The Law of Moses

“Screw you, Moses.”

 

“That’s the first thing you’ve said that appeals to me.”

 

I gasped and he laughed. Again. I knew he was just trying to irritate me and make me run away crying. But I wasn’t the crying kind. He was right about one thing. I got kicked and thrown, and I came back for more.

 

So I did something I had never done. I turned and walked back to him, took his face between my hands, and I kissed him hard. It was probably the worst kiss ever delivered in the history of angry kisses. It was a terrible kiss. I had never kissed anyone before, and my lips were pressed into a hard, little line, my eyes squeezed shut, my hands gripping his face like they’d gripped Lucky’s mane.

 

He pulled away, but not far, and his breath was harsh across my mouth. “Careful, Georgia. You’re about to get thrown.”

 

“You son of a—”

 

And then his lips were back, swallowing my angry words, and I forgot almost immediately what a jerk he was. He wasn’t impatient or pushy or rough—not like I had been. He took his time and he showed me how to take mine. One hand held my head, cradling it, while the other found the curve of my waist and curled around my belt. And when I tried to take charge he bit down on my lip.

 

“Stop it,” he hissed. “Let me lead.”

 

So I did.

 

And he led me round and round, up and down, until my legs turned to jelly and my eyes rolled back in my head, until I was leaning against him because I was too turned on to stand.

 

And when he lifted his head and laughed, just a soft little chuckle, I struggled to open my heavy eyelids and drift back down to earth.

 

“Well, whaddaya know?”

 

I shook out the fog and turned my head, finding the spot where Moses’s eyes were trained.

 

Lucky was sauntering across the field like he hadn’t just freaked out and taken me for the ride of my life.

 

“See? The moment you quit chasing him, that’s when he wants you. He looks jealous. He thinks he’s been replaced.”

 

Our eyes clashed and I peeled myself off him, trying to play like I’d been kissed a hundred times by a hundred different boys.

 

Moses’s eyes drifted down to my mouth, and I shoved my hands into my pockets so I wouldn’t be tempted to reach for him again and prove that I could lead as well as he could.

 

As if he read my mind, Moses nodded toward the horse.

 

“Go on. You’ve learned your lesson. He doesn’t want to be ridden.”

 

I flipped around, immediately cured from any desire to kiss him again. I gritted my teeth as I walked back to my horse, my stride long, my hands clenched.

 

Lucky watched me come. He didn’t shy away or flinch as I drew near, and without allowing myself to hesitate, I grabbed his mane and swung myself immediately back up onto his bare back. He reared up once, spun a little, dancing and prancing, but I was ready for him and I held on.

 

And he gave in.

 

As I urged him back toward home, I couldn’t help looking back. Moses stood frozen to the spot, a look of absolute amazement on his face. And it was my turn to laugh.

 

 

 

 

 

Moses

 

 

 

 

I SLEPT ON THE SECOND FLOOR, across the hall from Gi. The old house had no air conditioning, and by the end of the day, the upper rooms were stifling. Gi never seemed to mind, she was always cold, but each night I would open my window, soak my T-shirt with water before putting it on, and then turn the little oscillating fan in the corner on full blast so it blew directly on me, just so I could sleep without drowning in a pool of my own sweat.

 

Utah had experienced record-breaking temperatures all summer, but the first week of August was unbearable. For the fourth night in a row, I was laying in my bed at midnight, so miserable I considered taking another shower just to cool down, when I heard someone say my name.

 

I sat up in bed, listening.

 

“Moses!”

 

I turned off my fan and waited.

 

“Moses!”

 

I ran to the window and looked down to see Georgia in shorts and a tank top, a towel wrapped around her neck and a big, striped pool bag on her shoulder, standing below my window.

 

She waved merrily, as if her being there in beach wear made total sense.

 

“I was going to sneak into your house and up the stairs to your room, but I thought maybe you slept naked and I might embarrass you.”

 

I stared down at her, dumbfounded. She didn’t try to whisper or disguise her voice in any way. I looked toward Gi’s room. The hallway between our rooms was dark and there was no light beneath her door. Still, I put my finger over my lips and shook my head. I had no idea how she even knew which room was mine.

 

“I’m going to the water tower. Come with me. It’s too damn hot to sleep,” she said, not softening her voice at all.

 

“Quiet!” I hissed down at her. Georgia just smiled and shook her head.

 

“The sooner you get down here in some shorts with the keys to your Jeep, the sooner we can go, and the sooner I’ll shut up. We can’t take Myrtle. She’d wake the neighborhood.”

 

A laugh escaped my nose in an unattractive snort, and Georgia smirked, obviously well aware that if anyone was in danger of waking the neighborhood, or at least my grandma, it was her.

 

“What the hell. It is too hot to sleep,” I sighed, and her smile widened considerably.

 

“Meet you out front,” she whispered. Oh, now she was being quiet. Now that she got her way.

 

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