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Chapter 12

Paco

"Michael! Michael!" I shout over the noise, shocked and terrified to see mi flor's body drooping feebly in Michael's arms. "What the hell happened?" Violet's dress is crumpled and torn in places, the shoulders falling slightly to reveal the edges of her bra. I shove people aside and elbow them out of the way to get to her and right her dress before taking her into my own arms and lowering her to the floor. The partygoers all migrate around to stare dumbly like cows. David and Julianna battle their way toward us then Julianna drops to her knees beside me, her face alarmed but not panicked.

"She doesn't look hurt or anything, but I think she's been roughed up and maybe drugged," she says, stroking a hand down mi flor's cheek.

I glower up at Michael, silently demanding an explanation.

He meets my gaze with a guarded expression. He answers all the same. "She was drugged. I found her with a couple of guys. They didn't get the chance to do anything. You should hurry and take her to a hospital or something." His words don't sound entirely truthful like he's holding something back. But mi flor needs all my attention right now.

"Violet," I say gently, "can you speak? It's me Paco. Do you hear me?"

Julianna grasps my wrist. "Let's just get her out of here, these jerks are probably taking pictures and videos." She helps me lift her then opens the door and follows me to the car.

From the passenger side she yells out the window at David. "Sorry, baby! I've got to take care of this really fast. Don't wait up for me. I love you!" He blows a kiss her way before waving and yelling a goodbye. Julianna rolls up her window and looks at me. "So what the hell do we do? Take her to the hospital?"

"No…" Violet moans from the backseat. She is laid on her side, unable to sit up and control her muscles.

Julianna twists to look at her. "Well, where then? Your house?"

Mi flor manages a more adamant 'no' than her first one.

I sigh and run a hand over my short hair thinking hard. "Okay. We'll go to my house. My family should all be out drinking or at the movies."

Mi flor doesn't make any more sounds for the rest of the ride. She lies in the back with one arm across her forehead and the other hand hanging down to the floor. Julianna keeps her phone out the whole ride, texting. I just try not to rip off my steering wheel out of fury and worry. Now that I have time to think I start blaming myself for leaving her alone and for taking her to the damn party in the first place.

My house is dark when I swing into the driveway. Hurriedly, Julianna and I jump out and open the back to help Violet out. Obviously, she is fighting to regain her faculties, but she still folds like a piece of cloth when we set her on her feet. Half dragging, half leading her to the door, I fumble for my keys, but the door opens before I find them. Standing in the doorway, Maribel yawns and stretches her back. "What're you doing back so early? And what's wrong with her?"

Stunned into silence for a moment, I stare at her, frozen with my key raised in my hand. "M-Maribel? Why're you still here?"

"Well, Mamá y Papá and the rest of adults went out. Cecilia, Enrique, and Luis went out to catch a movie and hang out or whatever, but Kelsie, Josefina, Juan, and I stayed here. We were going to go too, but we changed our minds and have been out on the back patio talking and snacking."

I can't think of anything to say so I just brush past her and, with Julianna's help, settle mi flor onto the couch. Maribel trails after us, a curious frown on her innocent face. "What happened? Is she alright?" she asks. I ignore her again, letting Julianna explain the situation and usher her outside again.

When we are alone, I lift Violet's head and lay it on my lap. Her blue eyes flutter. I smooth a hand over her head. I start undoing her intricate hairstyle, unravelling the string of jewels from her strands of bronze hair, all the while thinking she doesn't need jewels to be beautiful or valuable. Emerald after emerald spins out of her hair. Setting the precious stones on the side table, I wonder where Julianna got this.

Now that her hair is free, it splays across my legs and flows between my fingers as I stroke through it. She smiles slightly. "Feels goom…" she mumbles.

I chuckle. I'm pretty sure she means 'good.'

One of her hands lifts, searching. I lace my fingers with hers. "I'm so sorry," I whisper. "I take my eyes off of you for one second and I fail you. I'm sorry."

Her other hand finds its way to my cheek to gently caress it. But then it falls clumsily, her body still shaky. "Don't," she mutters. "Is no yer fault." Her fingers squeeze mine feebly in an effort to comfort me.

"Dios, you can't even speak, can you?" She moans in response. Heaving a great sigh I slide off of the couch and take her up in my arms again. The journey upstairs is difficult—the walls are fairly narrow with framed family photographs hanging from them—but I finally get to the second floor landing and carry her into the bathroom. I prop her on the floor up against the wall and turn on the showerhead. It sprays freezing water—especially cold from the winter chill. "Come on," I say hoisting her up and wrapping her in my arms so that she faces away from me. Stepping into the shower, both of us dressed, we cry out from the rush of icy water. Violet's arms gain strength enough to shield her face. She gasps over and over as the cold torrent pours down. Fumbling to keep her locked in my arms when she tries to escape, I shiver violently and clutch her closer, refusing to let go. "This-this will s-sober you up q-q-quicker," I stammer through chattering teeth.

She cries out from the shock, her energy returning, leaving her a little confused. Soon, she calms down and, while she still wriggles slightly and breathes heavily, her voice is her own once more. "Paco," she rasps. "Paco."

"¿S-sí, m-m-mi flor?"

"Let me g-go. It's okay."

Feeling as if my bones are frozen through and might break from moving I slowly disengage myself from her. She topples forward, catching herself on the shower's front wall. Her hand, trembling, reaches down toward the knob and turns it toward the hot end. A few moments later the water raining down seems to scorch my skin though it's really only slightly warm. I grunt at the shock and lean back to brace my shivering body against the back wall of the shower.

Mi flor faces me again and takes a step forward. I steady her because she still looks drained. Her hair is a wet mop plastered to her face. I skim a hand over her skin, chasing the stray locks and strands from her face. "S-still as beautiful as w-when the night started," I say, my voice thicker and hardier now.

She smiles. The hand that is not braced on my arm roams upward until she touches my jaw. Her expression seems focused as her fingers slowly wander to my cheek, up my temple, along my brow, descending my nose to meet with my lips where they linger. They don't even move when she speaks. "You are more handsome than I imagined," she says.

I cover her fingers with mine and press them more firmly to my lips in a tender kiss. Without even a nudge from me, she steps into me, sliding that hand to thumb my ear for a moment before rounding the back of my head and pulling me down to her lips. There is no coy flirting with this kiss, no innocent guessing, it is all sure and passionate and hot. She presses her body into mine, trapping me against the wall, and my hands find their way to the small of her back, running up and down her soaked dress like Olympic swimmers. Our lips are wet and burning already from the shower, the kisses fueling the flames.

"I love you, Paco," she moans when our lips part for a second.

Kissing a path down her jaw and neck to her shoulder and reaching the straps of her dress, I sigh, "Mi flor, mi flor, te amo. Te amo mucho. Estoy enamorado de ti. Estás mi flor, mi mundo, Violeta." I turn so that she is against the wall. Her hands aren't on me anymore, but tugging her dress down. I reach around and unzip the back and it slides down to her hips, exposing a smooth stomach that flutters as she breathes and a chest still concealed by a plain blue bra.

I feel myself straining, ready to crawl out my skin and cozy up next to hers. My tongue drags down the center of her chest to her naval. I place tiny kisses across the skin of her belly while just below, her dress sags further down, past her underwear and drops to her feet. I lift one leg and kiss the inside of her thigh before standing again. She's ahead of me so that when I stand up tall, she unclasps her bra and lets it fall to the slippery floor. While I'm breathless at the sight she reaches out and rips open my button down, flinging it to the floor with her dress. The hot water pounds the bare skin of my back as I stare down at her. Her hands work tirelessly spreading over my chest, stomach, shoulders, arms, driving my mind right out of my brain. I pick her up under her thighs and press her to the wall. Our foreheads meet, but we don't kiss, letting our breaths mingle. I struggle to find enough of my mind to form words. "Are you sure?" Her fingers dig into my shoulder as she nods wordlessly. I plant my lips on hers briefly then step out of the shower and stumble toward the cabinet. Lucky we ended up in the bathroom. My hands tremble as I dig into the little box for the silver package and turn to face her again. She stands with one hand outstretched, waiting for me. I take her hand and kiss her deeply, hotly. Moving with her is like embracing a tornado. I am whirled and thrown about, my mind lost somewhere, ripped away from my body by a powerful torrent. We fly higher and higher until the tornado evaporates and we collapse to the porcelain of the tub

Finally we slump together, panting. I cradle her and turn off the water which has grown cold again because we wasted all the warm water. The drain gurgles, mixing its fading sounds with our own evaporating cloud of passion. She feels warm and cold at the same time in my arms, against my chest, her bare body soft and pleasant. I reach to the metal stand with shelves of towels and fling one over us, lazily wiping away the droplets from her skin. Absentmindedly she traces her fingertips in the water on my chest, leaving swirling patterns of liquid.

Content to just lie there together forever, I can't help but feel a bit disappointed when she suggests, "I guess we should go downstairs. They're probably wondering what happened to us." Though I find consolation in that she sounds just as reluctant about the idea as I feel.

"Oh, I'd be glad to tell them what happened to us," I joke, grinning goofily. She smirks and punches my chest lightly. Pushing herself to her feet, she catches the towel before it falls, wraps herself in it, and steps out of the tub-shower combination. I grab our discarded clothes to wring them out before slinging them over the curtain rod to dry. When I turn to find Violet standing with the towel around her like a dress I realize she has no other clothes.

"This could be a problem," she chuckles nervously.

I laugh and tell her, "I've got two sisters; I think we can find something for you to wear. At the very least you can wear one of my shirts or hoodies. I'd actually kind of prefer it…"

She punches me again. "Yeah, let's give them even more evidence. Oh, and I'd love to see my parents' faces when they find me coming home wearing nothing but a boy's shirt like a dress."

"Yes, but you'd wear it so well."

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes fondly.

In Fiona's room we manage to find a dress that is actually a shirt on Fiona—she's a tall chica. It's baggy on Violet and has long sleeves. The washed-out green of the fabric looks surprisingly good on her. Then I hunt down some of my ninth grade sweatpants from playing basketball which fit her after she pulls the drawstrings about as tight as they'll go.

For myself I grab fresh underwear, jeans, and a black button-down from my room then we walked downstairs. I grab one of my hoodies and stuffed it over her head for good measure despite her protests. She scowls, but I detect a smile behind it. Ringing her shoulders with one arm and one of hers around my waist, I start toward the back patio with her fitting perfectly to my side like a piece to a puzzle.

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