"I don't know about you, McClish," he said as he patted his belly. "I just don'tknow."
"What do you want to know?" Iasked.
We hadn't ventured into the realm of discussing more than the basics of my life, and that was good enough for me. Owen knew I owned a technology firm—didn't think it was necessary to mention that it was the biggest one in the world—and I lived in California. The rest of it was just details, and I couldn't find a reason to share them with Owen. It wasn't that he wouldn't care or wasn't interested, but that I didn't want to spend all of our time talking about me. He and this quaint town were the most interesting things I'd ever encountered, and I wanted to soak up all ofit.
He considered his whiskey for a moment before saying, "You're from California? That's where you grew up?" He sipped, and then shot me a sharp glance. "It would explain alot."
He didn't look at me long, and that was fair. I wasn't much to look at. Bruised, swollen, blood dried black around the laceration. I rarely indulged in vanity but I wasn't accustomed to beinghideous.
"I am," I said carefully. I longed for a drink to occupy my mouth and hands. I hadn't thought that far ahead before venturing out here. "But—I mean—not the California most people associate withCalifornia."
Owen regarded me over his glass, an eyebrow bent. "There are multipleCalifornias?"
I murmured in agreement. "Northern and Southern," I said. "But there's more to it than that. It's a collection of ecosystems more complex than anything contained within conventional notions of statehood." Both of Owen's eyebrows were arching up into his hairline now. "When people think of California, they think of Los Angeles and San Diego. Surfing, beaches, girls roller-skating in bikinis. But that's not the whole story. You have the South Coast but also the North and Central Coasts. There's the Sacramento Valley, the San Joaquin Valley, andTheValley. There's the Cascades, the Sierras, and the Inland Empire. And then there are the big cities. Bay Area, Los Angeles, and SanDiego."
"That was an extremely long way of telling me that California is a big place," he said. "This is why you're not allowed totalk."
I leaned toward him and rapped my knuckles on the arm of his chair. "I forgot about Orange County. Add that to thelist."
"Is that where you live?" Owen asked. "Or where you'refrom?"
He grabbed the front of his t-shirt and fanned himself with the fabric. I thought about inviting him to take it off. Strip down. If that didn't offer enough relief, we could wade into the water and hold each other under the ripe moonlight and…ahhhh. I went from zero to pervert in three secondsflat.
I bobbled my head, trying to shake that idea loose. "No and no," I said, laughing to stifle a growl of desire. "Like I said, people associate California with beaches and bikinis, but that's not how it is for everyone. I grew up about three hours east of San Diego, right along the Colorado River and the Arizona border. It's hot and dry and mostly flat, and the only kind of trouble you can get into out there is stupidtrouble."
"You speak from experience," Owen said. "Nearly running your boat aground isn't your first brush with being a damn fool, I takeit."
Why did I enjoy this man's insults so much? I couldn't explain it, but I wanted him to keep going. Pick apart my privilege-soaked preferences and deride my expensive polo shirts. Tear down my quirky-for-the-sake-of-wonky mannerisms. Strip it allaway.
"If you're asking whether I hacked into Agua Fria High's student information system and deleted all of my unexcused absences from skipping ninety percent of my calculus classes—" I held up my hands and then let them fall. "Then, yes, I might've found myself in a bit oftrouble."
"Of course," Owenmuttered.
"But I'll have you know," I added, "I only got caught because I took the final exam. The teacher didn't recognize me. I should've skipped that too, and then hacked back into the SIS to give myself a grade. Should've. Didn't. Me and my goddamnmorals."
Owen stared at me for a long moment, his eyes narrowed and his brow crinkled. "Are there any consequences in your world,McClish?"
"There are," I said, breaking away from his gaze. "There are definitely consequences." I cleared my throat as I sneaked a glance at him. His attention was on the stars now. "Anyway, I live in PaloAlto."
"Which is in the Bay Area," Owen supplied. "Near SanFrancisco."
"Right," I said. "My sisters are all over the place. One in Denver, the other outside Baltimore. My mom lives in Palm Springs now. I tried convincing her to check out Balboa Island or Marina del Rey, but she prefers the inescapable heat. I only visit her in the winter. I can't deal with summer in the desert. I feel like I'm trapped in a dehydrator and turning into beefjerky."
"You'd make for some fine jerky," Owen said,laughing.
"As would you, Bartlett," I replied. There was no humor in my tone, but I couldn't hold back thesmile.
"I'd gnaw on you," he continued, eyeing mytorso.
My heart was in my throat, thumping fast as I tried to breathe, swallow,think.
What the actual fuck was happening here? Was he…hitting onme?
No. Of course not. This was an awkward bit of humor gone astray, not a revelatory moment where we simultaneously flashed our queercards.
Or maybe it was exactly thatmoment.
"I'm not a piece of jagged, dried-out meat," I said indignantly. "I'm tender, juicymeat."
