She kisses my neck, and my heart leaps at being gifted such a sweet gesture. I know how much that means coming from my prickly star-chaser. I hold her close as I start wading through the water to get us back on dry land. When we reach the packed sand, I gently lower her to her feet, thrilled when she runs her palm down my arm to settle her hand in mine.
I never want to let it go. My demon is all but purring in my chest.
Then I realize the folly of my plan: we have no towels. I grab my t-shirt and shake it out, then turn and start drying Lor with it.
“I have no say in this, do I?” she says, a small smile pulling up one side of her mouth.
“Nope,” I reply, continuing to soak as much water from her skin as I can. “That’s probably the best you’re gonna get.”
As I straighten, Lor squeezes my shoulder where her hand was resting for balance. “Thanks, Ro.”
We’re flying downthe highway with me alternating between riding next to Lor and dropping back behind her as we return to Chicago. My body thrums with the memory of her in my arms, her slick skin against mine, the vision of her pleasure at my hands. I absently rub at my chest while my eyes remain locked on her. I’m admiring the strong lines of her body, her straight back and the angles of her arms and legs as I contemplate my next moves.
Things with Lor are looking up, much more than I could have anticipated. Of course, I always hoped she’d share more of herself with me, but I never expected her to be carrying so muchgenerational trauma. Perhaps I should give her my therapist’s information?
I shake my head, that’s probably pushing it. She’d ask if she wanted it, and it’s not my place, but I can’t help wanting the best for her.
And that brings up the topic of whatever mob boss she’s involved with. I have no doubt she’s working for him against her will, otherwise he wouldn’t threaten her so blatantly—and she wouldn’t be absolutely miserable day in and day out.
Now my body thrums for a different reason.
Vengeance lights up my veins, and I take a deep, slow breath to avoid lighting myself on fire while on my bike. But then I realize the flames aren’t hounding me like usual. It feels like they’re banked, but ready and waiting.
Like they know their time is coming.
20
SCRATCHING VULNERABILITY WITH HUMOR
September 7, 1993: The emptiness gapes. A hurt too deep to heal. Return to the stars. Dirt on my brow, ashes beneath my nails, stardust in the wrinkles of my skin. No rest for the weary. No peace for the wretched…
Lor
I leave for the club the next evening right when it opens. It’s been another long day of pointless research trying to find impact sites that I haven’t already scoured. It feels hopeless, and after the big boss man upped his threat level, the pressure is oppressive.
At least I get to see Ro today.
Or… maybe I shouldn’t. He’s relentlessly smiled his way under my skin, and started to convince me that maybe I can havesomegood things, even if they’re only temporary. But everyone leaves in the end, so is it worth it to put him in danger for my own short-term desires?
My head splinters with indecision, my steps faltering as I turn the corner toward Tempo. Before I can make up my mind, my feet do it for me while my hand pulls open the door.
Ro is bent over the bar, resting his elbows on it while his eyes stare off into space. I pause on the threshold, tilting my head to observe him. He looks more distant than usual, less joyful. My brows pinch with concern as I take in his strange mood.
I slide onto a stool and rest my cheek on my fist, fine with waiting until he comes back to himself. It gives me a few moments to take him in. The lines between his eyebrows and around the corners of his lips. The darker clothing than he usually goes for: navy pants with a tight, blood red t-shirt. Silver rings cover his fingers as usual, but he wears no other jewelry on his wrists or around his neck.
Perhaps most strange of all—his stillness. It’s bizarre, and none of my business, but I assume something must have him twisted up inside to be so out of it. I’ve never seen that on him before, but of course, we all have our demons.
I internally snort; some of us more literally than others.
Finally, Ro’s unfocused gaze turns my way. His eyes take me in, blink once, and then he jumps, a tiny ball of flame rising from his hand and fizzling out in the air.
“Lor!”
“Hey,” I say, my lips quirking up on one side. Has he always been this cute?
“Hi,” he says, flustered.
A grin finally stretches across his handsome face, and it settles a piece of me that I didn’t realize until now needed settling.
