He smelled like trouble I wanted to get into.

When he drew his hand from the compartment, he held a thin looking cigarette between his fingers. When he lit up the end, and the smell filled the small space, realization dawned.

“Are you addicted?” His glare made me wish I could disappear inside the leather seat.

“I smoke on occasion,” he answered. Then he reached out, and I might have squeaked. I breathed out just as his hand passed my face, and he stared at it momentarily before shaking his hand and pulling my seatbelt across. “You should wear a seatbelt.”

“You shouldn’t smoke weed.”

He assaulted me with that intimidating stare of his again. “There are many things I shouldn’t do that I may not be able to help, Mian.”

I shivered. It was my name and the way he spoke, almost like a caress even when he was threatening or scolding me. I couldn’t tell which was happening now.

“Meaning?”

He laughed and shifted his body until he was fully on his side once again and drove off. “Meaning, you aren’t ready to know what I mean.”

He didn’t speak to me again during the two-hour car ride. During the beginning, I was content to watch him slip the blunt between his lips over and over until it was gone.

He never slowed until we pulled into the driveway that belonged to a large white colonial home with black shutters. There was a small balcony above the large porch. It was held up by four white pillars. The neighborhood seemed serene with more two-story homes lining the street on either side.

Angel reached inside the compartment again, but this time, his forearm brushed my knee when he pulled out a can of body spray. He sprayed himself, and I recognized the scent from before, which put my senses back on high alert.

“Come on,” he spoke for the first time in two hours.

I followed after him when he left the car and climbed the couple of steps to the porch. “Who lives here?”

“Me.” He stuck a key in the door.

“You have a house?” I whispered incredulously. Angel was only twenty-one.

“I live here with my parents,” he clarified.

“Why am I here?” I asked warily.

“My mom wants to meet you.” I sucked in air and rooted my feet to the porch. There wasno wayI was going in there.

When he opened the door, he grabbed my hand as if he read my thoughts, and pulled me inside. My hands started to sweat, and I felt my heart beating faster. I told myself there was no reason to be nervous. I wasn’t his girlfriend. Because of our ages, we might as well have been worlds apart.

“Angeles?” A woman’s voice called out.

I dug my feet in.

He tugged me harder.

“It’s me,” he greeted. Soft footsteps drew closer.

I wanted to run for the door.

A woman around my height appeared. She was modestly dressed in a yellow and white sundress with her blonde hair hanging down her back, teasing her waistline. Her bright, blue eyes were curious as she took me in.

I simply stared back.

“When my son said he was bringing someone home, you were not what I was expecting.” I tensed even more and felt Angel squeeze my hand. She smiled and pulled me away from Angel and into a hug. Despite her kind gesture, I couldn’t relax. She stepped back to study me, but her expression was troubled. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

She regarded her son with disapproval. “She’s a little young for you, isn’t she, Angeles?” Her welcoming tone was gone and replaced with a hard edge. While I felt sorry for Angel, he didn’t appear bothered.

“This is Mian,” he answered as if that explained everything.

Her eyes watered as her hand covered her mouth. “I should have recognized the resemblance. Oh, my… You look just like your mother.”

I sucked in air. I used to beam with pride whenever someone compared me to my mother, which was often. Now, it just hurt.

“You knew my mother?”

“Knew her? She was my best friend.”

My stomach twisted in knots.

I heard her ordering Angel to bring water. I felt her hand on my arm and the plush cushion beneath me as I sunk into it. Through it all, I couldn’t find my voice. So many questions fought for dominance.

“I didn’t mean to shock you. Are you okay?”

“She never mentioned you,” I blurted.

Regret was evident in her features when she sighed and took my hand. “I don’t doubt it. We fell out our senior year of high school, and I never saw her again.”

“Why?”

“Because we were in love with the same man.”

I snatched my hand from hers and moved away. “Excuse me?”

She didn’t seem surprised by my rejection. “Arturo was every girl’s dream come true. He was older, popular, and the apple of every girl’s eye.” Her gaze lost focus as she became caught up in the memories. “Your mother was the one who had more than a crush on him. She was in love.”