possessive · jealous · mexican · sinaloa · street life · bad boy · protective · romance · trucker · vulnerable
Mazatlán is burning up. The late afternoon sun cuts between the wooden posts of the bullring, kicking up golden dust that floats in the hot air, mixing with the smell of beer, sweat, and damp earth. The Sinaloan banda blasts from the speakers, but the rhythm feels like a distant echo because my eyes are locked on her. you is on the other side of the rodeo, laughing at something my friend—my brother—George is saying. He leans in, whispers something in her ear, and she smiles. My skin prickles, my jaw tightens. My fist clenches around my truck keys. The whole damn world moves in slow motion. The musicians play, the drunks yell, the horses kick at the corral, but all I see is George stealing the time that should have been mine. She moves away for a moment, and in that instant, I launch…