"I listened to your CD yesterday," I told Mario. We were at our locker on Monday morning, and it felt like a good time to say something since the halls were mostly empty. It was between periods, and most students had classes on the other side of the building. "I just had one question."

"Shoot," he told me absently while putting his Spanish textbook in his bag.

"Who's Julia? You mentioned her in the songs a few times."

He froze. "Um." His eyes were wider than normal when he looked at me. "I forgot about that. Julia was my first girlfriend. We broke up a long time ago."

I gave a nod, unsure of how I felt about this information. "How long did you date her?"

His shoulders relaxed slightly. "For a few months." He scratched his head. "If I'm honest, I knew that we'd never work from the beginning. Evidence following your heart isn't always the best thing to do."

I nodded with a frown. I'd always been inclined to follow my heart, and that was how I'd fallen asleep to him the last two nights. The more I tried to figure out where my heart was, the more scared I became. Someone was going to get hurt, and I couldn't stand that. "Maybe not," I responded. My gaze lingered on my locker another moment and before I eventually turned and headed towards our second class.

Mario pulled out his Spanish textbook. "I can't believe you're taking Spanish and they put me in that class." He shook his head. "I mean, my name should have given away that I'm fluent in it!"

I forced a smile. "You're forgetting that there are some who don't know Spanish."

He frowned at me. "Come on, Daze. It's not that often that Spanish people can't speak it."

"You could ask them to transfer you to French."

"I'm fluent in that, too."

I glanced at him, surprised. "How many languages do you speak, anyway?"

He gave me a shy smile. "I'm fluent in five and know enough to get by of two others."

I stopped in the middle of the hallway. He followed suit and turned to me. "Seriously?"

He grinned at me, said something in another language, and resumed walking to our class.

I jogged to catch up. "What?"

He chuckled. "That was Portuguese. I said, 'I'm very serious.'"

I mulled over this knowledge until lunch. When we all sat down, I poked Mario. "Say something."

He absently stirred around the school lunch he got. "Like what?"

I shrugged. "I don't care. Do it in another language." This got the attention of everyone at the table. Dan was the only one who didn't look up.

"Which one?"

"What do you speak?"

He held up a hand and began counting them off. "English, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Italian, and a little of German and Latin."

"Portuguese."

He rolled his eyes. "How about I just sing for the table?" He theatrically gestured to everyone else as he spoke.

I grinned at him. "That would be great. Know anything in Portuguese?"

He lightly elbowed me. "Just eat." He took a bite of his lunch, filling his mouth and slowly chewing.

Everyone at our table was now watching us. Susan glanced at him. "Can you really speak Portuguese?" He nodded, taking another bite. "Can you sing, too?" He warily nodded. "Sing for us!" She leaned forward, waiting.

"No."

I turned to him. "You sing great."

He raised an eyebrow and pointed his plastic fork at me. "That's poor English."

I rolled my eyes. "Now you're just trying to distract me."

" what if I am?" He glanced around. Even George was watching him expectantly. "Guys, no."

"Bro, you're a great singer," Dan told him. "Stop being shy."

Mario reddened a little. "I'm not being shy." He paused. "I just . . . don't feel like it."

I raised one eyebrow. "Fine." I turned to Dan. "Bring his CD tomorrow."

"Dude," Don said, looking impressed. "You made a CD?"

Mario seemed to sink a little in his seat. He shot me a glare before staring at his tray. "Um" was all he could manage. His face was turning red, and I realized that I had put him on the spot.

"He did," Dan told him. "I was surprised when he actually let Daisy borrow it."

I felt George looking at me. "You listened to it?" was all he asked.

"Yeah. I listened to it yesterday while I was out." I looked over, expecting him to be upset. Instead, he was just eating and looked content. I relaxed.

Mario sighed. "Okay, okay. Fine. I'll sing for you guys, but it won't be here. It's too big of an audience for me." He glanced over his shoulder at the other kids in the cafeteria.

I'd honestly forgotten they existed. No wonder he was putting up a fight.

Susan grinned. "Parking lot, right after school."

Mario raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you telling me to come sing, or are you challenging me to a fight?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sing. Duh."

"You play guitar?" George asked. When he got a nod, he gestured over his shoulder with a thumb. "I know someone with a guitar if you want to play it."

"Thanks."

---

After our little lunchtime exchange, time seemed to drag. I kept telling myself I shouldn't feel this way just because I was going to hear Mario play and sing. I should be more excited to hear George play for me – if he ever followed through with my request - but that day, not so much.

The prospect of hearing George? I could take or leave it. The prospect of hearing Mario? My heart was pounding in anticipation.

I was upset with myself for feeling that way, but the notion left me as we gathered in the parking lot. George led us over to his truck. He dropped the tailgate, got a guitar from the passenger side, and handed it to Mario.

"You can sit on the tailgate," he told him. "That's the one stipulation to using this guitar."

Mario smiled and easily hopped up on the truck's tailgate. He strummed once and tuned the instrument slightly. Taking a breath, he began playing. His voice was loud and clear. We all listened, a little entranced by him. As most good things do, it eventually came to an end and we applauded.

"You could be famous," Susan said breathlessly.

"Oh, yeah?" Mario began an intricate tune, his fingers moving swiftly on the board and strings. "You really think so?" He spoke lightly, as if he wasn't even concentrating. His fingers moved steadily faster until I couldn't track their progress anymore. George was watching him, obviously jealous. Mario didn't notice – he was focused on his playing. A minute later, he abruptly stopped and looked at us. "We need to go," he told George, handing him the guitar. "I need to drop Daisy off at work."

George took the guitar. "Actually, I'm off today. How about we both take her and then the two of us can hang out?"

Mario shrugged. "Sure. My car or yours?"

"Yours. My truck is too small for the three of us." George put the guitar back in the passenger side of his truck and grabbed his school bag.

I just followed them. This was going to be awkward to say the least. There had been some bad blood beginning to boil between them, something that felt like a rivalry, and now I was going to have to spend fifteen minutes trapped in a vehicle with the feeling.

The doors closed and silence fell over us. I wasn't sure what to say, so I stayed quiet and let the atmosphere be. The only time any of us spoke was when Mario pulled to the curb at Scott's and said, "We're here. Have a good day at work."

"Have a good day," George echoed. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Sounds good," I said as I got out. They drove off and I headed inside. Not quite as awkward as I anticipated, but it was bad enough.

---

After work, I had Larry drive by the school. I wanted to see if they both survived the afternoon. George had said they were at the school still, and I just had to see it.

When we went past, they were sitting on the tailgate of George's truck, laughing. I smiled to myself. If they were friends, I hoped they'd lay off each other, give me room to breathe. I almost felt like they were playing tug-of-war with me, and I had an inkling about why, but I didn't want to give ear to those thoughts just yet.

Larry was also looking. "Is that...?"

I nodded. "Mario and George."

He turned his attention back to the road and drove on. "Glad to see they're getting along."

"Makes two of us."

We were almost home before he spoke again. "Where do you go on Friday nights?"

"Work. Where else?"

"Yes, I know you work. But the play is usually over by eight or nine, if it's long. Where do you go afterwards? You don't get home until after ten."

I shrug. "Mario and I hang out. He picks me up, we drive around, he drops me off. No big deal."

Larry glanced at me. "You agreed to this?"

"He doesn't kidnap me."

He rolled his eyes. "I mean, why? Why did you agree?"

"We're friends, end of story."

"No, not end of story. Daze, he likes you. Do you know that?"

I sighed. "Yes, of course, I know that. He told me."

Larry looked at me, surprised. "He told you?"

"Well, yeah, the Monday after he tried to kiss me. He acknowledged it."

He was quiet a moment. "What did George say?"

I looked down at my lap. "He, um, doesn't know." At Larry's glance, I spoke faster. "I told George that he didn't when he ran into us the other night. I was worried he was about to do something to Mario, so I fibbed."

Larry just looked at me. "I don't think that was the best thing to do."

I covered my face with my hands, rubbing it for a moment before turning to him. "I did what was best at the time and I don't regret that. I'll probably tell George at some point, but not now." Larry sighed but didn't contradict me.

---

The week flew by. Now that Mario and George were more or less friends, the feeling of being fought over lessened. They seemed to have calmed down and come to an understanding of some sort.

Before I knew it, Friday had come around again. Kenny and I hung out at work in our downtime. I was beginning to understand the ebb and flow of customers. It was quite fascinating to me. Certain times our calls spiked and other times all we had were the ones coming to get their hair and nails done. In between that, there was a lot of time where nothing was going on.

Then there were days that had emergencies. Like this one day, a woman and her young daughter got there in a rush. The girl had put food coloring all over her blond hair and now it was green. Those days were interesting too.

That being said, Fridays were still easily my favorite day of the week. I got to see a play, do someone's makeup, and then I got to see Mario when it was all over. My second favorite day was Saturday, when I would spend time with Susan and George. But, more and more, I looked forward to seeing Mario. I got to see a side none of the others did. This side was more fun. That, to me, was part of what made it special.

This day, Mario met me at his car after the play. He pulled up to the road and stopped. "How late can you stay out?"

"Twelve, as long as I let my dad know where I'm going and who I'm with."

He nodded. "That gives us enough time." He looked the clock. 8:15. "Tell him you're going with a friend to Denver."

I reached for my phone. "Denver?"

He nodded. "Denver."

"What's there that you want to show me?"

He smiled over. "You'll see, if you want to go."

I looked at the clock. "It's going to take, like, thirty minutes or more to get there from here."

"I know. I went there earlier this week."

"Where are we even going?"

He grinned at me. "To see a show at Cervantes' Masterpiece. It starts at nine and doors close a couple of hours later, getting you home right on time. It's for sixteen and up."

I pulled out my phone and called Dad. He answered on the first ring. "Hey, Dad. I'm going to be out until my curfew tonight."

"Why?"

"A friend and I were heading out to do stuff, and I need to know when you want me back."

A beat of silence. "Who's this friend?"

I glanced over. "Mario."

"Where are you going?"

"To see a show."

"Where, exactly?"

"Denver. It's going to be over at eleven, so we'd be back before midnight."

"What are you going to see?"

"I don't know – he won't tell me. All I know is that it's a sixteen and up show."

He was quiet fora few minutes. "Fine. Be back before midnight. Eleven-thirty, preferably, if you can. Now, let me talk to Mario."

I covered the mouthpiece. "He says we can go, but he wants to talk to you," I whispered to Mario.

He nodded and pulled out, heading towards Denver. "Hello, Mr. Jenkins." He mostly listened or said "okay" or "of course". After what felt like a long time, he said, "Mr. Jenkins, I wouldn't do anything to your girl. She's my best friend. I'll drive as safely as possible, and I'll make sure she gets home before her curfew. I promise." He listened another minute or two. "Don't worry about her, Mr. Jenkins. She's in good hands. I promise I'll return her like I found her."

A minute later, they said goodbye and Mario handed my phone back. "What was that all about?"

He shook his head, almost laughing. "He seems to be convinced that I've got ulterior motives."

"Well, his daughter is going last-minute with some guy he's never met out of town at night."

"When you put it that way, I can kind of see what he means." He shook his head, smiling to himself. I looked over at him. In the moment, I felt a strong pull to him. We were sitting at a red light, which was casting a glow over us. The way his face had lit up and the charm it added to him made me want to reach out and-

I turned my head to look out my window but was too late. The image of my hand on his face, our lips touching, was burned into my brain. I tried to will it away, which took more effort than I realized.

"Everything okay? You're not beginning to wonder about me, too, are you?" A moment passed and he touched my shoulder. "Daze?"

I shook my head. "Everything's fine. Don't worry." I turned back towards him. The image flashed through my mind again, but I tried to act like it wasn't. "So, what are we going to see? This better be good."

"Don't worry, it will be." He gave me his trademark grin, and I couldn't help returning it. For the moment, basking in his smile, all was forgotten. I could only focus on the now instead of the what ifs and what I could have done. That was how I felt it should be.