Read Online Cubanita by Gaby Triana - Free Book Online Page A

lets out a heavy sigh. “Twenty-three, señorita .”
    I’m sorry, but it sounded like he said TWENTY-THREE? What?! No way! That’s older than Stefan! The oldest person I ever kissed was Robi! I could’ve sworn Andrew was no more than twenty. But twenty-three? That’s like…like…out of my league. Awesome!
    Awesome? Isa! Does he even know how old you are?
    â€œHello?” His voice seems deeper to me now for some reason. “Anybody there?”
    â€œYeah, I’m here,” I breathe. “Sorry, I just—” My stomach’s working those butterflies again. “But you said you were a junior.”
    â€œI am. After my first year my grades weren’t all that, too much partying, I guess. So my parents made me go home and work for the money I’d lost them. UM’s expensive, you know.”
    â€œI know.” Silence.
    â€œIs something wrong?” He sounds way older now. You know, maybe I’m liking this age thing.
    â€œNo, it’s just that…well, Andrew, how old do you think I am?”
    â€œYou just graduated high school, right? So…eighteen?”
    Oh, brother. Here we go. I hope I’m not dropping a bomb here. “Seventeen actually.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œBut my birthday’s next month, August twelfth. Look, it doesn’t bother me, if it doesn’t bother you. I mean, we canstill go out again if you want.”
    I hate these painful silences. What’s he thinking? Great, I bet now he doesn’t want to go out again. Let’s just stay happy coworkers, eh ? Maybe he’ll move on to Susy now. But that kiss! So incredible. I definitely want more.
    His voice is lower now, sexy. “Are you asking me out?” I can just see that wide smile of his. Oh, Jesus.
    â€œI guess I am.” And using my notes on classic Susy flirting, I add, “Come by my room tomorrow for another art demonstration.”
    â€œHmmm,” he muses softly. “I’ll be there after the bell, señorita .”

Eight
    Remember Iggy’s flying niece? Well, Chicken-Chickee’s real name is Daisy. She’s in my 3:30 class. Pretty good with the oil pastels actually. In the five minutes I’ve been working with her, the little chatterbox has told me all about Tío Iggy, the pretty girl he used to bring to her house, and the older brother she wished she had.
    â€œBut I have a fake brother,” she announces.
    â€œReally?” I gotta wrap this up. The kids are getting antsy, and it’s almost 4:30. “Look, blend these two and you get the color of the morning sun. See?”
    â€œOh, cool, Miss Díaz. Well, my fake brother? His name’s Andy. Maybe you know him because he’s a teacher here too.”
    â€œYou mean Coach Andrew?” Her fake brother. That’s so cute. “Yeah, I’ve met him, Daisy. He’s real nice.”
    â€œI know. But Tío Iggy got mad at him and now they don’tlive together anymore.”
    Mad at him? “Why did Iggy get mad at him?” I ask.
    She shrugs. “I don’t know.”
    â€œBut they’re still friends, right?” They must be. They went fishing together last weekend.
    â€œI think so. But Andy? He throws me in the air higher than my dad or my tío .”
    Hmmm, they got into a fight? Over what? Probably over who gets the shag pad to themselves on which night and all that. Whatever. I’ll ask more tomorrow. Only two minutes to the bell, then Andrew’s coming. “Yeah, he looks like he could make you fly,” I tell her, and she holds up her pattern for me to behold. “Beautiful! Let’s put it up.”
    Â 
    It’s 4:30 on the dot. I take the kids out in a single file, and they board the buses in time to escape the rain. When I get back to my room, I pretend to be really busy shelving the Cray-Pas. Two minutes later Coach walks in. He leans his equipment bag against the wall.
    He closes