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
