"Papa, we need to talk," I said to my father as he sat on the couch watching soccer.

        He waved me off. "Not now, Iago."

        "No." I moved closer. "We need to talk now. This can't keep happening."

        Him barging in on me and Estella and the way he acted was the last straw. He couldn't keep doing this and getting away with it. I refused to allow him to ruin my life and make me as miserable as him and my mother.

        My father squinted his eyes. "What exactly is happening?"

        "Mama is depressed."

        My father jerked his head back. "Qué?"

        "Mama is depressed," I said. "All she does is sleep, work, eat, watch telenovelas and drink. She doesn't see people anymore. She doesn't cook, clean or do anything around the house. She barely talks to us. I've walked in on her crying on multiple occasions. It's like she's a zombie."

        He shrugged. "Everyone gets depressed."

        "Not everyone is consistently depressed for months," I said. "That's when it becomes an illness."

        "Okay," he said. "What do you want me to do about it? She's depressed. Great. What am I supposed to do?"

        "She has a drinking problem," I pointed out. "And so do you."

        My father chuckled. "Iago, what is this?"

        "I can't take this anymore, Papa," I said. "I hate being home. All you guys do is drink, get wasted and ignore me. I have to do all the cooking and cleaning around here."

        "Might as well do something around here, Iago." My father stood up and walked over to me. "At least your mother and I work. What do you do? Other than dancing for free at your fancy school. You should be getting a job and helping us out around here, but we let you do your extracurriculars instead so you can feel like one of them. But you're not. You live above our means."

        "You're turning this on me."

        This was about him and my mother. Not me.

        "You do," he said. He touched my Beats headphones. "Look at these fancy headphones."

        "Brice gave them to me."

        He bought me two Beats for my last birthday.

        "We allow you to be in your hip-hop company," he said, "spending money we don't have. You shouldn't even have your own car if we wanted to cut down on costs, but we allow you to."

        "I need a car," I said. "The bus doesn't pick me up."

        "You don't need anything," he retorted. "You just want because everyone else has."

        "You still have a drinking problem."

        "What do you want me to do, Iago?" he said with his arms out in frustration. "Your mother's apparently depressed. I have a drinking problem, so what do we do? Do you think we're like your rich friends' parents who as soon as they get depressed, we can instantly put them on some antipsychotics—"

        "Antidepressants."

        "Whatever," he said. "You think we can pay for some fancy therapist who we'll see every week to talk about shit I can be telling you right now—for free. Maybe you want me to pull some money outta my ass so I can take myself to rehab for my drinking problem. I guess we could get your mother her antidepressants, her therapist and get me into rehab. We could. If we wanted to be evicted for not paying mortgage. Of all the things we need to focus on, do you really think this is our priority, right now? When life gets tough, we suck it up. We don't run to no rehab or therapy for help."

        "Things could be better," I said. "Maybe if Mama wasn't depressed or the two of you didn't drink your days away, maybe it'll all get better. You guys could find better jobs or progress at work. I don't know, Papa, but we need to change something."

        "Because I kicked that girl out."

        "You hate my friends."

        "For good reason."

        "No," I said. "You hate them because if I didn't know any better, I'll say you're jealous of them." My father's eyes widened. "You wish you were as spoiled and as fortunate as they are, so you take your anger out on them. I don't hate them for their privilege, but that doesn't mean I'm blinded by it."

        "They're not really your friends."

        I did admit that I kept them at an arms-length, but they knew me better than my own family. Especially Estella. I felt like my father ruined that day with her, and I couldn't take this anymore.

        "Estella has been nothing but kind to me, and you treated her with utter disrespect."

        My father crossed his arms. "Is this your form of rebellion?"

        "What?"

        "First, you befriend those pijos," he said. "They're nothing like you. Sure they give you fancy Beats headphones, but that's all they can give—materialistic things. Now, you're hanging out with this Estella girl. Again, she's nothing like you. Is this a form of self-hatred?"

        "Papa."

        "Is that why you're so dismissive of Ximena?" he asked. "Because she is like you? But no. You're running around with this new black girl. Are you cheating on Ximena?"

        It wasn't possible to "cheat" on Ximena.

        "No."

        "Maybe not physically," he said. "What man invites another woman to his house, cooks for her, and watches a movie with her without it being some form of cheating? Don't even think about getting with this girl."

        "That's not your choice to make."

        I'd been thinking about Estella a lot lately, and I kept asking myself if I wanted to be with her. I honestly didn't know. The way she made me feel was similar to how Sabrina used to make me feel, but at the same time, it was different. But I didn't know what I wanted.

        "If you wanna experiment, go do it with another black girl," he said. "Hell, maybe an Asian. Anyone who's nothing like you. Because you hate yourself so much. You hate us so much. Be with anyone but Estella. I don't like her."

        "This isn't about race," I made sure to clarify. "This isn't even about Estella, at least not completely. I don't hate myself. If anything, I finally want to be myself."

        "You are yourself."

        "No one knows me," I said, my voice raising. "Not my family. Not even my friends. The closest person who knows me partially is Estella, and I've only known her for a couple months."

        "That's who you are," he said. "You're a loner."

        "That's not who I am," I countered. "That's who I've had to be."

        "You don't have to be anything."

        "Exactly," I agreed. "I don't wanna be like this anymore. I want people to know me, and I want to be free to do so. I don't want to be afraid anymore."

        "Don't," he said, "but you can find other friends. You don't have to associate with these people."

        "It's my choice."

        I turned to leave, but he stopped me. "Not in my house, it isn't."

        "You can't control who I hang out with and who I don't."

        "Yes, I can."

        I clenched my fists. "You're the problem. In all of this, the problem is you."

        "Excuse me?"

        I stared him in the eye. "Mama is depressed because of you. She's in a loveless marriage with a man who didn't give her the life he promised. Santiago and Diego left the state to get away from you, and no one really knows me because I shut everyone out. I shut them out so they won't hurt me like you do. I shut them out so they won't come to my house and see this mess. I shut them out because that's all you've ever taught me to do. You're the problem in this family."

        His fist collided with my jaw, sending me back.

        "Jorge!" My mother ran down the stairs as my father grabbed me by the collar.

        He slammed me against the wall with a snarl. "You foolish boy!"

        "Pare, Jorge." My mother tried prying him off of me. "Por favor."

        This was the liveliest I'd seen her in months.

        "You will not see that girl," he repeated. "She'll only make you feel bad about yourself."

       "No, Papa," I said. "That's your job. You're the one who makes me feel like shit. She's the one who actually makes me feel like I'm enough. When I do something well, she acknowledges it. She encourages me. When have you done that?"

        He pulled his fist back for another blow, but my mother grabbed his arm. "Jorge, no!"

        "Cállate, Priscilla." He tried shaking her off of him, and he elbowed her in the face.

        "Mama!" I pushed him off of me as my mother stumbled back. She touched her bleeding lip while my father stood back.

        "Lo siento," was all he said, and I turned around to glare at him.

        "Like I said, you're the problem."

        He returned my glare. "Get out."

        My mother lifted her head up. "Jorge."

        "Get out," my father said. "You wanna act like a big boy, make big boy decisions, then go find a place to stay. Let's see if any of these friends will take you in since I'm the enemy."

        "Por favor," my mother said with tears setting in her eyes.

        My father shook his head. "Pack your things and go."

        "Iago." My mother tried to grab my arm, but I freed myself and ran up the stairs.

        I moved around my room frantically, needing to get the hell out of this place. It was suffocating and infuriating, and I had to go. I stuffed some clothes and things into a duffel bag, and I grabbed my phone to head out. Both my parents stood near the door, and I walked past the both of them to get through.

        "Iago!" my mother shouted, but my father didn't say a word.

        I didn't have any words either. When I hopped into Verda, I threw my stuff into the backseat, and I was on my way to nowhere. I blasted my radio and sang along to the music as I moved my head to the beat.

        Brice was iffy about his house, and going uninvited was not a good idea. Oliver was an option, but we rarely hung out one-on-one, and he would question me nonstop on why I was there. The dude talked too much. Then there was Tyler. He talked a lot as well, about shit no one gave a damn about. I was not in the mood for his rants about molecular structures and the lifespan of stars. Ximena was at college, and that was a long trip. There was only one person left.

        Estella.

        I hit the wheel with a groan. "Fuck!"

        She told me her father was away on vacation with his new girlfriend, so that wasn't a problem, but did I want to be alone with her?

        Yes.

        No.

        I didn't know.

        I still drove to her house, and I parked Verda. I grabbed my duffel bag, and I made it to the front door. It only took her a couple seconds to open the door.

        She smiled but her expression dropped when she saw me. "Jax."

        I swallowed and cleared my throat. "I'm homeless."

        She perked a brow. "How did this happen? Is your family homeless, too?"

        I shook my head. "Just me. I had the audacity to confront my dad. Then again, you don't really know the situation with my dad. You don't know a lot of things."

        She placed a hand on my arm and pulled me inside. "Why don't you fill me in then?"

        I came in, and Estella closed the door behind me as I walked deeper into the house. I placed the duffel bag down and turned to face her. She sent me a sad smile.

        "Your jaw." She reached for it, and I pulled back. She met my gaze, and her eyes said it all, so I let her. Her touch was so careful and gentle that it didn't even hurt. "What happened?"

        "Part of the dad situation."

        She eyed me. "So, you're homeless and you come to me? The girl you're not interested in?"

        "I never said that."

        "You never said you were interested either."

        Because it was complicated. Me being interested in her didn't mean I wanted to date her. If I said something, it could mislead her. I may have been misleading myself, too.

        "I trust you," I said. "Out of everyone, I trust you the most when it comes to stuff like this."

        "Then why don't you tell me everything that happened, and tell me about this situation with your dad." She sat on the couch and patted the spot next to her. "Come on. Sit."

        I hesitated, but I sat beside her. Everything in me told me not to tell her, but I told her. About my father's drinking. My mother's depression. The situation at home. My father hating my friends and hating her. The big confrontation and ultimate fight.

        She patted my knee. "I'm sorry, Jax."

        "I'll probably just stay here for tonight," I said. "I'll be leaving tomorrow. I don't care what he says. He's not kicking me out."

        She nodded. "Daddy doesn't come back for another two days."

        "Are you gonna tell him I was here?"

        "Hell no."

        I smirked. "What'd I say about cursing?"

        "It's 'hell.' That's barely a curse word. What are you? Daddy?"

        "I'm not," I said. "I just want to preserve your pureness." She tilted her head to the side. "Not even so much pureness, more like a light. There's this light that surrounds you, and it makes everything brighter—more hopeful. When I'm around you, I feel it. I'll never want that light to go out. I'll never want to be the cause of it going out."

        I didn't want my darkness turning out her light.

        "Why would it?"

        "When you spend too much time around me," I said. "I don't want to be contagious."

        Estella watched me for a second before a smile took over her lips. "Maybe I can help you find your own light."

        I chuckled. "Corny, but I appreciate it."

        "Come on." She stood up, and I followed suit. "It's getting late. Let me show you to your room for the night."

        She led me upstairs to the guest room. When we passed her room, she pointed it out in excitement, and I laughed. That was the light I was talking about. She showed me to the room, and I put my things down. I was just grateful it was the weekend because this situation would have been even more troublesome if we had school tomorrow.

        A couple minutes later, I went to take a shower, and Estella brought out all the extra materials I needed before giving me some privacy. Being in that shower with the water beating down on me led to my mind wandering. If this was some cheesy romance movie, Estella would barge in and start kissing me in the shower.

        I didn't know why I was even thinking about this, but the thought didn't make me cringe. I wondered what it was like to kiss her. The shower was hot. Would that make her lips softer? Would it make the kiss hotter?

        "Fuck," I muttered under my breath.

        I needed to get out of here. I hurried the rest of my shower, and I hopped out. Estella left me some lotion. I usually didn't use lotion, but why not? I got ready for bed with my pajama pants on, but I stuffed the shirt back into the duffel bag. I never wore a shirt to bed, so I didn't know why I brought it.

        A couple minutes later, the shower was running again, and I knew it was Estella. I tried so hard not to think about it. If she knew I was trying this hard not to think about her naked in the shower, she really would think I was a pervert.

        Maybe I was.

        Or maybe I was just attracted to her.

        Either way, it was frustrating. If I was at one of the boys' place, this wouldn't be a problem. Even when the shower turned off, I tossed and turned in bed. Her room was right next to the guest's. Was she asleep? Or was she having the same trouble sleeping like I was? I spent a good fifteen minutes this way, tossing and turning.

        When I couldn't take it anymore, I sat up straight and climbed out of bed. The whole house was dark, but I maneuvered through it to Estella's room. I knocked on her door.

        "Jax?" Her voice wasn't groggy. I pried the door open and closed it behind me. "What are you doing here?"

        "I can't sleep." I got into her bed, moving behind her. "Does this bother you?"

        "No." Her back continued to face me, so I pulled her close to me and wrapped my arm around her.

        "What about this?" I asked with my face into her neck. She smelled fresh and clean.

        "J-Jax." She released a shaky breath. "What happened to no touching?"

        I moved one hand to her stomach and the other ran along her arm. "I only touch girls I'm interested in." I moved her hair out of the way to plant kisses along her neck up to her ear. "And I'm really interested in you."

       Estella looked back at me, and we stared at each other in the darkness. I didn't know where this sudden courage was coming from, but I couldn't hold it in anymore.

        I placed a hand on her cheek. "You have no idea how much I'm interested in you."

        "Jax—"

        I silenced her with my lips, and she relaxed against me as I kissed her with everything I'd been holding in. All the thoughts, feelings, and built-up emotion came out through that kiss as her lips moved in sync with mine. She grabbed onto my hair, and I moved up to hover over her as our lips continued to find each other. It was soft. It was warm, and the room was getting hot despite my shirt being off.

        Estella suddenly pushed me back, and I continued my kisses along her neck. "Brice. Ximena."

        I groaned against her skin, and she ran her hands along my bare back. "Don't." I looked down at her. "Don't think about Brice. Don't think about Ximena." One of her hands moved up to impend itself into my hair. "Just think about me."

        That was what I was doing. I wasn't thinking about whether I wanted to date her or not. I wasn't thinking about my father or mother. I wasn't thinking about the boys. I wasn't thinking about anything. That moment was all about her.

        Her legs were around me, and I ran my fingers along one of them. "It's only me, you and this dark room." I kissed her lips. "Nothing else. No one else."

       She gently caressed my sore jaw. "Don't forget my light."

        I grabbed her hand and kissed it. "I'll never forget that."

        She stared at me for a second before bringing her lips back to mine, and I reciprocated the kiss. Her hands ran along my chest and back and mine roamed everywhere. We only came up for air every couple minutes, but we always came back for more.

        I didn't care that she was "dating" Brice. I didn't care that I was "dating" Ximena. I didn't care that my father didn't approve of her. I didn't even care that kissing her and having these feelings for her were both exciting and frightening.

         None of it registered in my mind.

        All I felt were her soft lips against mine and her smooth skin beneath my fingers. With that, even the darkness didn't scare me.

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* What do you guys think about Jax confronting his dad? Him going to Estella? #Jestella finally kissing? What do you think will happen next?