Dear Journal (I got it right this time),

I think she's doing it on purpose. Maybe it's because I'm noticing it more or because I am ridiculously horny 24/7 nowadays, but Ramona's been speaking Spanish much more often. Especially around me.

Just the other day, we were in the kitchen. She was making cereal and I was on my phone. I wasn't paying attention, so you can imagine how much it threw me off guard when she turned to me and said, "Dame la leche."

My brain stopped working as I slipped into the now very familiar "shut up she's speaking Spanish," mode. I imagine I looked pretty brain dead from her point of view as I just stared at her mouth, waiting for the next few words of the romance language to slip out.

"Dame la leche," she insisted, gesturing to the milk carton by my elbow on the island. I knew what she meant and she knew I knew what she meant, which was why she didn't repeat herself in English. Instead, she just watched me as I watched her lips wrap around the syllables and taste every sound.

I want to die. I sound like some sappy poet. And I'm horny. This sucks.

She smirked at me- I know it was a smirk because I was watching her mouth so closely- and repeated more slowly, "Dame la leche, por favor."

I was torn between fleeing the scene and 'relieving' myself as soon as possible or staying to listen to her speak Spanish forever. Both were very appealing choices. I didn't know how I would ever choose. Thank goodness I didn't have to because she reached over and grabbed the milk herself, coming very close to my face with her own. Just like that, the moment was gone as if it had never happened. She went back to making cereal, pouring in the milk that she had to grab herself. The only proof that there even was a moment was the smirk still etched in her face.

But was there even a moment? Or am I making this all up? It was all over so fast. I wouldn't think twice about it if it were an isolated event, but it wasn't. Ever since that morning in the kitchen- which I've begun referring to in my head as the Milk Incident- Ramona's been making a point to look me in the eye when she speaks Spanish. Which is all the damn time now, as I explained before.

One time, while we were crossing on the stairs, she bumped into me. In the split second that our bodies were pressed against each other, she whispered in my ear, "Perdon."

And then she was gone. And then I was hard.

Another time she had her earbuds in and she was bobbing her head along to the music in that dorky way that she does when she started singing. It wasn't the singing itself that got to me. Vocally, Ramona isn't good or bad. She's an average singer with an average range who isn't awful to listen to but also won't be winning any singing competitions anytime soon. But holy fuck, she was singing in Spanish.

I was just about gone right there. I ran up to my room so fast, it felt like I teleported. Locking the door, I got it over with, but unlike usually, it took forever. I couldn't seem to get off. I eventually gave up and went to take a cold shower when I saw Ramona in the hallway. Her earbuds were still in, but thankfully she was singing along to some generic pop song instead of anything in Spanish. Maybe the universe has mercy after all.

Turns out it doesn't, because a series of events occurred afterward that I will never be able to prove but will also never stop replaying in my head.

In the split second before she disappeared into her room, Ramona looked over her shoulder, glanced down at the tent in my jeans, sucked in her bottom lip, and whispered, "Damn, Papí. Dame más gasolina."

I don't know what she said, why she said it, what it means, or whether or not she was joking. All I know is that I came in my pants.

I hope to God that no one ever finds this journal because I hate myself even more every time I read that sentence. My life is a flaming hot mess on wheels. I'm sexually attracted to the language that my mom's friend's daughter/my housemate speaks and it has gotten to the point where I can get off on her speaking alone. That shouldn't even be possible. Why is that possible? Of all the people to be the exception to that rule, why did it have to be me?

As I am writing to you now, I am sitting on the couch watching Tommy play with Ramona. She's cooing to him in Spanish and I'm trying to act as calm as possible, even though everything inside of me wants to shove her up against a wall and let out all of my frustration.

Woah.

Where did that come from? That was totally out of left field. I think I need a water break. Brb.

I'm back and a lot has happened, so take a seat.

Okay, so while I was in the kitchen pouring water, Ramona came in behind me and said, "Necesitamos a hablar."

I almost dropped my glass, but I shakily placed it down on the counter and turned around. I stealthily used you, my diary- damn it- journal, to block my boner and asked, "What?"

"We need to talk," she reiterated in English.

My brain immediately jumped to breakup before I reminded myself that Ramona and I aren't even dating. Plus, she's dating Popko.

"Uh, yeah? What about?"

"You've been acting super weird ever since you told me to shut up at breakfast," she started, rubbing her arm insecurely.

"I said I was sorry for that."

"Why do you keep avoiding me?" she asked. "Is it because I saw your erection that one time? I was totally joking. I get that that happens sometimes."

I could feel my face heating up. No, it wasn't because you saw my boner, I wanted to say. It's because immediately after I came in my pants. I'm also insanely attracted to you whenever you speak Spanish to the point where I lose most of my self-restraint.

I couldn't say that though, so I settled for, "It's whatever."

She frowned.

"Jackson, I want you to be honest with me. I miss when we were friends."

"We are friends."

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Por favor, Jackson."

A shiver ran down my back and my nostrils flared. I don't know what expression I was making, but whatever it was, was telling. I could see in her eyes a weird sort of understanding that scared the shit out of me.

"Gotta go. Bye," I said quickly as I rushed out of the kitchen to write this all down.

So now here I am, scared out of my mind that Ramona's figured out my sick fantasies and will now hate me forever. I wish you could talk so you could tell me I'm being stupid and overanalyzing this like a girl. It's whatever. Whatever.

Not really because I'm super hard and all I can think about is my mom's friend's daughter/my housemate.

Sincerely,

Jackson Fuller

It's... drum roll, please... JAMONA THURSDAY! Only one more day until the end of the series to end all series. I'll be uploading sometime in the afternoon, so stay tuned. Review with your favorite fandom.

I WOULD REALLY, REALLY LOVE IT IF YOU TOOK THE POLL ON MY PROFILE PAGE!

Love, Ru