a monster crush on him already. “…if you’re into surfers.”
Cal smirked. “I’ll see if I can upgrade by the end of the summer.” He finished off the wine cooler with his eyes on her.
Gar came around the edge of the laundry. “Hey.”
Aly startled. “Mother of God!” She spun around on her seat to face Gar. “You scared me!”
He looked at Aly, blinked once. “You ready?”
Aly slid off the porch. “Later, you guys.” She walked into the shadows with Gar.
Raine shifted uncomfortably on the rough bo ards of the porch. She looked at Cal, at the play of the moonlight on the waxy croton leaves, back at Cal. “Aly asked me to stop by—”
“Don’t stress, Raine . I’m not dangerous.”
That’s what he thought . “Tell me about the book you’re reading.” That should be a safe subject. The wind intensified, and she tucked her hands into her jacket pockets.
“The guy is a preacher’s kid—”
“I see the connection—”
“A thinking man. He explores Zen Buddhism, Native American religions, and—of course—basketball. He colors outside the lines.”
“Like you.”
“I don’t get how you believe without checking out the options.”
“I know God’s real. I talk to Him, and He answers me.” How did you explain God, especially to someone who’d seen it all and was still shopping?
“One of my buds hears God talking to him, too, but not till the bottom of a jug of Southern Comfort.”
“I don’t mean I hear His voice audibly. It’s more of an impression.”
“Anyway, if Christianity is the option—it will stand up to scrutiny. Or it won’t. Is that what you’re afraid of?”
Raine looked at him evenly. “It’s true.”
“Whatever.”
Wind gusted across the porch, and the sky opened up , spitting mist against Raine’s face. She scooted against the building and pulled her knees in tight to her chest. She shivered.
With the rain sheeting against the porch roof, she didn’t realize Cal had slid over next to her till she felt the weight of his arm drop across her shoulders. She went still, almost afraid to breathe as the warmth of Cal’s body crawled through their clothing to her skin.
It wasn’t like she’d never been this close to a guy. She’d had a boyfriend. But this was different. Jud wasn’t looking for a religion that would let him be his own boss.
“You smell good,” Cal said somewhere near her ear.
She felt the rumble of his voice in his chest. “Aly’s shampoo,” she blurted.
The rain hammered the porch’s tarpaper roof, the sandy dirt, a two-foot swath of the weathered boards. She watched the water bounce crazily off the slick planks , memorizing the firmness of Cal’s chest against her arm, the feel of his fingers gripping her shoulder. For this moment, it was okay to be this close to Cal.
“Sitting here with you in the rain makes me think of something Douglas Coupland said in Shampoo Planet. ”
Raine turned her face toward him.
“He said we tempt fate by accidentally feeling too happy one day.”
“Like if you’re completely happy, something’s bound to go wrong?”
“Right.”
She couldn’t see his eyes in the cloud-obscured moonlight. “You’re happy?”
“Yeah, yeah I am.” His serious tone told her he was no longer toying with her. His fingers tightened on her shoulder. He leaned toward her, their lips inches apart.
Raine didn’t breathe. She was caught in now, a willing prisoner. Her eyes found Cal’s jaw — dark with a day’s worth of stubble — his eyes , darker still.
Part of her heard the rain pull out as quickly as it had come , retreating across the athletic field behind them.
Cal leaned his head back against the slats of the building, his arm going slack around her. “Something will go wrong like the rain will stop.”
The air emptied out of her lungs, and she breathed in reason. Maybe God’s stopping the rain was something going right . She eased away from Cal. Goose bumps along the path where
Cal smirked. “I’ll see if I can upgrade by the end of the summer.” He finished off the wine cooler with his eyes on her.
Gar came around the edge of the laundry. “Hey.”
Aly startled. “Mother of God!” She spun around on her seat to face Gar. “You scared me!”
He looked at Aly, blinked once. “You ready?”
Aly slid off the porch. “Later, you guys.” She walked into the shadows with Gar.
Raine shifted uncomfortably on the rough bo ards of the porch. She looked at Cal, at the play of the moonlight on the waxy croton leaves, back at Cal. “Aly asked me to stop by—”
“Don’t stress, Raine . I’m not dangerous.”
That’s what he thought . “Tell me about the book you’re reading.” That should be a safe subject. The wind intensified, and she tucked her hands into her jacket pockets.
“The guy is a preacher’s kid—”
“I see the connection—”
“A thinking man. He explores Zen Buddhism, Native American religions, and—of course—basketball. He colors outside the lines.”
“Like you.”
“I don’t get how you believe without checking out the options.”
“I know God’s real. I talk to Him, and He answers me.” How did you explain God, especially to someone who’d seen it all and was still shopping?
“One of my buds hears God talking to him, too, but not till the bottom of a jug of Southern Comfort.”
“I don’t mean I hear His voice audibly. It’s more of an impression.”
“Anyway, if Christianity is the option—it will stand up to scrutiny. Or it won’t. Is that what you’re afraid of?”
Raine looked at him evenly. “It’s true.”
“Whatever.”
Wind gusted across the porch, and the sky opened up , spitting mist against Raine’s face. She scooted against the building and pulled her knees in tight to her chest. She shivered.
With the rain sheeting against the porch roof, she didn’t realize Cal had slid over next to her till she felt the weight of his arm drop across her shoulders. She went still, almost afraid to breathe as the warmth of Cal’s body crawled through their clothing to her skin.
It wasn’t like she’d never been this close to a guy. She’d had a boyfriend. But this was different. Jud wasn’t looking for a religion that would let him be his own boss.
“You smell good,” Cal said somewhere near her ear.
She felt the rumble of his voice in his chest. “Aly’s shampoo,” she blurted.
The rain hammered the porch’s tarpaper roof, the sandy dirt, a two-foot swath of the weathered boards. She watched the water bounce crazily off the slick planks , memorizing the firmness of Cal’s chest against her arm, the feel of his fingers gripping her shoulder. For this moment, it was okay to be this close to Cal.
“Sitting here with you in the rain makes me think of something Douglas Coupland said in Shampoo Planet. ”
Raine turned her face toward him.
“He said we tempt fate by accidentally feeling too happy one day.”
“Like if you’re completely happy, something’s bound to go wrong?”
“Right.”
She couldn’t see his eyes in the cloud-obscured moonlight. “You’re happy?”
“Yeah, yeah I am.” His serious tone told her he was no longer toying with her. His fingers tightened on her shoulder. He leaned toward her, their lips inches apart.
Raine didn’t breathe. She was caught in now, a willing prisoner. Her eyes found Cal’s jaw — dark with a day’s worth of stubble — his eyes , darker still.
Part of her heard the rain pull out as quickly as it had come , retreating across the athletic field behind them.
Cal leaned his head back against the slats of the building, his arm going slack around her. “Something will go wrong like the rain will stop.”
The air emptied out of her lungs, and she breathed in reason. Maybe God’s stopping the rain was something going right . She eased away from Cal. Goose bumps along the path where
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