Page 11 of Let the Light Shine Through

It’s true I didn’t get a feel for who Gia was into, but I sure as fuck hoped. I hoped…for what exactly? That she’d like me?

I don’t even like me right now.

“Hey, cowboy.”

The object of my thoughts is suddenly staring up at me with that signature smirk of hers. The lights around the yard make all fifty of her bracelets shimmer, causing me to imagine any other jewelry she might have on but isn’t showing.

Fuck. What am I doing?

I swallow thickly. “Cowboy?”

Gia points at my torso with hands that are covered in purple, orange, and blue…chalk?

“Shirtless, abs of steel. Cowboy.”

Ever since I was a toddler, I’ve run hot. There was even a running joke in the media about how I managed to win so many competitions. They liked to say it was because the snow melted away from my heightened body heat. Hell, I would’ve competed shirtless if it wasn’t against regulations.

“You ride, don’t you?”

“Not anymore…” She looks at me expectantly. “But that was a snowboard.”

She waves me off, saying, “It’s all the same.”

Is it though?

Another one of her buddies comes over to pass off a lit joint before leaving us alone again. With her busy studying the glowing red tip, I ask, “What’s with the chalk?”

“I didn’t have any arrows.”

I frown in response and she says, “Cupid’s arrows,” like that explains everything.

After a moment of silence that I normally feel comfortable in, but now feel panicked by, I blurt out, “So,” grasping at another topic, “T.J. was just telling me something interesting about you.”

I wince like my balls just got flicked. Why did I say that? It’s her sexual preference. She doesn’t owe me an explanation.

A dry laugh escapes her throat as she peeks up at me, saying, “I bet B.J. did.”

B.J.? “Do I even want to know what that means?”

She rolls her eyes, finally taking a hit and wincing herself. “Touchy, touchy. Maybe you need this more than I do.”

I accept the expertly rolled joint from her to take a much smaller drag than she did. I don’t care. I don’t have anything to prove to anyone anymore.

“Better?” she asks, and I shake my head, making her laugh. Growing serious, she takes the joint back, staring me down. “How long did you go?”

“Go?”

“Without talking.”

My jaw locks in place.

“Before this afternoon, when I stopped by, how long had it been since you talked to someone else?”

I don’t answer her. I wouldn’t even know how. It’s not like I was counting the weeks. Wait, was it actually weeks?

“And tonight? Have you talked to anyone here?”

I open my mouth, but she’s quick to add, “Other than me?”