hovering in the empty air.

“It’s my alarm,” Yadriel told him, trying to catch his breath. He had several messages from Maritza, asking where they were and when he’d be back. He stared up at Julian. His portaje poked uncomfortably into his lower back. “We need to head back or we won’t get there before midnight.”

Julian’s hand fell to his lap. He looked out over the water again. The wind tugged at his jacket. He closed his eyes and grinned. Below, the waves crashed. The moonlight painted him in shades of blue. His edges blurred like watercolors spilling outside of their lines.

“All right, patrón.” With one last deep breath, Julian slid off the hood. “Let’s go.”

Reluctantly, Yadriel got in the car and started driving back toward the city. Too quickly, the ocean faded from the rearview mirror.

It was too soon. Even if Julian was ready, Yadriel wasn’t.

With the windows rolled up, the car was comfortably warm. They fell into an easy quiet. A slow song filtered through the speakers, tinny and slow. Julian hummed along, his fingers tapping the beat out on the armrest.

Yadriel stole glances. When the chorus started, Julian sang along, voice soft and mostly off-key. Yadriel felt himself smile. Julian’s singing was terrible but endearing. People who sang in front of other people with no sense of self-consciousness were a specific and rare breed that Yadriel was decidedly not.

The singer’s voice dipped low, and Julian couldn’t follow, forcing the words to drown in his throat.

He chuckled, and Julian’s eyes flickered to his. The corners of Julian’s eyes crinkled as he smiled back.

Yadriel wanted to chase down the sunset. To not let it rise.

How long after he was gone would Yadriel be dreaming about Julian and this drive? Yadriel thought it would be worth the sleepless nights ahead.





TWENTY-ONE


Yadriel parked the Stingray a couple of streets over from the cemetery. Partly because the street was packed with cars—all the brujx families would be there to celebrate and welcome the spirits home tonight. Also to buy time until he figured out how to get it back to Rio. But that was a problem for the morning. Right now, he needed to get Julian and himself through the cemetery and back to the old church without being noticed.

“Just act natural,” Yadriel murmured as they approached the gate. With Día de Muertos little more than an hour away, there was enough spirit energy filling the air that Julian could go relatively unnoticed.

The doors stood wide open as people funneled in. Brujos stood by, greeting folks as they entered, but to also keep any outsiders from wandering into a brujo celebration, thinking it was a Halloween party.

Inside the gates, it was like walking into another world of golden light and color.

“Whoa,” Julian breathed in awe.

Candles lined all the paths and graves for as far as the eye could see. Towering arches adorned elaborately with marigolds stood at the heads of graves, sarcophagi, and mausoleums alike. Brightly colored banners of papel picado crisscrossed overhead. More marigolds and deep red-violet chrysanthemums lined walkways and covered dirt mounds. Bottles of rum stuffed with peppers, meant to warm the bones of the returning spirits, leaned against tombstones. The cemetery thrummed with energy and excitement. The air felt alive and electric, like before a thunderstorm.