#cuetes

Oscar always had this uncanny ability to time his visits perfectly. He knew just when the 19th Street crew would be out handling business or posted up on the other side of the neighborhood, leaving the block quiet enough for him to make his approach. It was like he had some sixth sense—or maybe just a death wish. You had to give it to him, though; he knew how to avoid trouble, showing up only when it was safe to talk to you.

And though you wouldn’t admit it out loud, there was something you didn’t mind about these stolen moments. Sure, you could snitch on him, let Cuetes know his rival was showing up uninvited, but you never did. Spooky knew it, too. He could see it in the way your gaze lingered just a little too long before you rolled your eyes, in the way you stayed leaning on the porch rail instead of walking inside.

“You gonna stand there glaring at me all night, or you gonna say hi?” he teased, his smirk widening when you scowled in response.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?” you shot back, but the bite in your voice was weaker than you’d intended.

Oscar just laughed, slow and easy, like he had all the time in the world. His arm hung casually out his car window, the golden light catching on his tattoos. “You like these little meetups. Don’t lie to yourself, mami.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you scoffed, turning your head so he wouldn’t catch the way your lips twitched into a small smile. He always knew exactly what to say to get under your skin—and the worst part? He wasn’t wrong.

“Hey,” he said as he got out his Impala, stopping at the base of your porch steps. “You know, I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

You folded your arms, raising an eyebrow. “And if I was?”

He laughed, the sound deep and warm. “Can’t say I’d blame you. But nah, I know you got better taste than that.”

His charm might have worked on someone else, but not you. You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Actually, I’ve got a man, so maybe don’t waste your time.”

Oscar’s smirk widened, his gaze flicking over you like he could see right through your lie. “A man, huh? That’s cute. What’s his name?”

You straightened, trying to keep your composure. “None of your business, Spooky.”

“Oh, so he’s imaginary.” He chuckled, leaning casually against the railing. “Figures. You’re too good for these fools around here.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m serious. And besides, even if I didn’t, you know this can’t happen. You’re a Santo; I’m 19th Street. We don’t mix.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Gangs don’t mean much when it comes to what I want. And right now, what I want is to take you out. Just one date—unless you’re scared your ‘man’ will find out.” He punctuated the last part with air quotes.

You rolled your eyes, heat creeping into your face. “Scared? Please. I’m just not interested.”

“Right.” He grinned, stepping closer. “And that’s why you’re blushing.”

Your heart raced, but you refused to let him see you falter. “You’re delusional, Spooky. Now, get off my porch before Cuetes catches you and we both end up with problems.”

Oscar lingered for a moment, his teasing gaze locking with yours. Then, he stepped back, hands raised in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. But this ain’t over, mamacita.”