Jeremy Stays Over

"You won't believe what happened at work today," Mom said as she slipped off her heels by the door, her blouse slightly undone from the summer heat. She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck before tossing her keys onto the counter. My stomach tightened—she had that look, the one that meant trouble.

Mom’s nails tapped against her coffee mug—that nervous tell. “Ay, mijo,” she sighed, avoiding my eyes. “Jeremy’s dad… he asked me a favor.” The pause clung to the air like humidity. “The boy needs a place to stay Saturday. His house, it’s… being sprayed.”

The air thickened. Mom was clueless. She was offering him our couch, our air, while his smirk already stained the walls in my head.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides—every muscle coiled tight as a spring. "Mom, you’re really gonna let that bastard sleep under our roof after what he did to me?" The words came out raw, edged with something darker. Her breath hitched, but she lifted her chin, those brown eyes flashing. "You think I want this? His father signs my paychecks, Mijo. One ‘no’ and we’re eating ramen for a month."

The coffee mug clattered into the sink. She turned away, but not before I caught the flush creeping down her chest, disappearing into the lace of her bra. My throat went dry. Was she nervous—or excited? The thought punched through me like a fist.