Chapter 6: Spicy Men and Phone Numbers

                                    

                                          
a/n: 
                          
YOU GUYS!!!! Walmart Boy got ranked #884 in Humour! I am so, so, so shocked and over the moon about this, especially because I just started this book 2 weeks ago! (And I've never been ranked before!) Thank you so much for your support. I love each and every one of you all and you mean so much to me. I can't believe it and I don't know what I did to deserve you all. 
                          
thank you, thank you, thank you.
                          
enjoy the extra long chapter <3
                          
***
                          
"Are ju telling me he just did that and left?" Santiago asked me, his accent thick on his words. "Like boot de boot, he just went inside as if nothing happened?" 
                          
"Yes!" I spoke exasperatedly, shaking my head. "I was shook, Santiago." 
                          
He wiped down the tables as I swept the floor. Santiago and I worked at this Mexican restaurant a few streets down from my apartment building. We had been friends for quite a while, ever since I started working here two years ago. 
                          
His mama owned the place as she had raised him herself. They had to be my favourite hispanics. He was a full grown man, in his mid-twenties, but he still refused to stop living in his mama's basement because he claimed he was a man-child. 
                          
A man-child was a mix between a man and a child, as explained by Santiago himself. 
                          
"Is he spicy at least?" He asked, referring to how attractive Harry was. 
                          
"He's hot sauce, baby. He's so spicy." I replied, letting out a low whistle, just picturing the sight of his bare and muscular back from two mornings ago. "And not just any hot sauce. He's Sriracha, Peri Peri and Lousiana combined." 
                          
"No," he said in shock, his mouth dropped open as he momentarily stopped his wiping. 
                          
"Yeah," I replied in disbelief, sweeping vigorously as I pictured his beautiful variety of tattoos. 
                          
"Holy shítballs," he spoke in shock. "That's a new level of spicy." 
                          
"Santiago!" I heard Valentina, Santiago's mom, shout from the back kitchen. Just then a flying shoe came out of nowhere, hitting Santiago in the back of his head as he let out an 'oomph'. "No swearing, you stupid boy!" She scolded as Santiago rubbed his head. 
                          
"Mama, not the chanchla in front of ze customers," he whined as a nearby couple stared in shock. 
                          
"Honey, should we call 911? This is abuse," the blonde-headed male spoke as the woman shook her head, her blue eyes watching in excitement. 
                          
"Shut up, Jack. This is front row entertainment." She said before chewing her food and watching in interest, to which Jack shrugged and rested his chin in his palm, watching along with the woman. 
                          
I scoffed, "Man, I don't understand why you swear if you know you're going to get the shoe," I added, continuing sweeping. 
                          
"I love the pain," he spoke in a small voice. I raised an eyebrow and looked at him, only to see him dazed, while staring out the restaurant window, not wiping down the tables anymore. 
                          
"Did you just reveal your pain kink to me?" I questioned as he smirked, still staring out the window. 
                          
"Maybe," he replied before giggling and looking at me. "It's the way I was brought up. You can't run from the pain, so you may as well embrace it. Love the pain, feel the pain, embrace the pain." He spoke as I raised my eyebrows, slightly concerned with what he said.