Free THE BIG MOVE (Miami Hearts Book 2) by Lexie Ray

my sandals off in favor of feeling the blades of grass beneath my bare feet.
                  “Here’s perfect,” I sighed, settling down on the grass and taking the first bite of my hot dog. “You know, you should’ve changed. I don’t want you to stain your nice clothes.”
                  Xander plopped down beside me, taking an even bigger bite than I had. He didn’t wait to chew and swallow before he began talking, either. “Sol, let me assure you: I give zero shits about my clothes. Erase the worries from your mind.”
                  I laughed at the expression, filing it away for use at a later date.
                  “So, are hot dogs regular fare for you?” Xander asked, watching me launch into mine with gusto. I realized I’d only picked it because it was the closest offering to where I wanted to go — and the cheapest. He had, of course, picked up the negligible tab, but I supposed I could’ve taken us anywhere. I didn’t want to tell him that hot dogs were regular meals. Regular meals were usually whatever I could scrape together with the least amount of time, money, and effort possible.
                  “No, a rare treat,” I said, smiling as I took another nibble of mine. I’d asked for chili, cheese, and onions on the dog, which made it impossible to eat without getting dirty or keeping my dignity intact. Chili cheese hot dogs were a messy task, but one I was definitely up for. Really, I’d just picked it because it seemed like all the protein would stick with me the most, keeping the hunger pangs from gnawing at my stomach later.
                  It was a strange and sad thing to be living in the same kind of poverty here in America, the land of opportunity, as what I’d endured in Honduras. But I had very important reasons for doing so.
                  “I can’t imagine that you eat a lot of hot dogs,” Xander observed. “You’re too skinny for it.”
                  “I can eat whatever I want,” I told him breezily. “The dancing burns everything away.”
                  “Salsa dancing,” he said. “You have some pretty good moves.”
                  “Thanks.” I licked chili residue from my fingers, savoring the spices.
                  “Where’d you learn? Back home?”
                  “Yes.” The bread was getting soggy, so I tried to pick up my pace of eating. It was hard with all this conversation Xander was trying to engage in. Couldn’t he see I was in the middle of something?
                  “And where’s home for you?” he asked.
                  “Cuba,” I said, barely able to get the word out after I stuffed yet another huge bite of the hot dog into my mouth. The lie was getting easier and easier each time I told it. I wondered if, someday, I’d wake up and believe it myself, forgetting about everything and everyone I’d left behind in Honduras.
                  Sometimes, I felt like that would be easier.
                  “Really!” Xander exclaimed, raising his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for Cuban. I’d have lost that bet.”
                  “Why would you have betted in the first place?” I asked, raising my eyebrows to match the expression on his face. “Are you a betting man? Do you like to throw your money around?”
                  “If I have something worth betting on,” he said, smiling and rubbing his thumb in the corner of my mouth. “You have a little chili, just there.”
                  “Thanks,” I said, surprised at the intimate gesture, then my eyes popped open as he sucked the offending chili off his thumb.
                  “I just wanted a taste of yours,” he said by way of explanation, his face the very picture of innocence.
                  “You