you smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles in your skirt, staring upwards into the large led sign that illuminated half the block. ROXANNE. with a sigh, you follow your older brother and cochi towards the entrance, voicing your complaints once again.

“no entiendo que hacemos aquí, joaquín. no que traes bronca con estos tipos? además, dijiste que ya íbamos pa la casa.” [i don’t understand why we’re here, joaquín. don’t you have beef with these guys? plus, you said we were going home already.] you cross your arms, glaring.

“si, ya pues, no nos tardamos. sólo tenemos algo qué hablar con él pinché amado, vente.” [yes, okay, we won’t take long. we just have something to talk about with fucking amado, c’mon.]

he completely cuts off the line, whispering something inaudible to the security, who gives the three of you once overs before unclasping the velvet rope and stepping aside.

you follow the two men inside, a frown on your face as you hear the music at full blast and take in the amount of people packed inside the disco. you look around, trying to find a section that isn’t as crowded and to your surprise, it’s the bar that isn’t surrounded by everyone.

you place a hand on your brother’s shoulder, practically yelling over the music that you’re gonna go get something to drink.

he nods, “‘ta bueno, solo no te me pierdas chamaca. allí está amado, no me tardo.” [it’s alright, just don’t go getting lost, kid. there’s amado, i won’t take long.]

you roll your eyes whilst smiling and nod before making your way over. one of the bartender immediately takes notice of you, offering to make you a drink.

“nomas agua, por favor,” [only water, please.] you smile politely, handing him two bills.

he nods, quickly setting a glass of water with a straw in front of you before moving on to serve others.

a couple minutes go by, you sipping on the cool water occasionally as you observe everyone. chapo and cochi are still seated with amado, drinks in hand as they all discuss something. though you notice your brother’s eyes turn to you from time to time, making sure you’re okay. everyone around them is dancing, laughing, generally having a good time. no doubt many of them high out of their minds, as well as drunk.

just as your gaze is shifting upwards to the second level, a woman who looks like a waiter approaches you, tray in hand. she sets a glass of which you presume is alcohol in front of you, smiling.

“disculpe—” [excuse me—]

she cuts you off before you can get another word out. “te lo manda ramón,” [ramón sent it.] she smiles once again, motioning for a second to the upper level before walking off. you scoff to yourself. right, like you were supposed to know who that was.

still puzzled, you look up, immediately locking eyes with who you have no doubt is this so-called ramón. he’s leaning against the balcony, beer in hand, a small smirk on his face as he looks at you intently. it almost feels like he’s staring into your soul, and while it unsettles you, you can’t help but find it... attractive? you have to admit, he’s handsome—long dark hair, seemingly tall, intense eyes. while you were busy watching everyone else in the club, he had caught sight of you.

you realize you’ve been looking directly at him a little too long, quickly turning away and picking up the drink to take a sip. but before you know it, he’s walking down the steps, towards you.

his voice catches you off guard despite you expecting him, almost making you jump out of your skin. “nunca te he visto por aquí. como te llamas?” [i’ve never seen you around here. what’s your name?]

you turn to face him, looking up to meet his eyes. his face is more clear now, and you realize he’s even more attractive up close. his eyes are a deep brown and he has a slightly long, pointed nose, but it’s cute. you can also see his barely-there facial hair from this proximity, which suits him—makes him look a little more mature, despite his baby face.

you give him a shy smile, purposely dodging the second question with your short reply, “no soy de por aquí. sólo ando visitando con mi hermano.” [i’m not from around here. i’m just visiting with my brother.]

he looks more intrigued, a flirtatious smile appearing on his face. “con tu hermano? entonces no tienes novio?” [with your brother? so you don’t have a boyfriend?]

a small laugh escapes your mouth as you shake your head. “no, no tengo novio.” [no, i don’t have a boyfriend.]

ramón’s smile widens upon hearing your laugh. “enserio? estando tan chula y ningún pendejo ha intentado hacerte su novia?” [seriously? being as gorgeous as you are and no dumbass has tried to take you out?]

blood rushes to your cheeks at the compliment as you fight the urge to smile. it’s just flattery in hopes of taking you home, you know this. you try to ignore the part of you convincing yourself that he looks genuine. “pues créelo… sabes, nunca me diste tu nombre.” [well believe it… you know, you never gave me your name.]

“no te dijo la mecerá?” [didn’t the waiter tell you?] he raised his brows, still smiling, almost teasingly.

you rolls your eyes playfully, shrugging. “solo ramón.” [only ramón.]

“pues ahí ta. ramón arellano.” [well there you have it. ramón arellano.]

it was almost as if a shock went through your body the moment you heard that last name, making you freeze. arellano. arellano félix. all the times you heard your brother cursing that name out flashed through your mind. now that you think about it, you heard “pinché ramón” a couple times. how could that have slipped your mind? here you were, fucking flirting with your brother’s enemy. the man that he had a deep hatred for.

the hand on your arm snapped you out of your thoughts, making you look up to a slightly concerned ramón. “oye, ‘tás bien?” [hey, you okay?]

“si, disculpa… sólo—” [yeah, sorry… it’s just—] you don’t even get a chance to try to explain who you are before your brother is yelling, pushing past the crowds of people to get to the two of you, making a fucking scene. ramón’s expression goes from confused to furious in only a matter of seconds, all with his hand still on your arm.

“ramón, hijo de tu reputa madre! que chingados haces con mi hermana?! aléjate de ella antes que te parta toda tu pinche madre!” [ramón, son of a fucking bitch! what the fuck do you with you’re doing with my sister?! get away from her before i beat your fucking ass!] you grimace inwardly as chapo storms over, pulling you away from ramón roughly. you try to pull your arm back, but your brother’s grip is vice-like, it actually hurts you.

despite ramón being livid, he laughs in chapo’s face. “no pues como iba saber si no se parecen pa nada, ta bien buena tu hermanita. como iba pensar que eras tu su hermano, pinche feo chaparro.” [no well how was i supposed to know if you don’t look alike at all? your little sister’s fine as hell. how was i gonna think you were her brother, you ugly short fuck.]

ramón’s attention is back on you when he hears you let out a wince of pain as you nudge chapo, who’s now fuming. “joaquín—” you try to get his attention, make him at least loosen his grip.

before either you or chapo can say anything else, ramón throws a right hook to your brother’s face, making him let go of your arm immediately and stumble back upon impact. “la estás lastimando imbécil!” [you’re hurting her, idiot!]

you’re standing completely frozen as the fight fully breaks out, not knowing what the hell to do as your brother launches himself at ramón. it’s amado who pulls you away from the scene as cochi and ramón’s people jump in as well. the sound of bottles shattering and chairs clattering rings in your ears, making you flinch.

amado’s grumbling as he leads you out of the club. “pinshes crías, no se pueden controlar por un momento, p‘ta madre. ‘tas bien, mija?” [fucking children, can’t control themselves for one moment, fucking hell. you okay, kid?]

you nod, frowning to yourself. “no sabía quien era. pues, que era arellano…” [i didn’t know who he was. well, that he was an arellano…]

you don’t know what else to say, but amado doesn’t expect anything else, only nods. “ira mija, sus pinshes broncas no son tuyas. es su pedo. esos pendejos solo se pelean por pelear—para demostrar quién tiene los huevos más grande,” he snorts. “tu no te preocupes.” [look, kid, their stupid fucking beef isn’t yours. it’s their problem. those assholes just fight for the hell of it—to show the other they have bigger balls. don’t worry about it.]

—

“adonde ‘tá la fiesta, según tu?” [where’s this party at, according to you?] your gaze is focused outside the window, watching the passing buildings and people.

“ay, no te preocupes, ya casi llegamos! es en la discoteca más popular en la ciudad, te prometo que te vas a divertir. y quien sabe, hasta te puedes encontrar a alguien.” [don’t worry, we’re almost there! it’s in the hottest club in the city, i promise you’re gonna have fun. who knows, you might even meet someone.] your friend, irene, grinned, perfectly manicured fingers tapping along the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing.

“ojalá. aver si te cogen tan rico que se te quita lo amargada,” [hopefully. maybe someone can fuck the bitterness out of you.] monica giggled, making irene laugh loudly.

you rolled your eyes, flashing your middle finger behind you to monica. it’d taken a lot of convincing to get you out of your house, which usually wasn’t needed but the semester was almost over and your work load had doubled. for the past two weeks, if you weren’t on campus, you were holed up in your room writing papers and final proposals. between the two complaining about how boring you were being and making a point of fall break commencing in a couple days, they managed to convince you to spend the weekend with them in tijuana, where irene was from.

which is how you ended up in front of roxanne, once again, ten minutes later. hottest club in the city. of course.

“no mames,” [you’re fucking with me.] you mumbled under your breath as irene parked. for a second you thought—hoped—maybe the arellano’s wouldn’t be here, but who were you kidding. it was a friday, and they owned the damn place. of course they were there.

as you got out of the car, trailing behind your two friends, you just hoped and prayed you wouldn’t run into them.

“apúrale!” [hurry up!] monica groaned, grabbing your wrist and practically dragging you to the entrance.

the three of you skip the line all thanks to irene, who usually only has to utter her last name to get in anywhere. as you walk by, you notice the security’s gaze still on you before he finally turns and says something inaudible to the man next to him. it was odd and unnerving, but you chose to ignore it.

“mira, ahí están mis amigos!” [look, there are my friends!] irene pointed to a crowded table of guys, a few accompanied by a girl on their lap or side. you raised your brows, your face immediately giving away your thoughts: unimpressed. irene simply gave you the look and took a hold of your hand as an indication to follow her. the i’m-about-to-try-to-set-you-up-with-some-guy, please-don’t-be-a-bitch look. you knew it all too well. nevertheless, you let her lead both you and monica to their section.

“y el cumpleañero?” [where’s the birthday boy?] irene grinned, side-hugging one of the guys.

“aquí. que ya me extrañabas?” [right here. what, missed me already?] a voice came from behind you, making you turn immediately. the man in front of you was pretty cute; short curly hair, light eyes, a warm smile that was now directed to you instead of irene. in his hands he held a couple beers, which he set in front of his friends before hugging irene briefly.

“no te creas.” [you wish.] she laughed, rolling her eyes before pulling both you and monica closer. “bueno, les presento a mis amigas. ya conocen a mony, no?” [anyways, meet my friends. some of you already know mony, right?]

you smiled briefly as she introduced all of her friends to you and monica, who immediately took interest in one of them, leaving your side. soon after, irene left you alone with santi with some lame excuse about seeing an old friend by the bar. you wanted to roll your eyes at how painfully obvious she was as she winked at you before strutting away.

“no te preocupes, irene ya me amenazo si no te cuido,” [don’t worry, irene already threatened me if i don’t take care of you,] santi chuckled, noticing your annoyance at being left by her. “te puedo agarrar algo? una cerveza, agua?” [can i get you something? a beer, water?]

this time you couldn’t refrain from rolling your eyes at your friend’s antics, chuckling all the while. “lo siento—por ella. no le hagas caso.” [i’m sorry about her, don’t pay her any mind.] you gave him a small smile before taking him up on his offer. “una cerveza esta bien.” [a beer’s fine.]

he nodded, shooting you a wide smile before walking to the bar. two minutes later, he set a bottle of victoria in front of you before taking a seat next to you, continuing the conversation. you tried to hide how uninterested you were with the occasional nods and smiles, but you were bored out of your mind. you cursed irene internally for leaving you with this guy. at first-glance alone you knew it wouldn’t work out. although handsome, he had the whole rich daddy’s boy look going on, which would be the complete opposite of your “type” if you had one. those usually came with a certain personality—entitled asshole—and while his was toned down, it was certainly still there.

while he droned on, your eyes drifted away from his face and around the disco. you searched for irene for a while… but soon your mind absentmindedly drifted off to a certain long-haired, lanky male.

ramón wasn’t within your view, but you were the center of his attention as soon as you stepped foot inside the disco. hell, he’d been made aware of your presence before you were even in. it’s been weeks since the incident, and he’d been in a mood since—about not seeing you again, about chapo warning him to stay away. of course he wasn’t going to do that. he’d made sure he was the first to know if you even came within the same vicinity as him.

he’d watched the entire interaction between you and santi. at first, he was upset because you seemed to be flirting with him. but as he looked between the two of you, he noticed you become uninterested. then, he saw santi lean in closer, too close for his comfort. his fingers flexed around the grip of his gun, tightening his hold before deciding to finally go down to your section.

you didn’t notice him until he was only a mere foot away from your table, behind santi. everything around you became abnormally quiet—that was, for a club—the chaotic cheering, singing, and chatter within your space ceased. you supposed everyone was simply interested in what ramón was about to do, but they were nervous as well. many of them knew too well it was unwise to be around the male when he was angry, and judging by his body language, he was furious.

yet, the explosion everyone was expecting never came. there was no yelling, no punches being thrown. when ramón’s intense gaze shifted from santi to you, his lips curled up into a fucking smile. it was a sweet, genuine smile, as if he were truly happy to see you. he continued smiling, smugly now, as he raised the weapon in his hold to santi’s jaw and leaned in to mutter something in the poor guy’s ear. all you managed to hear was “acercas” [get near] and “te meto un tiro” [put a bullet in you], but whatever else ramón said had santi near-pissing himself in fear.

the smile never left ramón’s face as he leaned back, tapping the barrel of the firearm against santi’s face again, this time speaking aloud. “estamos?” [we good?]

a pale-faced santi simply nodded, flinching when ramón clapped a hand against his shoulder in what should’ve been a friendly gesture but felt extremely threatening under the circumstances. “bueno—santiago es? disfruta el resto de tu noche.” [well—santiago is it? enjoy the rest of your night.]

before ramón even processed it, you were on your feet, attempting to rush past him. or more so past the scene he’d just made. call it your survival instinct. not only did you loathe being the center of attention, but you couldn’t have this getting back to your brother. joaquín was already mad enough from the first incident, he’d given you tu buena regañada [a scolding], as if you were a fucking child. demanded you never go near any arellano again. and now, this. seriously, what the hell was ramón’s problem?

a hand grasping your arm stopped you in your tracks, making you spin around furiously. you were met with an amused ramón. “adonde con tanta prisa?” [where to in such a hurry?]

“que chingados fue eso?” [what the fuck was that?] you try to pull away but he manages to tug you closer while walking away from everyone, towards a door near the bar. you stupidly allow him to lead you into what looks like an office, justifying it with simply wanting an explanation.

he shuts the door behind you, which is when you realize he has you backed against the wall. “no parecías muy interesada en ese güey,” [you didn’t seem all to interested in that asshole,] he shrugged, as if it were that simple. “estabas aburrida.” [you were bored.]

“aburrida.” [bored.] you scoffed, tearing your gaze away from his, on the verge of squirming under his stare. you didn’t want to seem scared of him. you weren’t scared of him. nervous about his intentions, maybe, but not scared.

you crossed your arms over your chest, putting a little distance between the two of you, raising a brow at him in question. “y como sabrías que estaba desinteresada? igual me podría aver caído bien. me podría aver gustado.” [and how would you know that i was uninterested? i could’ve thought he was sweet. i could’ve liked him.]

ramón’s jaw clenched for a moment before he let out a chuckle, as if the mere idea was amusing. “porque te he visto interesada. y una persona interesada no le quita los ojos a alguien para buscar a otro,” [because i’ve seen you interested. and someone interested doesn’t take their eyes off their date to look for someone else,] he stared down at you, cocky smirk adorning his lips. “o lo vas a negar?” [or are you going to deny it?]

you couldn’t, because he was right. it was fucking with your head, how much you were drawn to him, after a single encounter. you both felt an indescribable pull. the cynical part of your brain wanted to laugh at your romantic foolishness because, c’mon, what was this, a fairytale? love at first sight? that wasn’t real. but maybe you didn’t have to listen to rationality this once.

without giving it another thought, your hand wrapped around his shirt collar, tugging him down. the two of you kissed with a sense of urgency, rough and passionate all at once, hands all over each other. his hands trailed down to your hips, pulling you flush against him. his hold was rough, tight in a way that would leave bruises, as if he were afraid you might slip away.

soon enough, ramón was hoisting you up, large hands gripping your ass as you wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. you pulled away slowly to regain your breath, giving him the opportunity to nip at your jaw before leaving a trail of kisses down to your neck.

“ramón,” you let out a breathy moan as he began to suck on the skin above your collarbone. surely that’d leave a very visible mark, but that’s exactly what he wanted. “espera, mi hermano—” [wait, my brother—]

he pulled away, coming face to face with you once again, his lips ghosting over your own. “me vale lo que piense tu hermano,” [i could care less what your brother thinks,] came his reply as he pulled you into a deep kiss.

—

as expected, there were consequences to your recklessness. not that it made you regret anything—it just made you resent your brother.

word gets around fast between the plazas and their people. by the next day, chapo knew his little sister had disappeared with ramón arellano from what was supposed to be a night out with her friends. hellbent on murdering the younger arellano brother, chapo showed up the family home in tijuana, only to discover that you had gone willingly. he took it as a betrayal, of course.

ever since, he refused to let you leave the house alone. you’re either accompanied by him or one of his guys. you’re like a goddamn prisoner. it’s been useless trying to reason with him, so you’ve just accepted it.

you would’ve thought ramón would stop trying to seek you out after that night, especially with your brother’s constant threats, but he does the opposite. he doesn’t let joaquín’s little guard dogs stop him, either. he constantly shows up at the university campus when you’re there, somehow sneaking past chapo’s men’s sights to pay you quick little visits —whether it be in the library or even the woman’s bathroom. the amount of times he’s sneaked into a lecture and pretended to be a student actually makes the professors start to believe he is, which you find hilarious.

it’d been at least two weeks since you last saw him though, and you missed him, as much as you hated to admit it. in turn, it made you angrier with your brother.

speaking of who, was now hovering above you, saying something. his voice was muffled by the song playing through your headphones, but you didn’t bother to turn it down. instead of going away like you’d hoped, he snatched the headphones off, making you sit up immediately. “que chingados te pasa, joaquín,” [what the fuck is your problem,] you scowled.

“bájale a eso chamaca, que ni me puedes escuchar,” [turn that shit down kid, you can’t hear a thing,] he simply rolled his eyes, throwing them back on your lap. “y que te alistes porque vamos a salir.” [and get ready because we’re going out.]

“eso es el punto,” [that’s the point,] you grumbled. “y no quiero ir adonde sea que vallas.” [and i don’t want to go wherever it is you’re going.]

“que chistosa, porque no recuerdo dándote opción. no te voy a dejar aquí solita. alístate ya, que es la fiesta de miguel ángel y el güero me está esperando.” [that’s funny, because i don’t remember giving you an option. im not leaving you here alone. get ready now, cause it’s miguel angel’s party and güero’s waiting for me.] with that, he walked out of the bedroom.

as soon as the door shut behind him, you got up to rummage through your closet. if it was miguel ángel’s party, that meant the arellano brothers might show up. maybe you weren’t so upset about being dragged along after all.

thirty minutes later, joaquín was rushing you out of the house, barely giving you enough time to grab your purse and put your heels on.

“que ya voy!” [i said i’m going!] you yelled back at him as he told you to hurry up for the 10th time. your heels clacked loudly against the floor as you hurried out the door, letting it shut behind you.

as you made your way into the car, you were greeted by güero, guadalupe, and cochi. guadalupe turned in her seat, planting a kiss on your cheek as you did the same, the usual warm smile on her face. “que guapa te ves, mija.” [you look so beautiful, honey.]

“gracias, lupita,” [thanks,] you grinned, settling back into the seat beside joaquín and cochi. “tu igual!” [you too!]

the drive wasn’t too long, but by the time you arrived to the palace that was miguel ángel’s house, it had already gotten dark. you stepped out of the car, trailing your brother as he walked into the party under way. cochi and him were babbling excitedly about the gift they had gotten miguel ángel, some huge surprise apparently.

you looked around, enthralled by the beautiful leds and decorations, which casted a blueish-purple light on everyone. those near the dj booth were dancing along to the music, others simply standing around and having a drink.

you sipped on your own glass as you stood alongside joaquín, cochi, and amado, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. you tried not to seem disappointed when you didn’t spot him, instead opting to listen to their conversation—just as amado was leaving.

“ahorita nos vemos,” [see you later,] the older man patted cochi’s shoulder before disappearing back into the sea of people.

güero and guadalupe were now back as well, drinks now in their hands as they looked directly past you. “ay miren nomás a estos aguachiles cabrones,” [just look at these two motherfuckers,] güero’s voice brought your attention to where his own sight was set, along with chapo and cochi. the five of you looked ahead, focusing on two specific figures.

ramón and benjamín.

ramón and you locked eyes immediately. he looked surprised by the mere sight of you, doing a visible double-take as his eyes raked over you. he visibly relaxed his tense shoulders, the corners of his mouth threatening to quirk up in a smile. a small smile creeped up on your own face at his reaction, making you bow your head slightly in hopes that joaquín didn’t catch the interaction. ramón seemed to remember who you were accompanied by as well, because he quickly regained his defensive posture, staring instead at your brother.

“los putitos de tijuana decidieron venir.” [the tijuana pussies decided to make an appearance.] you refrained from rolling your eyes at the stupid comment, knowing joaquín was looking at you now.

“ya nos vamos a sentar, no?” [we should go sit down now, no?] guadalupe spoke up, breaking the tense silence. güero immediately agreed, taking her hand in his and leading you all to the backyard, where the tables were set up alongside a dance floor. you and guadalupe sat beside one of her friends while güero went to get her another drink.

cochi and joaquín went off, mentioning something about the boss’ gift and making sure everything was ready. it surprised you when your brother left you alone with lupita, but you supposed he just trusted her enough to do so. that or the couple of beers and shots he already had were allowing him to have his guard down and forget about ramón for a second.

“ahorita vengó,” [i’ll be right back,] you lightly touched lupita’s arm, standing up. “voy al baño.” [i’m going to the bathroom.]

she nodded in acknowledgment as you walked away, back into the giant house to search for the nearest bathroom. just as you were opening the door, someone came from behind you, grabbing you by your waist and spinning you around. you let out a screech, completely taken by surprise, but the noise was muffled by a large hand clamping over your mouth.

when you looked up, you were met by the sight of a snickering ramón who was now pulling his hand away. you held your hand over your hammering heart for a second as you let out a breath of relief.

“lo siento, bebé, pensé—” [i’m sorry, baby, i thought—] ramón was cut off by you smacking him on his chest as hard as you could, which only made him laugh even more.

“pinché pendejo, me diste un puto susto,” [fucking asshole, you scared the shit out of me,] you scowled, but there was no real heat behind it, and he knew that.

the tall male simply grinned down at you, an arm still wrapped around your waist as he cupped your face. “lo siento. te extrañe, amor.” [i’m sorry. i missed you, love.] he pulled you into a kiss, twisting the knob behind you as the two of you stumbled clumsily inside the large bathroom. the door was pushed shut with his foot as he lifted you onto the countertop, never once breaking the kiss.

“yo igual,” [me too,] you mumbled against his lips, pressing your body as close to his as possible. his hands traveled up your legs slowly, massaging patterns on your thighs and hitching your dress up in the process.

he drew back slowly, taking a moment to admire you. “te ves tan pinché hermosa… nadie más te merece ver así.” [you look so fucking beautiful… no one else deserves to see you like this.]

“ah, no?” you giggled, a teasing edge in your voice. “solo tu?” [only you?]

“solo yo,” [only me,] he agreed, smiling as he pressed several kisses along your jaw, settling his hands on your hips. “me quiebro a cualquier cabrón que te volteé a ver.” [i’ll kill any asshole who looks your way.]

“que romántico,” [how romantic,] you joked, though there was no doubt in your mind that he was capable of what he said. suddenly, cochi’s voice boomed through the speakers outside, making you sigh. you ran your fingers through ramón’s hair as you spoke, “tengo que regresar pronto, antes que se de cuenta joaquín que no estoy con lupita.” [i have to go back soon, before joaquín notices i’m not with lupita.]

ramón frowned, pausing for a moment before speaking. “vámonos.” [let’s go.] you raised your brows in question, to which he repeated, “vámonos—por unos días, semanas, no se. tenemos una casa en oaxaca, nadie sabe adonde está,” [let’s go—for a couple days, weeks, i don’t know. we have a house in catemaco, no one knows where it is,] he proposed. “solo seríamos tu y yo, amor.” [it’ll just be you and me, love.]

“quieres que me escape contigo,” [you want me to escape with you,] you concluded, unable to help the smile creeping up on your face.

“sólo unas semanas. nos hace falta una vacación,” [just a couple of weeks. we need a vacation,] he shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. “lejos de todo este desmadre.” [away from all this chaos.]

“tu, lejos del desmadre? es posible eso?” [you, away from the chaos? is that even possible?] you laugh at the idea, giving him a look of disbelief. “pero bueno, supongo que si necesito una vacación.” [well, i suppose i do need a vacation, though.]

ramón chuckled, moving from in between your legs and helping you off the counter. “entonces?” [so?] he already knew the answer was yes, but he still wanted to hear it from you.

“joaquín te va querer matar cuando no me pueda encontrar luego,” [joaquín is going to want to kill you when he’s not able to find me later,] you warned, to which the smug asshole only grinned.

“puede intentar.” [he can try.]

you rolled your eyes, smiling all the while. “vámonos, entonces.” [let’s go then.]

—