Chapter Six
Ethan
The Modelo beer rests between my hands and my eyes are glued to the television, but I have no idea what soccer teams are playing.
This is a bad idea.
I’ve repeated that same mantra minutes after I sent Blanca the text while I was in the shower, again when I picked out jeans and a T-shirt that make it look like I’m not trying too hard, and just for good measure again when I perfected my hair with gel.
It repeated in my mind like a bad commercial jingle while I swiped the keys off the counter and pocketed my cell phone on the way out the door.
Still, here I am at Las Tacos, waiting for Blanca to arrive.
At least I didn’t suggest picking her up from her apartment. I deserve points for that.
Tossing back another sip, my foot taps on the rail of my bar stool.
After Si
