Page 39 of Let the Light Shine Through

“You only get six more kisses.”

I take the following silence as Roz thinking of an argument and open my eyes to watch it play out. According to our little bet, he earned a total of eight kisses—anywhere he wants. Before this one, it was that kiss after Mitch checked my ass like a fucking lacrosse defender. The blood was a bit dramatic, even for me, but whatever. Roz rolled with it easily enough, which was more shocking than the fact that Mitch actually got one over on me. I’d heard his ass shadowing me, just like every other time I’ve skated there, but I didn’t expect him to take things to a physical level like he did. Such a dick move.

Featherlight kisses trace a path up my neck as I fight a smug smile. I stand corrected, he didn’t have an argument after all. He was just plotting.

That was almost too easy.

When his lips find mine, instead of another kiss, he breathes, “Five.”

“That was at least fourteen kisses right there.”

Clear golden eyes stare back at me as he repeats, “Five,” against my lips.

“I don’t—” I don’t get to finish because Roz’s lips crash against mine, cutting off my argument. In the next breath, I’m lifted off the chair and held to his front while my legs fold around his hips.

Spinning us around, he sits back down with me straddling his lap. Not once does he break the kiss and not once do I think about the count. That’s the thing about Roz, he’s tricky as hell. He weaves his way in without me even realizing it, then boom, we’re both shirtless and making out before the main course is even served.

At least this kind of date is more my speed. Maybe by dessert I’ll be over all of…this.

My hands tangle in his semi-wavy hair, using the leverage to move his head for a better angle. I brush my tongue past his lips and am rewarded with a groan so deep I feel it in my toes. His top lip is bitten between my teeth, then sucked on as his hands grip my ass tighter. My baggy jeans aren’t working in either of our favors as we press together, trying to get as close to the other as possible, and I’m about to stand up and lose them when a shot of pain radiates through my chest.

“Fuck,” I grit as I tear my mouth away, placing my forehead on his.

“I’m sorry.”

The way he says it, it’s clear this is one of those all-encompassing apologies.

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything.”

Roz shakes his head and I pull back to stare at him.

“That’s just it, I didn’t do anything. I knew that guy was up to something and I didn’t fucking stop him.”

On an eye roll, I stand from his lap to gather plates and napkins.

“I didn’t need you to do anything.”

I can and did handle myself. Mitch is not the first guy to talk shit to me about my lifestyle and he won’t be the last. Some men cannot fathom why I’d want to be like them but not be them. I dress like I have a dick, but I don’t want one, and to someone who’s already convinced their gender is superior, that’s incomprehensible. Mitch’s dick is probably shorter than his balls when he’s soft, yet he still believes it rules the world, and anyone without the same anatomy should bow the fuck down. He’s pathetic.

Roz tracks me across the small space, his breath pouring out of him as he crowds my back.

I’m still in my sports bra and jeans, which is basically what he’s in—minus the bra, of course—and I know I’ll have to erase the security footage before we leave. I don’t need Dad asking questions about Roz, questions that’ll make me think about him even more.

Maybe Roz and I can be friends. Friends that kiss a few times before deciding friendship is where it’s at.

“When I was seventeen, Salvy invited this guy he’d met the day before to go snowboarding with us. As soon as we got off the lift, he started taking digs at me, like he knew me, you know? We’d just met him and I still wasn’t that big yet, so I shook it off. Some guys just like to talk more shit than others. About halfway through the day though, he dared me to do a Misty Flip. I fucking took it, thinking it’d shut him up, but he wanted me to do it off his inverted snowboard while it was still strapped to his feet. So instead of a jump, he’d essentially be on his back and boost me into the air himself, using his board. It all happened so fast that nobody got a good look at what happened. Nobody…but me. At the last second, right before I slid off his board, I looked down and saw his face. It was full of spite and anger, which isn’t that uncommon in competition, but that wasn’t what we’d been doing that day. We were just fucking around, not competing. That’s what Salvy and I took it as, but this guy, he took it somewhere completely different.”

A shiver that has nothing to do with being shirtless racks my body.

“The front of his board went lax while he kicked the back end with everything he had and that force mixed with that day’s howling-ass tailwind, I biffed it going so fast, the landing compressed one of my vertebrae, resulting in a compound fracture between my ribs.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. It took me out for months. I had to get surgery and do physical therapy, everything. To this day, it was the worst injury of my entire career.”

“Was he one of your competitors?”

“We found out after the fact.” He nods, his nose nudging my hair. “I saw that same look on Mitch’s face, and I wish I would’ve done something about it sooner. I could’ve protected you.”