Two
Violet Chemistry

Eloisa let out a whoop of delight as the 8-ball sank into the corner pocket. She high-fived Aubrey and they did a victory dance, swishing their hips back and forth, hands waving in the air. Smirking, she went back to the table where their drinks were sitting and drained hers.

Nacho stood beside her, their bodies close as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "That was bullshit."

She turned so that their faces almost touched. "Sorry, is the sound of me winning too loud for you?"

"You're pretty cocky for someone who won by a lucky shot."

"Lucky?" she scoffed. "That was all skill, baby."

He shook his head. "I don't think we're playing the same game."

She bumped her shoulder against his. "Sounds like someone's a sore loser…"

"We'll see who's the sore loser. You want another one?" he asked, reaching around her back to grab his drink. His arm brushed against her shirt, making the soft fabric stick to her warm body and sending a jolt of electricity through her.

She was about to say yes, she did want another one when Starr exclaimed, "Let's do shots!"

"Ugh," Aubrey groaned.

Eloisa knew she was thinking about the last time that Starr had tricked them into taking shots. It had ended with the three of them fighting over the toilet in Starr's apartment bathroom the next morning.

"Anything but vodka."

"Party pooper," Starr pouted.

"Tequila?" Domingo suggested. When this was met with no resistance, he slapped Nacho on the back. "And this guy's paying." Immediately the ladies began to protest but Domingo waved it away. "Ah, he's good for it, trust me."

"You really don't have to," Eloisa said.

"Five shots of tequila?" He shrugged. "It's not a big deal. You still want that drink?"

"Okay, big spender," she agreed, entertained by his humblebrag.

When they were gone, Aubrey and Starr rounded on her.

"So," Starr began excitedly. "What's going on there?"

Eloisa inspected her fingernails, voice breezy. "What do you mean?"

"What she means is that you can cut the tension in here with a knife." Aubrey nudged her. "I swear to god he looks at you like he wants to take you on the table and- ow!" She glared and rubbed her arm where Eloisa pinched her.

But she had a point. Eloisa consumed romance novels the same way a gourmand ate in their favorite restaurant, lovingly and to the point of excess. And tonight, it felt like she was in one. Nacho wasn't suave, not in a Lothario way. He was kind of grumpy and sarcastic, and she liked that she didn't have to pretend to be bubbly or sweet. It didn't hurt that every time he touched her, she felt like she was going to explode either.

"Fine, okay. He's hot. Is that what you want me to say?"

"That's a start," Aubrey said, patting her head.

She smiled, unable to remember the last time she had smiled so much or been so relaxed. "And we're not talking about the handsy twins because…?"

"Because this is actually exciting." Aubrey leaned against her pool stick. "Starr getting laid is like the sun setting, it's always gonna happen. For you, on the other hand, getting laid is like… like a total solar eclipse. It rarely happens," she explained when they both stared at her blankly.

"Eee!" Starr, unoffended, squeezed Eloisa's arm. "Time for Miss Goody-Two-Shoes to let her hair down."

"Who's a goody-two-shoes?" Domingo asked, handing Aubrey a shot glass while wrapping an arm around Starr. He nuzzled the side of her face with his nose. "Cause it's definitely not you."

Eloisa took both her drink and one of the shots from Nacho.

"El," Starr answered. "Always."

"I can see it. Bet you got straight-As in school and you were…" Nacho studied her. "A cheerleader. I'm kidding," he added when she made a face at him.

"Track, actually."

"Running for fun?" He shook his head. "Estas loca."

"To new friends!" an impatient Starr exclaimed as she thrust her glass outward. Everyone clinked them together.

As the rest of them threw back their glasses, Nacho lifted his to Eloisa. "Salud."

She returned the sentiment and they, too, drank. Ben had given them VIP treatment by adding salt to the rims. She shuddered, mouth puckering at the briny aftertaste.

"Cute," Nacho teased.

"I hate shots," she admitted.

"Hold on, you got something right…" He reached out and ran a thumb across her bottom lip, brushing salt from the corner of her mouth. He put it to his mouth and sucked the salt from his thumb, never taking his eyes off her. "There."

She swallowed hard, warmth pooling in her stomach that had very little to do with alcohol. He leaned in like he might have been about to say something, or maybe kiss her. Cologne, expensive smelling, filled her nose and made her close her eyes as she tried to inhale more of it, of him.

Then his phone rang.

He sighed and pulled it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen.

"Sorry," he apologized then called, "Hey," to Domingo and held up the phone. "I'll be back."

Eloisa was glad for the interruption, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. She watched him walk down the stairs.

"How turned on are you right now?" Aubrey whispered in her ear.

"God, get out of here," she replied, pushing her away. She took a long drink and sighed, too agitated to just stand there while they waited. "I have to go to the bathroom."

Luckily there was no line. She splashed cool water on her cheeks and stared at herself in the mirror. "You got this," she told her reflection. Then, "Fuck, that was hot."

After a deep breath to steady her nerves, she ran a finger under her eyes to ensure there was no smudged makeup left behind. She had just stepped out, the door barely swinging closed behind her, when a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward a dark corner.

"What the hell?" She jerked her arm out of the person's grip and made to glare at them, but her eyes widened instead. "Nate?"

"Sorry," Nathaniel Osborne apologized. "I didn't think you were working tonight." He winced as he said it, like it hurt him to admit that he still knew her schedule.

"I'm not."

He wanted to ask more, she could tell, but something stopped him. Maybe it was her buzz, the irritated look on her face, or that he didn't want answers to his own questions.

"I was gonna call you tomorrow." He lowered his voice. "I just talked to my guy, and he said he'd meet with you."

"That's- seriously? That's great!" The urge to hug him was overwhelming so she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Thank you."

"Yeah, of course. But… look, I don't wanna bullshit you, El. Ray owed these people a lot of money." He would know given that he had been her dad's partner. How he'd managed to avoid getting heavily caught up in the shitstorm, had even kept his job as an Albuquerque police officer, remained a mystery to Eloisa. "He wants some money upfront."

Her stomach clenched. Even dead, her father could not stop fucking them over.

"How much?"

He looked away, so puppy-like with his soft curly blonde hair and big blue eyes. "Ten grand."

"Ten grand?" she repeated. He nodded. Bile rose in her throat. She was already going to have to dip into her rapidly vanishing savings to scrape together the money for her grandmother's hospital bill.

"Yeah."

She took a deep breath. Depending on how much time she had maybe it wouldn't be completely impossible. "Okay. When does he want to meet?"

"Sunday."

Eloisa's cool façade faltered. "I'm supposed to get ten thousand dollars together in two days? That's insane, Nate." And impossible. Maybe if she'd had two weeks. "Can't you ask for more time?"

He gave a low, humorless chuckle. "Yeah, sure. I'll call him and be all, 'Hey, man, sorry, can we move it to a day that works better for us?' He'll tell me to get fucked."

"I start my new job Monday. I need more time. Even an extra week would be better."

"I hear you, but what do you want me to do?"

"Nothing." She turned away, chewing the inside of her bottom lip. And there it was: the thing that had been hanging over her like a black cloud come to catch her lest she enjoy any time in the sun. "I'll figure it out."

"El," he said, reaching out to touch her arm.

"Hey, man," a voice cut in. "We got a table-"

She stepped away from him, tucking her hair behind her ear. A man she vaguely recognized as one of Nate's college buddies gave a short cough that almost covered his nervous laughter. "Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's cool. One sec." He left and Nate looked down at her. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." She nodded in the direction of his group. "You should go."

"Sunday," he reminded her. "Be ready at eight."

She waved to acknowledge she'd heard him before taking off toward her friends.

"There you are," Aubrey said, leaning against her pool stick.

They watched as Starr lined up her shot then giggled as Domingo corrected her by sidling behind her and placing his arms around her. It was like watching a romantic comedy unfold in real time.

"This had to be what it was like watching Mozart compose. She's a fucking genius." She snorted but couldn't argue. Starr was very good at getting what she wanted. "I saw Nate. Are you okay?"

Everyone knew that she'd left Nate shortly after her father died, but she hadn't explained why. Because her family was already going through so much, no one pushed her for a reason though she knew her friends, especially, were still confused. Nate had stood by them through all of it, after all.

Aubrey threw an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close. Eloisa rested her head. The night seemed sapped of all its color, drained to a dull gray. She just wanted to be home, curled up in bed to wallow in peace.

"Would you be mad if I left?"

Aubrey shook her head. "Nah. Should I tell Miss Thing I'm taking you home?"

"Don't worry about it." She extracted herself and looked around, trying to hide her disappointment. "He's still not back?"

A smirk formed on her friend's lips. "Who?"

Eloisa rolled her eyes. She was too upset to want to play coy anymore. "I just wanted to say thanks for the drinks. If you see him, pass the message on?"

"Sure. Should I pass him your number too?"

"Shut up," she mumbled, face turning pink as she slipped on her jacket.

"Pfft. Okay. I saw the way you were staring at his arms. I bet he'd be down to throw you around a little bit-"

"Oh, my god." She clapped a hand over her friend's mouth. "Stop talking."

Aubrey gave her a tight hug. Eloisa called out goodbye to Starr and Domingo as she left.

When she reached the street, she was greeted by warm night air and the typical commotion of a Friday on Central: muffled music, loud voices, and the occasional police siren. She moved a few feet away from the entrance and felt her jacket pockets until she discovered the battered pack of cigarettes that she kept on hand for nights out.

Ten thousand dollars. Where in the hell was she going to get that kind of money? She found a lighter, put the cigarette between her lips, and tried lighting it with a shaky hand. But the lighter only sparked. Again, nothing. A third time, nothing. She made a strangled noise, tears stinging her eyes, and was about to chuck the damn thing when a flame appeared in front of her face. She looked up to see Nacho. He plucked the cigarette from her lips, placing it between his own.

"Everything okay?" he asked as he inhaled, the burning crackle of the tip audible.

"Fine." He passed it back and she took a long drag. "Thanks."

"Sure." He tucked the lighter in his back pocket and looked out over the street. "They're still up there?"

"Yeah."

They stood in companionable silence, passing the cigarette back and forth.

"I think I'm gonna head out, though." She threw the butt down, crushing it under the heel of her shoe. She dug into her jacket pocket and produced her phone.

"What are you doing?" he asked as she flipped it open.

"Calling a friend." She had been about to text Nate because she didn't want to walk and because she knew he would drive her.

He placed his hand over hers, closing it again. "Like your boyfriend?"

"No," she replied quietly. His thumb stroked her wrist. Just once, but it was enough to send that dangerous electricity right down her spine. "No boyfriend."

"I'll take you."

"Won't your buddy miss you?"

He looked up at the lights in the window and then back at her. "I doubt it."

For the second time that night, she was on the verge of saying no. She was freaking out about the money, and she didn't have time for this, no matter how badly she wanted it. But there was something there, a spark or chemistry or whatever and he was still touching her and, goddamn it, Aubrey had been right about his arms.

"Yeah," she said in a bold voice, looking up at him through mascara-darkened lashes. "Alright."

Nacho led her down the street to the lot where his car was parked. She gave a low whistle, her hand hovering over the bright white and cherry red paint as she walked around to the passenger door. Her dad would have loved this car. The thought was like a punch to the gut. Then his hand grazed her hip as he reached for the handle, snapping her out of it.

It wasn't far to her house, but neither of them said much, content to let the music play as the tension mounted between them. He parked the car, she unbuckled, and they sat there, unsure who should drop the pretense by making the first move.

"How about a drink?" she asked.