Free rock by Anyta Sunday Page A

me!” He clasps my foot and peels off my sock. “Tell me, or I tickle.”
    “It’s nothing.”
    He tickles. I squirm to get free, laughing harder.
    “Let’s try that again, shall we? What’s going on with you?”
    “Absolutely nothing.”
    His tickle works its way up my calf to my knee. I buck, trying to kick him off. “Too ticklish!”
    “Then tell me the truth.” He wiggles his finger threateningly but I shake my head.
    “Fine, but you asked for it.”
    Jace straddles me, his ass pressed against my lower stomach. He leans forward and tickles my armpits.
    I scream out in laughter, and tears stream down my face. I lift my hips to buck him off but he takes it in stride, rising and falling with me. He shoves his cool hands under my T-shirt and my body arches with yearning. Keep touching me like this! Yes, skate your fingertips over my chest. Keep tickling me like this forever.
    Jace stops moving and looks down at me solemnly. Our gazes clash. His dark blue eyes remind me of blue apatite, a mineral of inspiration, creativity, and awareness.
    Awareness. I’m aware of the way he’s sitting on me, aware of his warm weight and the pressure of his fingers against my chest. Aware of the blood that is making my cock hard. Aware of the electrical buzzes that pass through me as he continues to stare.
    My breath hitches. Jace sits up, dragging his fingers off me. I can’t be sure but I think they are shaking. “Tell me,” he pleads.
    I swallow, praying he doesn’t shuffle back further or I won’t need to tell him anything. I want him to stay where he is but I gesture for him to get off. I hurriedly fold myself into a less conspicuous position. “The thing is . . .”
    Footsteps pound down the hall and throw me out of the moment. I try again. “Thing is—”
    Annie flings open the door. “Jace.” Her calm voice somehow turns me cold. “Your mum is crying. I heard them downstairs.”
    “She’s back?” Jace rushes toward the door. “I thought she was working late.” Jace hurries downstairs.
    “Do you know why she’s crying?” I ask.
    Annie shakes her head. “Dad was comforting her. He looked upset too. I came right up here.”
    I bite my lip. Has Dad told her about me and she’s crying for my soul? Will Dad change his mind about being okay with me?
    Calm down. Lila has never been narrow-minded. This has nothing to do with you.
    But what if it does?
    We wait for Jace a while and slither off to our rooms when he doesn’t return.
    I place today’s stone in a shelf above my dresser. I stare at it for a few minutes until I hear Jace behind me. He slumps through the open door and sits on my bed. I turn, lean against the dresser, and watch him. He’s frowning and staring into the space between us.
    “What’s the matter with your mum?” I ask carefully.
    He glances at me. “She won’t tell me but something’s up.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    He draws with his foot against the carpet. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
    “Yeah,” I say, hoping to console him. “It’ll be fine.”
    Nodding, he draws in a breath. He speaks but he’s not really paying attention. “So what were you about to tell me?”
    I shake my head. I can’t tell him now, and I don’t know that I would have before either. Coming out to him is not the same as it was the others. With Jace, it feels like I have more at stake—more between us that can break—and I’m not ready to deal with those consequences.
    I know I have to do it eventually but . . . not yet.
     

flint
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Over the weekend, Jace buys a used car, a small faded-teal hatchback that reminds me of mottled flint. But it works and it’s rust-free. He takes me for a drive around the block, though technically this is illegal on a restricted license.
    We stop at the beach, where I run in to the local dairy to buy us ice cream. We lick our ice creams while we stare at wisps of sand whipping across the beach. The choppy water is