Risking it All
Copyright © 2020 Isabel Lucero
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without prior written consent of the author except where permitted by law. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events depicted in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication and use of these trademarks are not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. If you have obtained a copy of this book without purchasing it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please delete the file and purchase a copy legally. This novel is for your enjoyment only and may not be resold or given to other people.
Published and formatted by Isabel Lucero
Cover Design by Robin Harper at Wicked by Design
Edited by Kay Springsteen
Contents
1. Merrick
2. Merrick
3. Alejandro
4. Alejandro
5. Merrick
6. Merrick
7. Alejandro
8. Alejandro
9. Merrick
10. Merrick
11. Alejandro
12. Merrick
13. Alejandro
14. Alejandro
15. Merrick
16. Merrick
17. Alejandro
18. Merrick
19. Alejandro
20. Merrick
21. Alejandro
22. Merrick
23. Alejandro
24. Merrick
25. Alejandro
26. Merrick
27. Merrick
28. Alejandro
29. Merrick
30. Alejandro
31. Merrick
32. Alejandro
33. Merrick
34. Alejandro
35. Merrick
36. Alejandro
37. Merrick
38. Alejandro
39. Alejandro
40. Merrick
41. Merrick
42. Alejandro
43. Merrick
44. Alejandro
45. Alejandro
46. Merrick
47. Alejandro
48. Merrick
49. Alejandro
50. Merrick
51. Alejandro
52. Merrick
53. Alejandro
54. Merrick
Epilogue
Merrick’s Statement
Preview of On the Rocks
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Isabel Lucero
1
Merrick
10 Years Ago
“So, what’re we gonna do this summer?” Ali asks, taking a sip of beer.
“Shit, it’s not like we have many options. We can have bonfires out at the circle of trees. Go to the mall or the pool.” I take a drink out of my own beer bottle. “I’m fine just hanging out here. Me and the guys set up in the garage and just play music. Maybe we can find some events to play at.”
Ali nods and then puts the joint between his lips and inhales. He’s not real close with Jay, Carlos, or Sky, but they don’t hate each other either. Sometimes he hangs out in the garage when we play, but usually it’s just me and the guys, and occasionally some girls, depending on who’s dating who at the time.
“Your brother’s not home, is he?” he questions, passing me the joint.
“Nah. I think he’s at work.”
Me and Ali sit on the steps leading to my backyard, drinking the beer he swiped from his mom’s house and smoking the joint we got from Leo—the known pothead of our high school.
“You’re lucky you always have the house to yourself,” he says. “My mom’s always up my ass about something. I gotta clean, do homework, cut the grass, help my sister with something. It’s never ending.”
I finish the beer and open another one. “Yeah, but at least you have a mom.”
Ali cringes. “Sorry, bro. I forget. I’m grateful I have her, but. . .you know.”
“Don’t worry about it. I get it. Elijah makes me do shit around the house, too. It’s not like I don’t have a parent figure. He definitely acts like my dad, so it’s not like it’s easy around here.”
We’re silent for a minute, drinking and smoking, even though we both know we shouldn’t be doing either. We’re only sixteen, but it’s not like we’re the only people doing it. Our school is crawling with kids who are eager to do both. Some do it to fit in or be cool, but I started doing it in the hopes that it would keep certain thoughts at bay.
My parents died when I was eleven, leaving my oldest brother to care for me and my other two brothers. It’s hard thinking about them and knowing they’ll never be around again. Sometimes you need their advice and guidance, especially as you grow older.
I met Alejandro last year, and quickly started calling him Ali. He says he hates it, but I think he’s gotten used to it by now. He decided to get me back by calling me by my last name, but that doesn’t bother me.
Any time I’m not with the band, I’m with him. We became fast friends, and soon after, I started having these feelings. . .these urges.
Sometimes I want to kiss Ali. He makes me laugh constantly, and his smile makes me smile. My heart has threatened to burst out of my chest when I’ve been in his room and he started undressing. I’m not supposed to think about him like that, but I can’t help it. He’s the first person I’ve felt any sort of attraction to. At least like this.
Sure, I’ve seen guys on TV who I’ve thought were good-looking, but women are pretty, too. I just don’t feel anything when I look at them. I feel everything when I look at Ali.
Me and him can talk about anything. Well, almost. I haven’t told him about this. How can you tell your same-sex friend that you find him attractive? How can you admit to something that you don’t really want to acknowledge yourself?
Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m gay, and I don’t know how to deal with that. So I drink and I smoke and I try to pretend I’m into girls. That’s what most sixteen-year-olds do, right?
But there are moments, very brief moments, when I think Ali might like me too. Not just as friends, but as more. Maybe I’m seeing things that I want to see. Maybe he doesn’t glance at my lips when I talk. Perhaps that tiny little lip bite he did when I took off my shirt to jump in the pool was meant for someone else.
“What do you think about Mindy?” I ask, drinking more of the bitter tasting beer.
“What about her?” he asks, his voice dripping with disgust.
I laugh. “You don’t think she’s cute?”
“Fuck no!”
“Why not?” I ask, laughing
