Chapter Thirty #2
“Jeez. Sorry about that.” Cash shakes his head and takes a swig of his drink. I try to shake off the uncomfortable thought of being watched on video by people I don’t even know. “We never ate dinner,” I say. “How about we get some food?”
Cash follows me to where we laid out food for Emery’s birthday – not including the cherry-chocolate ice-cream cake I made. I planned on that for later, so it’s still in the freezer.
“What was that about back there?” I ask. “Why did that jerk call you ‘pemmican boy’? Isn’t that a mixture of berries and meat?”
“Yeah, nomadic indigenous people ate it when they were travelling.” Cash turns, not meeting my eyes. “He’s drunk. It’s a stupid nickname he gave me a long time ago.”
“It is a stupid nickname. Cash, he shouldn’t call you that.”
“I know. He can be an idiot. But I’ve known him for ever, and he doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“Uh, OK,” I say, trying to catch his gaze, and I hand him a paper plate. “That’s no excuse. He called you a super inappropriate name and objectified me.”
“No, you’re right. It’s not OK.” He looks off towards the party. “Most of the rodeo guys are the typical cowboy type. They’re real nice at first, charming and all, but…”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know… A lot of them get off on their need to tame the wild – animals, nature and women, of course. The old ‘love ’em and leave ’em’ thing … it’s real. So, with that attitude, it’s not like he’s going to care about whether or not a nickname offends me.”
“What about Hank?”
“Hank gets even more shit than I do. He likes rodeoing, though, so he puts up with their bullshit. He’s also part of the Gay Rodeo Association.”
“What else happens to you?”
“With me, it’s like you just saw. Since my dad’s skin is on the lighter side, whenever I’m with him, people treat me like I’m white.
I’m just light enough they don’t really know what to think of me.
But it’s a whole different story when I’m with my mom.
Sometimes even the same person will treat me differently when I’m with her. ”
“No one should treat you that way,” I say. I think back to what Earl said in his letter about Daisy working with a foreigner, and wish we’d come along further in over a hundred years.
After we eat, the sky turns black and the stars make their appearance for the night. I play a few rounds of cornhole as Cash’s partner against Hank and Joseph. Then Emery’s friend Miguel pulls out a guitar. He plays and sings, and the mood changes from party mode to fireside sitting.
People pull up chairs and blankets, and we all stare into the mesmerizing glow of the flames.
Across the fire, I see Kaylee wrap her buffalo plaid blanket over her shoulders as she takes off with a guy.
To my side, a group of guys start chugging beers and wrestling, ruining the cosy mood.
Cash feels me tense under the blanket and, without me even saying anything, he gets up to talk to them.
I stare at Cash gratefully as he sits, relaxed, with a permanent smile on his face. His black whiskers, black hat and black hoody make him ruggedly hot. Under the soft fleece blanket, I pull at his hand, coaxing him to get up with me.
He cocks his head, but when I raise my eyebrows playfully he understands. He wraps us both in the blanket and we walk towards the orchard. His hand on the small of my back brings a memory to the surface. It was after I’d been stung. He held me like no one ever has.
“How about here?” I ask as we get to the edge of the orchard.
I slide a cold hand under the bottom of his hoodie. His abs are hard and tight, his skin smooth and warm. He runs his hand behind my head and kisses me like it’s the first time. His kisses get deeper, more intense, with each moment that passes.
I pull him down to the ground and he hovers over me on his forearms. His chest presses against my mine. His hand slips under the bottom of my shirt, across my stomach, grazing my tender skin. I tremble from the cold and Cash moves us to one side of the blanket, pulling the other side over us.
“Mi flor, will you be my girlfriend?” he asks, his eyes reflecting the light of the moon.
“Cash,” I say, holding his face firmly between my hands, beaming but shocked all the same. “What did you just say?”
“Will you be my girlfriend?”
“No, no. The other thing – mi flor.”
“Oh.” His hand finds mine, and he looks bashful. “I won’t call you that if you don’t like it.”
I soften my grip on his cheeks. “I love it. Remember? It’s what Joaquin used to call Daisy.”
“I forgot that.” He places kisses on my skin like petals. “It must be a good nickname, then, transcending time and all.”
I regard him for only a moment before saying, “I’d love to be your girlfriend.”
His hand trickles down my leg, tickling the tender part above my knee. He gazes down at me hungrily before fully parting his lips and kissing me like he’s waited a lifetime to do so.
I’m hungry for him too, growing feral for his touch. I kiss him back and my skin shivers delightfully. I push my hand through his hair and my chest throbs so intensely my heart may shatter. The sparks we felt before have become explosions, setting every nerve ablaze.
“How is it you taste so good?” he asks, his eyes wandering over my body. “It’s like all the honey you eat seeps through your pores.”
Then a loud crackling sound makes us both jump.
A sharp prick of fear races up my neck. Every hair on my body stands on end and electricity courses through my veins.
And then we hear screaming from the bonfire.