Page 57 of Courageous Hearts

“It’s going to be a damn good pizza,” I say, handing Bo the last ingredient. Mushrooms.

They take the bowl, but instead of adding the mushrooms, they turn their head slightly, cheek brushing mine. “C’mon. Y’know you want to.”

Lips in a smile against their skin, I tell them, “Pinch the cap gently. Not too much pressure. Guide it into place.”

Bo’s teeth rake their bottom lip as they grin, shaking their head slightly. “Terrible,” they mutter again, haphazardly tossing the mushrooms on top of the pizza. “Done?”

“All done,” I say, stepping back. I open the oven door, and Bo just stares at me.

“You want me to put it in?” they ask in all seriousness.

“I mean, I’m open to switching. Whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

It takes Bo a second, but then their eyebrows slowly raise, as if they’re wondering whether or not I’m still talking about our meal. But they stay on task, shaking their head and taking a step back from the pizza like it might bite them. “You do it.”

“All right,” I say with a chuckle, grabbing the pizza peel the dough is resting on and bringing it over to the oven. Carefully, I maneuver the dough onto the hot pizza stone, and then I close the oven door. “Voila.”

After setting the timer, I start collecting our used dishes. Bo follows me over to the sink.

“I’m glad you called,” they say, looking over at me almost shyly. “I was missin’ you.”

My chest swells like a hot air balloon. “Yeah? After a day?” I tease lightly, even though, as they pointed out, I was the one to call first.

“Yes,” they say ever so quietly, blue eyes meeting mine.

I finish washing my hands and then quickly dry them on a towel before I step into Bo, chest to chest, arms hooked over their shoulders. “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one.”

Bo breathes out, tilting their head up, and our lips gravitate toward one another in unison. It’s soft and unhurried, the kiss. Gentle even. But the impact is deep, reaching some untapped place inside me and jarring a few things loose on the way.

Everything with Bo has felt like that: an inevitable but gently rolling landslide.

When Bo and I step apart, I kick my hip against the counter, eyes lingering on their pink lips. “So, what do you want to do after this?”

Bo looks off to the side for a moment before asking, in a tentative voice, “Wanna go to the beach?”

“Tonight?” I ask in surprise. It’ll be getting dark soon.

“Yeah,” they say with a little smile. “I wanna see your favorite place.”

There goes that feeling in my chest again. That kind of sparking warmth, filling up the space between my upper ribs.

“Yeah, Blue,” I answer. “I’d love to show you my favorite place.”

The sun is starting to descend into the sky when Bo and I pull up to the beach site at the edge of Chicago. It’s not one of the popular ones with nearby food shacks, volleyball nets in the sand, and rows of large shade umbrellas where families can take a rest.

No, this beach is off the beaten path. You can’t even see the water from the parking lot, and Bo gives me a curious look when I turn off the ignition, as if they’re unsure we’re in the right spot.

“So, you’re not a serial killer, right?” they ask cheekily, even though they follow me out of the car. They round the hood, and I lead the way to a walking path nearby.

“Definitely not,” I say. “I hate blood.”

They hum. “There are a lotta ways to kill somebody without blood.”

I huff a laugh, looking over at Bo. They’re grinning at their shoes.

“I promise my intentions aren’t nefarious,” I say. “You’re the one who wanted to come out here, remember?”

“Yeah,” they reply with a chuckle. “I just didn’t expect a hike.”

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