The Fake Boyfriend [completed]

12: Pharmamax coquito

The cold marble against my hand makes me feel even colder. I don't understand why the air conditioner feels like it's below zero. I've never been a fan of the cold. Your bones freeze to death no matter how many layers you have on. Maggy is out doing some grocery shopping, and mother and father are also out, so it is just me and Miles.

Miles and me. I really like how that sounds. As the days, hours, minutes, and seconds pass, I find myself wanting to spend more time with him. I want to learn more about him and his life. How did he grow and up and all the corny stuff. But then I remind myself that all of this is fake and only to displease my mother.

Every day she shows her hate for our relationship even more. She tells me Miles isn't good for me and how Jason is my obvious choice. Miles is amazing I try to tell her, and it pains me she doesn't see it. But for once, I'm doing something to annoy her and not be the perfect daughter she's always tried to manipulate.

"The tembleque is in the fridge. We can start the coquito now." Even if our first attempt to make the tembleque was good, Miles still thinks we could have made it better. Supposedly, he talked to his mom about it and she gave him some tips.

"How do we make co-ki-to." I take my time trying to pronounce the word correctly.

"Mejor. Coquito." He repeats the word so I can hear it again. Miles has been teaching me a bit of Spanish here and there, but I can never pronounce the words correctly. He says it's going to take time for me to really learn, but still thinks I'm doing amazing. And when I say he's teaching, I mean he says things in Spanish. I beg him to translate them and then I try to remember what they mean. He's not the best teacher. But his hot accent makes him sound really smart...

I suppose you could say he's a great teacher (only because of the accent), but he can never know I said that or that I actually enjoyed his little Marc Anthony show the other day. The music is growing on me the more he plays it. And the way he looks like when he sings in Spanish... beautiful. His accent is prominent when he sings. Miles rolls his 'r's a certain way I love. His brown hair moving up and down as he tried to imitate any famous singer. He creates a mic with his own hand and sings to me boleros de salsa; as he calls them.

"I feel bad for anyone who doesn't like coco. This shit is the best." His words come out all muffled as he takes a spoon of coconuts shred.

"I don't like them that much," I admit.

The clink of the metal spoon is heard against the marble. Miles's light brown eyes darken a he looks at me. "I don't think we should date anymore."

"I was thinking the same thing." I joke back.

"People who don't like coco are boring." I drop my gaze as his words echo through my ears.

Boring.

"Hermosa?" Every time he calls me hermosa, the butterflies wake up from their slumber and reappear in my tummy. "You okay?" Jason called me boring when he left me. "Diana? Hey, what's wrong?"