Novels by Yasmin

Alejandro’s POV I watched him — the so-called “best tutor” my mother could find — standing there in my doorway, fidgeting like he was debating whether to run or faint.I let my eyes drift over him slowly, from the wrinkled shirt clinging to his narrow shoulders to the loose jeans hanging a little too low on his hips. He looked like he hadn’t slept properly in days. Yet, somehow, he was… cute.I knew him. I’d seen him around campus — always sitting in the front row, hand up every five minutes, glasses perched on his nose like he thought the sun rose and set for textbooks. I’d never cared to learn his name until tonight.“Hey,” he stammered, his voice soft, awkward. “I’m Mateo.”I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “Yeah, you said that before.”He blinked. “Oh.”Something about the way his ears turned pink made me want to smile, but I caught myself. This wasn’t supposed to be cute. This was supposed to be irritating — another of my mother’s desperate attempts to fix

Mateo's POVI wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, exhausted from closing out my third shift of the day. My feet ached inside my worn sneakers, and the smell of fryer oil clung stubbornly to my clothes no matter how hard I scrubbed them at night. My stomach growled faintly—I hadn’t had more than a stale sandwich since dawn.“Mateo!” one of my coworkers nudged me with his elbow, jerking his chin toward the front. “There’s some fancy car outside… the guy’s been asking for you.”I frowned. “For me?”He nodded, smirking like it was some kind of joke. “Yeah. A black one. Look. Too sleek to be around here. Looks like it rolled straight out of a billionaire’s garage.”I wiped my hands nervously on my apron and glanced toward the glass doors of the small convenience diner we worked in. Sure enough, parked across the street was a shiny, jet-black car. Tinted windows. Polished so much it reflected the streetlamps like liquid.It didn’t belong here, not in this neighb

ALEJANDRO’S POVThe Castillo Mansion was a cathedral of quiet wealth.And it was a cold and quiet as a graveyard. long mahogany table. Crystal chandelier. Expensive china no one ever touched without gloves. The kind of place that was built for the dead rather than the living.But here we were, for me, twenty one years and counting.I sat across from my little brother, Diego, who was, as always, hunched over his phone, fingers tapping fast. God only knows what he was really doing on his phone since he failed to have friends and made it his personal statement that social media was for retards like me.My mother, Isabella, looked radiant in a soft silk blouse, though she kept glancing nervously at my father at the head of the table.She was like a quiet trophy wife, just present to keep my father's name as a husband and father.Guillermo Castillo.Head of Castillo Pharmaceuticals. My father. My nightmare.He was cutting his steak with surgeon-like precision, silent, sharp and every mo

ALEJANDRO’S POVAs I passed the school's locker room, I felt a way of nostalgia hit me as the smell of chlorine hit me, and it wasn't the good nostalgia.It was the memories I wanted to bury forever but it kept popping up.---The middle school locker room had this mix of damp towels, body spray, and sweat. My hair was still dripping from swim practice, and my head buzzed with that post-practice lightness. The sound of boys laughing, lockers slamming, and sneakers squeaking on the wet floor echoed everywhere.I was in as many sports as possible because my father took pride in sports.And that was when it happened.It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t something I thought about. It just… happened.We were talking about baseball. Me and Luis Hernandez—the kid with the fastest throw on the team, the one who always chewed gum like he didn’t give a fuck in the world.Of course, chewing gum was prohibited, but Luiz's parents were on the school board so the principal couldn't do anything.He did a