Page 16 of Jaded

Nat

Likeaburn,helingers.

My fingers wander across the strings of my guitar like drunken, meandering butterflies, my legs cast atop the coffee table in my sun-soaked living room, but I don’t hear the music because I’m back in last night, with . . . him.

The boy from the bar. The one I shouldn’t have noticed, because I don’t often notice boys. But I noticed him. The way he leaned over the bar to engage Anita, the way she beamed back. The way his soft laugh pulled at something inside me—caused me to look over.

Then, I couldn’t help but note the long, lean flow of his athletic frame, his skin like the glowing sepia space right before night clutches the day in darkness. His smile, a curve of pale crescent moon.

When he turned to me, those eyes . . . Those eyes were earth and stars melded together into soft, molten pools of life.

And like a wayward comet, I was pulled into his orbit.

Now?

Now, he lingers like a burn.

“All right.” Charlie Holland swivels his head from his half-melted position on the armchair. I forbade Charlie from smoking in the house where my daughter lives, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get good and baked before he gets here. “Talk.”

Myfingers pause on the strings of the guitar, letting the music fade. “The hell does that mean?”

“Something’s up with you.”

I groan. “I hate how well you know me.”

“Well, I know it ain’t about Juliet, ’cause I don’t think you liked her even when you were fucking—”

“Well, I wasn’t thinking about her, but now I am, so thank you—”

“Dude.” Charlie rolls his head back to stare at the ceiling, mussing his long blond curls. “You barely ever thought about her.”

The next words tumble out without my permission. “I kissed a guy last night. And I liked it.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Charlie jerks upright and turns to face me, eyes so wide, white shows in a ring around the soft brown. “Okay, wait. Back up for me, Katy Perry. What?”

I scrape a hand over my face to avoid having to look at him. “It wasn’t anything, okay? I didn’t even get his name.” But I did get his number. “It was a kiss, it was kinda hot. That’s all.”

“You sure?” Charlie cocks his head, expression turning shrewd. “You think it’s ’cause this whole part-time Zamboni shit is stressing you?”

I exhale in a long, heavy sigh. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Honestly . . .” Charlie straightens his head towards the ceiling. “Maybe it’s a sign, you know?”

First Jerry, then Brenda, now Charlie? I grit my teeth. “Et tu, Brute?”

“I’m serious, man. JB keeps botheringmeto bother you.”

“I’ve worked at the rink for seventeen years.” My voice comes out harsher than I intended. Seventeen years—since I was a stupid, young parent, fresh out of high school. “I’m not leaving.”

“Dude. I might not have an MBA or anything, but I know there’s no way you launch a successful business going at it half-assed and part time.” Charlie side-eyes me, and I pretend like I don’t notice.

“Jesus. You sound like Brenda.”

Even though, goddammit, they’re both right. I ain’t paying for my kid’s college on a part-time Zamboni salary.

It’s why I started repoing cars for JB in the first place.

Charlie shrugs, his shirt scraping against the leather. “Maybe you could get more work from Coach?”

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