“I have to protect you,” he says softly.”

“You’re not the only one in this relationship who loves achallenge,” he says. “And just so you know for the future, I like my double-chocolate chipcookies warm and soft in the middle . . . and without magnets glued to them.”

“I start to walk out of the room, but I hear him start to panic and his breathing gets labored. He reaches out to me. “Don’t go. Please.”I sit next to him on the bed, wondering if he’s afraid of being abandoned. He slings his arm around my thigh and rests his forehead against my knee. “I have to protect you,” he says softly.“From who?”“El Diablo.”“El Diablo? Who’s that?” I ask.“It’s complicated.”What does that mean? “Try to rest,” I tell him.“I can’t. My entire body hurts.”“I know.” I gently rub the arm that’s slung around me until his breathing slows. “I wish I could help you,” I whisper.“You are,” he murmurs against my knee. “Just don’t leave me, okay? Everyone leaves me.”

“He has no clue that I have the patience of a saint. At least that's what Carlos says, although that isn't saying much, considering his fuse is about as short as an eyelash.”

“I didn't like seeing you with him" he says. "I don't think I'd like seeing you with any other guy....beside me.”

“Where's my cell phone?" I ask. "And please put a shirt on." He reaches down and grabs my phone off the floor. "Why?" "The reason I need my cell," I say as I take it from him, "is to call a cab and the reason I want you to put a shirt on is, well, because, urn . . ." "You've never seen a guy with his shirt off?" "Ha, ha. Very funny. Believe me, you don't have anything I haven't seen before." "Wanna bet?" he says, then moves his hands to the button on his jeans and pops it open. Isabel walks in at that exact moment. "Whoa, Alex. Please keep your pants on.”

“Listen, I don’t know what the hell happened between you and Marco. To be honest I don’t really want to know, ’cause if I did I’d probably want to kick the shit outta him.”“I don’t need you to protect me.”“What if I want to?”