Page 68 of Pieces of Ash
“He did.” Gus looks up at the glass I’m holding and sighs dramatically. “Oh, but the talent, honey. Thetal-ent.”
I feel a grin quirk the corners of my mouth, but I don’t turn away in time. Gus sees.
“Oh, look here, now. Wait wait wait wait, baby doll. Is that a blush I see? Oh, my gracious Lord above, does my li’l Ash have a crush?”
“Stop,” I hiss, looking across the yard at Julian, who throws a beanbag into a hole, then taunts his sister with his victory.
“He is amanlypiece of man,” Gus swoons, covering his chest with a manicured hand, his lacquered nails shiny in the dying sun. “You could choose worse.”
“Stop staring,” I plead. Julian’s going to know we’re talking about him.
“You’re no fun.”
“We went for a walk today,” I say, studying the place settings like my life depends on it.
“Oh,reeeeeally? Tell me more.”
“We talked a little. Walked a little.”
“Did you let him touch your?—”
“Gus!”
“—handa little?”
“You weren’t going to sayhand,” I say, raising an eyebrow at him. “Cut it out. I’m a good girl.”
“Maybetoogood,” Gus mutters under his breath, standing up to place napkins on plates.
“What doesthatmean?”
Gus puts his hands on his hips, giving me major attitude. “Your mama was the fiercest bitch I ever met. And Lord knows she was trouble, but she had somespirit!” He tilts his head to the side. “I get you, honey. I get that you don’t want to turn into your mama. But damn, girl, you ain’t the Virgin Mary either. Live a little. Have some fun. That boy gives you tingles in the tinderbox? Well, hell. Let him strike a match already.”
“Youcan’tbe serious.”
“Why not?” He widens his dark eyes with exasperation. “Is you eighteen? Is you hot? Is you ready?”
“Gus…”
“Don’t youGusme. When’s the last time you kissed a man?”
I stare at him.
“Tell me you have kissed a man, Ashley Carys Ellis.”
I sigh softly, blinking at him. “When I was thirteen.”
His index finger flicks back and forth. “Thirteen is not a man, peaches. Thirteen is a boy.”
“Well, there it is.”
“Now, honey,youcan’t be serious.”
“Whoexactlywas I going to kiss?” I ask, putting my hands on my own hips to mirror him. “Father Joseph? Mosier? Mystepbrothers? Where, exactly, O wise one, was I supposed to find a man to kiss?”
“Lord, child,” he says, shaking his head at me like my entire existence is impossible now that he’s discovered I’ve been kiss free since thirteen. “You must be backed up to China. You arewayoverdue to let loose.”
Jock bellows a triumphant whoop from the grass, and Gus’s eyes slide to his partner, who’s jumping up and down like he just won the lottery. Jock high-fives Noelle, then shakes hands with Julian, who offers Jock a rare grin, and afeelingsweeps over me. A feeling so sharp, it hurts. The kind of hurt that knocks the wind from your lungs and leaves you gasping.
