Page 30 of Let the Light Shine Through

Sweat pools between my hand and the steering wheel, making my grip slippery, and I have to flex my fingers, shaking them out.

Why is she even pushing this again? She of all people knows I don’t need the money. I didn’t have to move in with three other guys; I chose to. The earnings I made from competing were always split up and invested—wisely—so that it would last even longer because I never wanted to depend on my family’s fortune. Living off snowboarding forever was the ultimate goal, but not realistic in any way. The average age for snowboarders to retire is around twenty-two, which I just turned…last week? Has it been a week already?

Anyway, I shot for a long career but planned for a short one. Not this short, but still, I’m doing fucking fine for money, so there’s no valid reason for me to return to snowboarding as far as I’m concerned.

Other than needing the snow like fish need water.

But no.

I don’t. Not anymore.

I need something else. Something to keep me occupied, so I’m not imagining shapes out of water stains on the ceiling for multiple days in a row. Fun. I need fun that isn’t tied to my dead best friend. I need distractions. Lots of them. I need…her.

Wait. Is that her?

Spotting an obvious female form in obvious male clothing has me doing a double take.

Maybe.

Maybe’s good enough for me.

“I gotta go,” I rush out to my mom, promising to call her again soon. I can’t do a dinner with my parents yet; I need to work up to that, but I think I can manage a call.

With a hard swerve that may or may not be illegal, I pull over to the side of a small park, parking half on the sidewalk, half on the tiny shoulder. It’s not exactly what I’d call a park, more like a long stretch of grass between two busy roads, and instead of a parking lot, it has a plaque. A plaque I ignore as I approach the only picnic table here. It’s directly under a tree, and the woman—that might not even be Gia now that I think about it—stretched out on top of the metal has her arms resting above her head like she’s working on her tan, except she’s fully dressed. Overdressed to be exact. It’s nearing ninety degrees out and she’s in baggy jeans and a long-sleeve shirt…but in the shade?

Yeah, this has Gia written all over it.

I lick my lips, propping my shoulder against the tree to cross one foot over the other while taking her in.

Damn, it’s been a while.

I knew she was supposed to graduate sometime this month, so in a moment of weakness, before Stain-gate set in, I drove by her dad’s pizza shop. The reader board out front confirmed Gia had graduated, and I considered going inside. To congratulate her. To see her.

I chickened out though. Instead, I went home and tore every piece of the old me off my wall. The me that I could look in the mirror on any given day and recognize instantly. The me that knew what he wanted and went the fuck after it. The me that was fearless.

But standing over Gia now, unannounced, and watching her body contract with unhurried breaths doesn’t make me feel brave. It makes me feel like a fucking creep actually.

What the fuck was I thinking?

“Got my underwear?” she asks out of nowhere, making my eyes snap to where Gia’s gray shirt’s riding up, revealing a thick waistband of what look like boxer briefs just above her jeans.

Fuck me, she’s wearing men’s underwear again. I thought the pair in Fletcher’s nightstand might’ve been a fluke, like maybe it was laundry day for her, but I’m glad they’re not. They’re hot on her. So fucking hot.

My question now is, did she take them from somebody like she stole my clothes? Because I actually like the idea that they might be hers. Like really like it. But the other option? That they could belong to some other dude? Not so much.

Not at all.

“Got my clothes?” I challenge back, not caring what answer she gives as long as she gives one.

Gia tips her aviator glasses down her nose, pinning me with those dark brown eyes of hers. “Not on me.”

Fuuuck.

I give her a smirk, telling her, “I could change that.” I could change that so fucking fast.

She pushes her glasses back into place to face the sky again.

“Come back to my house and I’ll get you your clothes,” I say.