The Naughty List Ch. 01

"... This part. Never fully understood the conjugation for these verbs, to be honest..."

"A ver..." Ernesto mutters. He pulls his chair closer to mine, until the back corner of my seat was almost nestled in between his legs. He then grabs the top rail of my chair's back post, placing his other elbow onto the table and his thumb to his lips, peering over my shoulder. His eyes are glued to the workbook, not me, but the sudden proximity makes me gush a little. If the chair I was sitting on were to suddenly vanish, I'd lose balance and fall right into his lap.

At that moment, I question how anyone was able to get any work done during these tutoring sessions. The rules of grammar are explained to me in the smoothest, lilted Argentinian accent, but with such a beautiful distraction constantly entering my line of vision, I had to force myself to pay attention.

"Does that make sense?" Ernesto then asks me, out of nowhere.

I blink.

"... Sorry, I was totally zoned out." Shit. Why did I have to admit that out loud.

Ernesto simply looks at me, with a blank expression. Mentally panicking, I clear my throat. "I-I'm really sorry. I just... struggle with grammar, sometimes."

Ernesto smiles gently. "It's okay, grammar is hard. We'll take it slow." He pulls out the textbook from his backpack, and flips the pages to the lesson in question. "And if it's any consolation, I think your Spanish is very good. You pronunciate words very well, which I appreciate. You must have good ears."

I blink again. "I do?"

"Sí. For example, when you say 'porque', you actually say 'porque'. Amanda says it like... porrr-kayyy,"

He imitates her white-girl voice while making a ridiculous face. I snort out loud in response-- a little more loudly and less graceful than I'd have hoped-- but Ernesto simply giggles upon seeing my reaction.

"You should keep learning Spanish, Quentin. If you ever come visit Buenos Aires after I leave, I'll show you around."

A mixture of happiness and sadness hit me. Happiness because holy shit, did Ernesto just offer to hang out with me in Argentina? Even if it was just his usual polite-talk, I was definitely going to take him up on that offer sometime after graduation.

But also sadness because... well, it was also a reminder that he was eventually going to leave this town to go back home. His presence here in San Nicolas was only temporary. Damn. Even if we weren't super close, I was really going to miss him.

For the remainder of the session, I let Ernesto's soothing, Argentinian accent teach me the ins and outs of verb conjugation. He was encouraging and patient throughout the whole process, turning even the driest Spanish lesson into something completely immersive. He would probably make a great teacher, I mentally note to myself.

Unfortunately, being immersed also means time goes by that much quicker. Before we realized, the hour-long tutoring session had been up already.

"... That's it for today. Hope that all made sense to you?" Ernesto asks me one last time, with another gentle smile.

"Yeah! Thanks for explaining all that, you really helped me grasp all this better than I would have on my own."

"Well, that's why I'm here," he laughs. He gets up to start collecting his things, and I do the same. As I pick up some papers, the tattoo on my palm peeks into my sight. Oh, right. That was why I came here, huh.

I nervously glance over to Ernesto, who now was seemingly jotting notes about the session into his TA worksheet. He looks up, after noticing me simply standing there.

"... Everything okay, Quentin?"

I bite my lips, and look down. To be honest... everything wasn't okay. Because right now, Ernesto was right there. He was so close, and so real. If I reached out my hand, I would feel the warmth of his skin against mine. But starting from next week, I knew people were going to crowd these tutoring sessions again. And my opportunities to talk to Ernesto would be relegated to the occasional small talk we'd have before class began. And then... he'll permanently leave this town. The distance between us, both literal and metaphorical, was only going to keep growing farther and farther.

I liked Ernesto, a lot. Probably more than I should have. But deep inside, I accepted that he'll never view me the same way I viewed him. He wasn't gay. I was. My innermost fantasies never stood a chance against the cold, hard reality that stood before me. Why even bother dreaming, if it was going to hurt me in the end?

I mentally laugh at myself, and the cruel fate that destined me for disappointment. Fuck. I wish I wasn't born this way. I wish I wasn't gay. I wish I could turn off the switch inside my head that made me attracted to guys who I knew will never like me back. I would trade anything in the world to live a life where my gender didn't automatically rule me out from having a chance with someone like Ernesto.

I look down at my palm again. If I grabbed his hand now, maybe this could all change. Maybe, for once, I'll be allowed to dream. And let go of all of my inhibitions that held me back. Maybe, for once, I'll be allowed to fully just be... me.

"... Quentin?" Ernesto asks one more time, his voice soft. He's giving me a look of genuine concern.

I hesitantly open my mouth, still looking down.

"I-I'm okay, Ernesto. Thanks for asking..."

He looks at me with a curious look, but slowly nods his head.

"... Okay. Get home safe then, okay?"

He turns around, and is about to make his way to the door.

"Ernesto, wait!"

Before I could even find the answers to the questions I was asking myself, I've extended my hand towards him, interlocking my fingers with his. Ernesto turns back around, but then immediately freezes upon looking into my eyes. The tattoo on my palm, along with his deep brown eyes, begins to glow a mysterious, scarlet color. The windows of the library are tightly shut, but a sudden gust of wind blows through the room, seemingly swirling around both of our bodies. My own eyes widen in shock.

Once the blast of chilly air passes, the loose papers around us gently settle back onto the table.

"... E-Ernesto...?"

I cautiously call his name. After a short pauses, he looks at me. And then-- much to my own surprise, and without any explanation-- he pulls me in and brings our lips together.

To be continued...