Chapter 20 #2
When the song ends in whistles and applause, my breaths are heaving, and my body works to stay upright.
DK steadies me for a moment, his hands moving to my hips before they slowly leave me.
Feeling the absence of him, I turn and catch a glimpse.
He’s wearing a black Summer Festival cap, pulled low, obscuring his face, the white of his polo glows faintly in the night—slipping sideways through the crowd.
If anyone glanced our way, they’d see distance. Separation. Nothing to connect.
I stand there, dazed. Throbbing. My phone buzzes a minute later. Hands shaking, I open DK’s message.
DK: Still licking you off my fingers.
Heat floods me all over again. For a half second, I consider finishing what we started at my place. Then common sense wins.
I duck into the nearest restroom to clean up. The toilet paper sticks to my damp inner thighs, and a sputter of hysterical laughter bubbles out of me.
That was insane. Though my sated body wholeheartedly disagrees.
I’ve never done anything remotely like that in public.
I’d wanted to, but anytime I brought up one of my fantasies to Hollis, he made me feel like a nasty ho.
I later learned he was one of those men who wanted his girlfriend demure and his side pieces doing cartwheels on his dick.
DK didn’t hesitate. Didn’t question. Didn’t judge. He just showed up and delivered.
I wash my hands at the sink, and note my glassy-eyed reflection is of a woman who just got hers. In the middle of a crowd. And loved every minute of it.
The next morning, I’m wailing the lyrics to “Independently Owned” from Shucked when my phone rings. I pause it and answer.
Anika wastes no time on pleasantries. “You’re everywhere.”
“What?” I panic, nearly sloshing hot coffee down my top.
“That line was brilliant,” she raves. “‘It definitely needs an overhaul’ is getting major replay.”
“Oh.” A breath of relief rushes from me hard enough to turn my dark roast cold. For a second, I thought—
“Diablo’s camp hasn’t responded yet,” she continues. “But they will.”
“I’m sure,” I say, my breathing finally returning to normal. DK must be in catch-up mode, figuring out how to spin the line.
Sorry. Not sorry.
The only thing I felt bad about was leaving him high and dry at the concert. Though when we spoke last night, he assured me I had no reason to.
Your pleasure is my pleasure.
My heart gives a silly little twirl. That man knows exactly how to melt me. Even the way he says Loo-nah still makes me school-girl giddy.
We talked for an hour. Me snuggled under my blanket with his deep, warm voice in my ear. The topics were casual, nothing important—just sharing time and space until we see each other again.
He admitted that Neo knows about us. And I confessed that I’d told Lot.
Technically, it’s no longer a secret once more than two people know. But Neo and Lot are our vaults. Loyal to the bone.
We both know how important it is to stay invisible. So without the cover of any more crowds, I’ll have to behave myself until Grove Cove. The build-up will be worth it.
Five more sleeps. I’m counting them down with red Xs on my refrigerator calendar.
After Anika finishes running through today’s remarks, I end the call and get ready for the last day of the festival.
The morning goes so smoothly, I keep waiting for something to go wrong. Some disaster Cecil could lord over me. But nope. All good.
DK will be there for Diablo’s closing remarks at four, but he’s spending the day showing Neo around. His brother is always looking to scope out investment opportunities. There appears to be more to Neo than just F-boy swagger.
After lunch, I relieve Symone and make my rounds. A little girl—around eight or nine—standing in the ice cream line points at me and whispers, “Why’s her skin like that, Mommy?”
Her mother shushes her, mortified, and gives me an apologetic look. “That’s not polite, Keely.”
“It’s okay.” I crouch down to Keely’s height. “Hi,” I say. “I’m Rayne. Sounds like you’re curious about my skin?”
Her head bobs quickly up and down.
“It’s called vitiligo. You can’t catch it, and it doesn’t hurt.”
“How come you have it?”
“I don’t know,” I say with a small shrug. “It just means my body doesn’t make what it needs to keep my skin one color.”
“Do you get sad?”
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s just patches. Nothing that changes who I am or that stops me from doing anything I want. Like run for mayor.”
“I was hall monitor,” she announces proudly.
“Girl power.” I grin, holding up my hand for a high-five. She slaps it, giggling. “What kind of ice cream are you getting?”
“Cookies and cream.”
“Twins. That’s one of my favorites too. It was nice meeting you, Keely.”
“Okay.”
“That was so gracious of you,” her mom says with a palm to her chest.
“I don’t mind,” I tell her. Informing a child’s curiosity gives me a chance to dispel any fears about vitiligo. It’s the adults who hate and judge that I have no tolerance for.
“I think it’s wonderful you’re running for mayor,” she says. “We could use a fresh voice. A woman’s voice,” she adds. “Good luck.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your support.”
We exchange a few more words before I turn to leave, taking several steps before I come face to face with…
Hollis.