9
The next day, Andres picks me up from class on his deathtrap of a vehicle. We then go back to my house. I study while he watches me. He rubs my back and my hair, making it very hard for me to concentrate. After I’m finished with my homework, I lie on my side, facing Andres. We’re parallel to one another as I gaze into his eyes. He runs his strong hand up and down my arm, leaving me with tingly goose bumps. I take his hand and flip it over to look at the small star tattoo on the inside of his wrist.
“Do you mind if I ask you about your tattoo?”
A moment passes before he answers. “I got it to remind me of my mom,” he says quietly.
“You don’t like to talk about your family, do you?” I ask as I run my fingers over the silky skin of his wrist, tracing the points of the star.
He sighs, lo
