“No. Crap, I’m messing this up. Wherever you are with this, that’s totally cool. I guessed I was queer for a long time before I really let myself just . . . be queer. I just want to make sure that I understand what you’re saying.”
I nod. I’ve only ever said all of this to Luca. I tried telling Mom, and that was so wildly unsuccessful I never really tried again. But I haven’t shied away from talking about it because I’m confused.
I glance at Eva’s face—?her open, curious expression. Her amber-flecked eyes. Her gorgeous mouth, slightly parted and patiently waiting for me to go on. The little dip at her throat created by her sleek collarbones.
Nope. Definitely not confused. But with my confession, Eva and I are edging away from impossible, edging closer to possible. We’re shifting from a gay girl and a straight girl to two queer girls.
“It’s just a word, you know?” I say, meeting her gaze. “And sometimes words help; sometimes they don’t. But . . . well, I like who I like. I like the person.”
A little smile lifts her mouth.
“That makes a lot of sense. Cool.”
I wait for more—?another question, a scoff, even an untangling of our fingers—?but nothing comes. She stays still, stays quiet, presses her fingers into mine a little more.
Then her whole hand slides across my whole hand, and our fingers are all mixed up, pale and dark, lavender on dark purple, wrapped over and around. The tree creaks ominously, but I don’t care. I forget about everything that came before this—?every pissed-off and jealous emotion I had from earlier tonight, gone.
Sugar snores loudly right below us, but I don’t care about him, either.
I lean closer, needing her closer, needing me closer, and soon she’s right there, her mouth inches from mine. I stop, remembering she’s never kissed anyone before. She searches my face, and wonder is the only word for her expression. I close the tiny distance between us, just a bit, and let my lower lip brush hers. She sucks in a breath, so I stay there, letting her make the last move.
And she does. Her eyes flick down to my mouth once, then she presses her lips to mine. Soft and warm. I cup the back of her neck to pull her closer. Our tongues touch, gently at first, but then her thumb sweeps over my cheek, and I feel wild, like I need to devour her right here. She tastes like summer, like running and laughter, and the combination is so heady that I have to force myself to slow down and savor this moment. It’s a first for me, too.
She pulls away and I almost groan in protest, but I hold it in when she rests her forehead against mine.
“Did we just kiss in a tree?” she asks, a giggle edging her words.
“K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”
She cracks up at that and her lips find mine again, both of us laughing between the soft press of mouths.
“Ready to go?” she asks when we break apart.
“Absolutely not.”
“Me neither, but I think I’m one scoot away from getting a splinter in my ass.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that.”
She guides me down the tree, her feet as light as the cool breeze over my skin. When we hit the ground, Sugar stirs but doesn’t wake, grunting in a way that sounds exactly like a pig. We stifle giggles as we tiptoe around him. Then we run toward town, holding hands the entire way.
Chapter Sixteen
THE NEXT MORNING, I WAKE UP TO SHOUTING. I’m out of bed so fast, I don’t even think about the fact that I’m in nothing but a thin camisole and a pair of fraying sleep shorts. My door cracks against the plaster wall as I fling it open and run down the hall into the living room.
“—?can’t just take my money without asking, Maggie,” Pete is saying. He’s dusting something out of his hair and off his shoulders that looks like Fruity Pebbles. “That’s not how this works.”
“I thought we were in this together!” Mom yells.
They’re standing in the kitchen, a red box of cereal torn and empty on the counter, more colorful flakes scattered all over the floor. Mom’s dressed in nothing but one of Pete’s button-up shirts, dangling to her mid-thigh. At least, I think it’s Pete’s.
“Together doesn’t mean stealing,” he says.
Oh, shit.
“I did not steal,” Mom says. “I borrowed. For a good cause.”
“Always a cause with you. You need things for your jewelry business, fine. Ask me. I told you I’d help out, but don’t dig through my wallet when I’m sleeping. I won’t have that.”
Mom pops her hands on her hips. “You won’t have that? What is this? Nineteen fifty-five?”
“What happened?” I ask when they both take a breath.
Mom inhales sharply and whirls around to face me. Her affronted expression dips a bit, but she presses her lips flat and barrels on. “Nothing, baby. Pete’s having a hard time adjusting to a woman in the house, that’s all.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Maggie,” he says. He gestures toward the mess of cereal. “Is this what it means to have a woman in the house? Cereal dumped on my head for asking you about my own damn money?”
Dread fills my stomach. “Mom, did you—?”
“I borrowed it, Gracie. I needed more copper for Eva’s necklace. I messed up the first one, and she needs—?”
“Then. Ask. Me!” Pete booms, his face and thick neck red as a beet. I immediately move toward Mom, wrapping my hand around her arm and pulling her closer to me.
“What the hell?” Jay comes around the corner, rubbing his bed-head hair and blinking heavily. “It’s seven a.m.”
“It’s eight thirty, genius,” I say. My entire body feels caught in a vise.
“Whatever. Too early. What’s wrong?”
“We’re fine,” Mom says, but her voice shakes. “Just a simple misunderstanding.”
I keep my hand on her arm, both of us as tense as spooked cats. Pete shifts his gaze between the two of us for a few seconds before he closes his eyes, releasing a huge sigh. When he speaks, his voice is calm and even. “Grace, can you and Julian excuse us for a minute?”
“No, I cannot,” I say.
“It’s okay, baby,” Mom says. “Pete and I need to talk.”
“So talk. I’ll stay right here.” Pete is huge and was all crimson-faced and pissed-off two seconds ago. And yeah, okay, it sounds like Mom stole his money and he has every right to be mad about that, but there’s no way in hell I’m leaving her alone with him.
“Come on, Grace,” Jay says, taking my hand and pulling.
I jerk back. “Get your hands off me.”
“Gracie, go,” Mom says.
“No way in hell.”
“Margaret Grace.” She turns toward me, prying my fingers off her arm. “You watch your mouth and get your little butt back in your room. This is between Pete and myself, and I do not need you here. I can handle this.”
I blink at her, speechless. She’s never said that to me before—?that she didn’t need me. I’m so shocked, I don’t even fight Jay guiding me away and down the hall.
In my room, I sink down onto the bed, but my senses are still on high alert. I listen for more yelling or shattering of thrown objects, but there’s only a low murmur. Jay hovers in the doorway.
“He won’t hit her,” he says.