Page 76 of Pin-up Girl

It would have to do for now. I could better sort my thoughts out around this inspiration, so it would make more sense to Clint when I found him.

Raindrops hammered my windshield, and the rhythm should help me focus. I couldn’t quiet my thoughts long enough to grasp them, though. As I headed toward the edge of town, I was too excited to focus. We could… The possibilities… The things that could be made…

The loop of unfinished thoughts ground to a halt as I neared an old factory that had been abandoned since we were in high school, at least. Clint would escape here to dance, and his truck was parked around the side of the building.

I parked next to him, darted through the storm, and stepped inside. While the outside was in far worse repair than last time I was here, inside was still largely clean. Debris was pushed to the sides, leaving large portions of the floor clear. Parts of the concrete were cracked, but other portions were smooth and intact.

And one of those patches was where I saw Clint. There was a crack in the clouds, and rays of sunshine poked through, slicing through the holes in the roof as well, and lighting him up like a heavenly spotlight.

I couldn’t hear what he was dancing to, but his movements were as fluid and beautiful as ever.

The sun vanished as the rain’s intensity increased, and I didn’t care. I was captivated. He was grace personified.

Clint spun, and faltered when his gaze landed on me. “Fuck, you scared me.” He laughed as he took out his earbuds.

I shrugged. “I was trying to figure out how to interrupt you.” Except, I hadn’t really been. I would have watched him all night.

“Hmm.” Clint approached me, stopped with his toes nearly touching mine, and poked me in the arm. Once. Then again.

“What are you doing?”

“I thought you might be a ghost I summoned.”

“Were you communing with the dead?”

Clint shook his head. “Just the past. Hoping I’d see Aubrey tonight.”

An ache spawned inside, but I had no idea how to interpret the feeling.

“Or you.” Clint turned away and headed toward his bag.

His words made the ache shift.

I pushed the sensation aside and followed him. “I was looking for you. Is this a good time?” Of course it wasn’t. We were in the middle of a half-gutted building, during a heavy rainstorm, and I’d interrupted him.

He moved a pile of sweats off a duffle bag and grabbed a towel to wipe his face. “What’s up?” He asked as he stretched.

“I know how to make your thread.”

Clint chuckled.

“What?” I asked.

“Just… You’re still you after all this time.” He bent at the waist, pressing his hands to the ground, and held the pose for a few counts, before moving to stretch his legs individually.

Him cooling down while we talked was as familiar as if I’d watched him do it yesterday, so I had an idea what he meant. “Would I be someone else?”

“Money and success change people,” Clint said.

I’d changed. “I don’t hesitate to buy a first-class plane ticket.”

“I bet you still do. You just talk yourself into it being okay at the end.”

I grinned. Fair point. “Why were you hoping to see me?”

“I was ghost hunting.” Clint locked his hands behind him and rocked forward, raising his wrists toward the sky.

There was that phrasing again. “Am I a ghost?’

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