Page 93 of Let the Light Shine Through

Of course, even if she went for him on her own, I would’ve had to do the same thing I’m doing now—nothing.

I’d have to watch her steal my ice cowboy right out from under me.

My ice cowboy.

“I’ll start,” Roz says, that deep voice of his setting off underwater shockwaves.

As soon as Kori started talking, I tuned her out, so I have no idea what the rules are but, apparently, we’re all playing, including Roz.

“My first job was at the mall serving lemonade, I have eight gold medals, and the last thing I said to my best friend before he died was ‘you go first.’” Roz’s gaze drops to his lap.

“Damn, that was deep. How are we supposed to guess after that?”

I lick the inside of my cheek. Lemonade? Really?

“The mall’s a lie.” I know the medals are true, I practically memorized his record. The one about Salvy sounds like something that might’ve happened, even though I hope it didn’t. It’d explain why Roz feels so gawd-damn guilty all the time.

Roz brings his head up slowly, saying, “She’s right.”

The vibe changes suddenly, becoming much more charged, and I glance around, asking, “What does that mean? Is it my turn?”

“Not yet. He gets to choose who you kiss first.”

My pulse picks up speed as I sit up, making waves that go over the edge of the hot tub walls. Why did I open my mouth?

I open it again to try and backpedal, but am cut off by Roz saying a name I didn’t expect but totally should’ve.

“Kori.”

Touché, Roswell. Touché.

Kori looks like she just chugged the lemonade Roz never served as she quirks her perfect eyebrow at me, a hundred questions written on her face.

It’s a little late for that, Kori. She should’ve questioned me hours ago, when I first gave her the assignment she’s currently failing. Roz hasn’t forgotten anything, not even me. Especially not me.

Forced to stand since Kori’s a giant and not fully submerged yet, I grab a handful of hair at the back of her head to bring her face within inches of mine. I hold the position, waiting for her permission, since I know she doesn’t like me, but then she clenches my waist, pulling me to her so hard, we almost head-butt each other, and I have to knock her chin with mine just to create a little more space. She closes it in an instant though, darting her tongue straight into my mouth with both the enthusiasm and expertise of a Saint Bernard puppy.

Two loud groans sound off behind me with absolute silence from Roz next to us. Silence so cold and thick it burns like dry ice.

All at once, I release Kori’s hair and lips, returning to my seat in a daze.

The girl is fired up, that much is obvious. Like bad. If they really are on round two, three, or four, you’d think Kori would be a little more…chill. But she’s not. I’m lucky she didn’t rub against me like a bear trying to scratch a day-old itch on a tree. Day old…or hours old. What were they doing in that room?

Am I out $15.69 or not?

“Your turn,” somebody says, and with my eyes on the surface’s bubbles, I say, “I’ve never ridden a horse, I took apart my first quad by myself to sell the parts, and for the last three years, I’ve woken up early every morning to listen to my dad cry when he thinks no one can hear him.” Excluding the mornings I spent with Roz, that is.

This is why I suck at real games. I follow no one’s rules but my own, and even those I’m having a hard time with lately.

“I can be your first horse ride,” one of the fuckboys offers, but before I can take him up on it, Roz’s jagged voice slices through the double entendre with, “Your first quad is currently a loaner at the racetrack you teach at.”

“Is he right?”

A shoulder bumps me and I nod absently.

“Okay, pick a name. And remember, you can choose yourself.” Another bump to my shoulder, this one from my other side.

I feel like I’m on a roller coaster down on Coney Island during summer break. It’s too hot, too humid, too bumpy, and there’s trash everywhere I look. I want off but…