So much for Laine’s ideas of courtship. I wantcontact,release, to excise her from my brain so I can finally think again. Sure, Laine talked a big game, but she was barely able to resist me last night. I just need to drag her off her high horse and into the mud with me, and maybe that’ll shake this ridiculous notion of courtship out of her head. She’s leaving as soon as Dad comes back, she said so herself! What’s the pointin dating when she knows it’s going to end? I can’t even pretend to understand what her motives are, but the sexual tension’s been building for months now—any more and I’ll go insane. It’s a liability, a distraction. It cannot be borne a moment longer. I’ve got to crumble her resolve so we can fuck and this meaningless fling can run its course, like they always do.
I root through my bathroom drawers until I find it—a palette of face paint left over from last year’s family picnic. An evil grin blooms on my face.
It’s on, Laine Woods.
Twenty minutes later, I pull into a spot at the nearly empty rec center lot and throw my truck in park. I check my lipstick in the mirror, then the sparkly #27 glitter-painted on my cheek. Satisfied, I grab my bag and head off for the girls’ middle school soccer practice.
Laine’s out on the field, too busy running drills with the gangly tweens to notice me saunter up and lean over the fence. Once she started coaching Darla and Benny’s team, word got out that the prodigal daughter of the Gilmer County Bobcats had returned. It was a matter of days before the middle school reached out to Laine and asked her to fill in while Coach Wilkinson’s out on paternity leave.
“That’s it, Desiree!” Laine claps. “Excellent pass!”
A lanky girl sporting long rainbow socks covering her shin guards beams at Laine from midfield, and something hot and fiery explodes inside my chest. It didn’t occur to me until now, but these girls haveLaineas their adult mentor—ambitious, talented, capable,queerLaine. I would’ve done anything to have a mentor like her growing up. Someone to show me that effort makes you stronger, that there’s power in being true to yourself, even if others aren’t ready to accept you that way.
But then again, I did, didn’t I? Because I had Laine, too.
My eyes mist up,goddamnemotions, and I frantically try to wipe the tears away before they ruin my face paint. Of course, Laine takes thismoment to glance over her shoulder and see me at the fence, swiping at my eyes.
Dammit, this isnottheyou-teased-the-wrong-bitchenergy I came here to display!
A smile breaks out on Laine’s face as she adjusts her glasses, making sure that yes, it’s reallymestanding here, painted up like her biggest fan. She waves, then holds up a finger.
“Take five, team!” she shouts, then breaks into a brisk jog around the far corner of the field before circling back to where I’m standing. In her hand is a small bunch of wild-grown goldenrod and dandelions, and my heart trembles within its cage.
“Milady.” She grins and proffers the makeshift bouquet to me over the fence. I take the flowers, willing myself to quit being so goddamncharmed.
“Do I have any say in this,” I murmur, more to the flowers than to the gorgeous butch soccer coach who gave them to me. “This whole courting thing?”
“Hmm.” Laine tilts her head. She’s wearing a blue baseball hat I recognize as Chance’s. My heart pinches with affection. “Not really, no.”
I step closer to where she’s leaning on the fence, smiling slyly behind my flowers. “Then I guess I’ll have to make this hard on you, huh.”
“After last night?” Laine whistles. “I’d like that very much.” Her brown eyes smolder, and I feel every inch of my body as her gaze brushes over me like fingertips. If there was any doubt she saw my act of revenge in the window, it’s gone now. A small, pleased huff escapes me. I like surprising Laine—displacing her expectations gives me a rich, satisfying feeling ofwinning. What’s more, I enjoyed surprising myself. Last night, I followed my instincts, giving myself permission to explore what I wanted.
And it washot.
I step even closer, until we’re in kissing distance.
“You’re gonna rue the day you decided to courtme, Laine Woods.” My voice is low and dangerously flirtatious, but Laine just smiles and reaches out a hand to gently cup my painted cheek.
“No,” she says simply. “But I rue all the days I didn’t.”
I’ve been standing in our parking lot for a hundred years. At least that’s what it feels like as the old-timer in the pale yellow button-down consults his clipboardagain. Though his sleeves are short, Mr. Tommy Sumney of the Gilmer County Licensing and Inspection Department still wears a brown tie covered in tiny, jumping trout. Mr. Sumney does not foregoprofessional attire, even on a blazing early-August afternoon. I learned this the hard way as he viewed my black tank top with disdain when he first arrived for our appointment. It’s been downhill ever since.
“You sure I can’t offer you a glass of water, Mr. Sumney?” I fan myself with my hand. “It’s a million degrees out today, and I’m afraid I’ve had you traipsing all over creation.” Sometimes it helps switching to ultra southern mode with the older folks.
“No, ma’am.” Mr. Sumney looks up over the rim of his wire-framed spectacles. “I do not fraternize with supplicants.”
I squint at him. “Do you mean … applicants, sir?”
“No, ma’am.”
I raise my eyebrows. O-kay.
“Is there any other paperwork you need, sir? I’ve prepared a binder with supplemental materials for your convenience if that would be helpful. Estimated power and water usage, for example, restroom trailer rentals and their locations, updated certificates of insurance—”
“Did you fill out the form?” he drawls, still looking at me over his glasses.
“Yes, sir … that’s how I got this appointment.”
