Page 34 of Glad You're Here

“Fucking?” Thea finished my sentence with a flirty wink. She dug her black nails into my skin a little.

Holy shit. Breathe, dude. Breathe. My laugh sounded tight and awkward. Awesome.

Thea threw her head back and laughed, letting her hand fall back into her lap. “Oh, sweet child. You look terrified.”

A familiar feeling of disappointment settled in my chest. This time, I addressed it. “Child? Don’t you dare.” I kept my tone light but shot her a narrowed-eye look.

Thea bit her lip and nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re not the sad dude alone in a bar anymore.” She shrugged. “He was kinda cute, though. I liked him.”

My eyes darted over to her. Thea looked out the passenger side window without a care in the world. I turned my gaze back to the road, heart pounding. “Cute, huh? What am I now?”

Thea smirked but didn’t answer.

“Hot? Am I hot now, Thea?” I teased. “What’s that? You kind of want me?”

Thea laughed and shook her head.

“Oh my god. You want me to pull over and make out with you right now?”

Thea laughed harder this time. “Make out? Who says that?”

I flashed her a grin and tried to return my focus to the traffic. That proved more challenging than I thought. She didn’t deny that she found me attractive and wanted me to kiss her. “I say ‘make out.’ Thea, that’s adorable that you want me.”

Thea rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated groan. “Watch the road, dumbass. You’re going to miss the turn.” We’d almost reached the visitor’s center at North Rim.

I sighed and shook my head, completely not missing the turn into the parking lot. “Thea Lenore Traeger, you want me so bad. It must be hard to sit over there, keeping your hands to yourself.”

As soon as I pulled into a parking space and killed the engine, Thea unbuckled and pounced. She slid one hand into my hair and dragged the other up my thigh until it rested inches from my dick. No. Not inches. Centimeters. Her lips hovered above mine. I couldn’t breathe in the best way possible. “I’m not a good girl, Levi. If I don’t want to keep my hands to myself, I won’t.”

Before I could react, Thea opened her door and stepped out of my car. I shook my head to clear it and followed her to the visitor’s center. Checkmate. Thea was better at flirting. I didn’t dare tease her again today.

Maybe one more time. Walking behind her and watching her hips sway did something funny to me. “Thea, do you own yoga pants or leggings? If so, can you wear them tomorrow?”

When she turned around to give me a dirty look, I stared hard at her ass, pretending I didn’t know she could see me checking her out. “Hey, Levi.” When I looked up at her face, she flipped me off.

Twenty minutes later, when we stood at the end of Bright Angel Point overlooking the Grand Canyon, all the flirting and light-heartedness between us had vanished. Thea stood and stared at the scenery with an unreadable expression. Finally, she almost whispered, “I’m an idiot.”

I stepped closer so that our arms brushed against each other. “Why would you say that?”

“I used to think this wasn’t worth seeing. I thought it was cliché and that I’d be fine dying without ever seeing one of the most incredible sights in the world.” Her voice had that soft, dreamy quality that I only heard on rare occasions.

Maybe it was the way the light from the setting sun reflected in her eyes or the way the gentle breeze played with her hair, but Thea had never looked more beautiful. I wanted to ask if she still wrote fake suicide notes. I wanted to ask if she was okay and say the perfect supportive thing. Instead, I slid my arm around her shoulders and quietly said, “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Thea leaned into my side and wiped a single tear. “If you ever tell anyone the Grand Canyon made me cry, I’ll kill you.”

I laughed and squeezed her a little tighter into my side. She rested her head on my shoulder and let out the tiniest contented sigh.

Mormons like to talk about something called the Holy Ghost—something only Mormons get to experience. They say it’s the spirit of the Lord and that you only feel it when He’s present and testifying truth to you. You’re supposed to feel it in church, in the temple, and when you read the scriptures. The Holy Ghost was what caused people to cry when sharing their testimony of the gospel. It was a feeling so profound that it led people to dedicate their lives to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

I never felt it when I was supposed to. Growing up, I pretended I felt that “spirit” at all the right moments. I thought maybe I’d experienced that immense emotion once or twice, but it was when I listened to punk music alone in my car, never sitting in a Mormon chapel.

As I deconstructed my beliefs, I laughed off the Holy Ghost as another strange Mormon invention. But as I looked out over the majestic expanse of the Grand Canyon with Thea’s head on my shoulder, I felt it. I felt something so profound and stirring, whispering that I was exactly where I needed to be.

Maybe the Holy Ghost was real. Not how Mormons framed it, but maybe we all had something inside us that whispered our truths.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Was Thea my truth?

fifteen

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