The Brightest Light of Sunshine

Almost five weeks and two major mental breakdowns later, the blank Word document belonging to my stupid unwritten book still haunts me. And it continues to do so after Professor Danner dismisses us, and I lean back in my seat with a groan.

“Same.” A nearby masculine laugh reaches my ears. Turning around, I lock eyes with Luke Elms. “How’s your project going?”

With his tall, slim build, bright blond hair and big blue eyes, I’ve always thought Luke was the spitting image of a cherub. I’ve known him since my first year at Warlington, although we couldn’t have exchanged more than a handful of words in total.

He’s also Olivia’s son and sometimes helps her carry the heavier boxes into the charity shop I volunteer at. It’s a small world after all, huh?

From what I’ve gathered, he’s a quiet lacrosse player who gives me more surfer vibes than anything else. Maybe it’s his chill attitude.

I sigh, unable to hide my frustration. “I don’t have much planned yet.” Nothing at all, in fact. “What about you?”

He gives me an easy smile as he puts his laptop away in his shoulder bag. “I think I’m gonna give a shot to crime fiction. I’ve watched way too many crime shows, it has to pay off somehow.”

“Oh, wow.” That sounds way too complicated and far more interesting than anything I could ever come up with.

“I’m just outlining it, though.”

“That… It sounds amazing, Luke.” I give him a genuine, encouraging smile because I don’t want to project my own insecurities onto this poor guy. “I’m sure Danner will be impressed.”

He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck nervously. Is he… blushing?

“Well, that’s if I actually dare to start it.” He laughs again. “Anyway, thanks for the encouragement. I… I gotta get to practice now but I’ll see you around, Grace. Maybe I’ll stop by the shop this Saturday. And good luck with the project.”

“Thanks, Luke. You, too.” I wave at him like a loser as he descends the stairs and exits the classroom.

Once he’s gone, I close my eyes and wonder if I’ll ever be able to talk to a man ever again without feeling like a fool or wanting to throw up. So far, the only man I can be myself with is Cal and while I’m not complaining, I would like to test my social skills with someone else.

Maybe cherub-looking Luke is the perfect candidate for that. He hasn’t given me the creeps so far, and he’s Olivia’s son. I like Olivia.

“He’s totally into you.”

I turn my head just in time to catch Sadie’s knowing smirk.

I blink. “Who? Luke?”

“Totally.”

Sadie, with their pastel pink hair and their nose piercing, is one of those people I tend to gravitate towards even if we’re not really friends. I’ve known them for a couple of years, but we’ve never talked outside the classroom. I sat next to them in one of our classes last year because they gave me good vibes, and we’ve even worked on a group project together. When they learned I was adopted by gay parents, they declared themselves my number one fan and we’ve sat near each other since then. However, they hang out with an off-campus crowd and I’m not comfortable enough to make new friends, so this is all we get.

“I don’t think he’s interested like that. He was just being friendly,” I tell them as I grab my things. “I work with his mom.”

They shrug like they don’t believe me. “Trust me, he’s into you. I’ve got an eye for these things. I haven’t seen a guy blush over a girl in a very long time.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Thanks for the heads-up, but I’m not interested in a relationship right now.” It’s not exactly a lie.

“You can hook up with him, no strings attached,” they offer as any good ol’ matchmaker would. I know they mean well and it’s not like they know about my past, so I don’t take offense at their insistence.

“I’m not into hooking up, either.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I’ll mind my business then,” they say with a smirk.

I smirk back. “It’s fine. I’m used to my friends pestering me to get out there.”

“But still. If I made you uncomfortable, I apologize.”

I shake my head. “I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary. I mean it.”

A small smile breaks out on their lips. “Okay. I’ll see you around then, Grace.”

After waving them goodbye, I hook my tote bag up on my shoulder and exit the almost empty classroom. I feel more tired than usual, and the constant messy thoughts in my head don’t help me relax.

In the past month, I’ve gone to one party with my girlfriends, and, to my surprise, it went fairly well. Which for me means that I didn’t want to run away, throw up, and that no slimy weirdos approached me at all. It was one of the best nights I’ve had with Em, Amber and Céline, and I promised them we’ll go out together again soon.

Part of my newly found confidence stems from—listen to this—reading smutty books. That’s right.

I’ve gone through three of them already, one high fantasy novel and two contemporary romances, and I must say that living vicariously through those characters has helped me immensely.

Did you know there’s something called safe words? Before having sex both partners can agree on a word to say when they need to stop. I didn’t know it was a thing, and it eased some of my internal worries. When he touched me four years ago, not even the word ‘stop’ would make him—

Beep.

Cal: Vegan food truck tonight?

Smiling down at my phone, I fight to shake the feeling of my assault away. Two weeks ago, I became this close to finally telling him about it, but it didn’t feel right at the time. I don’t even know what that means or why it matters, and yet…

Grace: Yup. I’ll meet you at the shop at closing time?

Cal: *thumbs up*

Seeing and texting him always manages to lift my mood, so even though I still feel somewhat crappy, the storm in my head clears away as I make my way to my dorm. Emily told me the other day I totally have a crush on Cal, but that’s… not true.

I can’t have a crush on him. Sure, he might be charming, and patient, and funny, and wickedly hot with those bulky tattooed arms, and he’s so patient with his sister, and—

No.

Absolutely not. I’m not going down this rabbit hole. Not right now, and not ever. Nope.

Cal and I share something special—my first real friendship with a man I feel safe with—and I’m not going to even attempt to think about my tiny little crush on him and jeopardize it.

Not that I have a crush. Because I don’t.

I find him attractive both physically and mentally, so what? Sue me. It doesn’t mean anything.

Anything at all.

***

As I let myself into the tattoo parlor hours later, I’m relieved to find out my stupid hormones carry all the blame about my earlier breakdown over Cal. Because right when I got home from my last class of the day, I got my monthly visit from Aunt Flo. Which means I’m dying inside right now, and I barely feel my legs, but hey—at least I can blame my not-crush on a period-induced lapse in judgment. All is good and under control. Mostly.

“Hey.” He’s right by the front desk when I enter. Cal gives me a quick once-over before glancing down at his laptop again. “You look pale. Paler than usual, I mean.”

Am I surprised he notices my shitty estate of mind and body right away? Not really.

“I don’t feel so good.” Carefully, I lower myself onto the leather couch and hiss when another cramp attacks my abdomen.

In a heartbeat, he’s kneeling beside me, whatever he was doing behind the counter long forgotten. Worry bathes his features. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

I shut my eyes and adjust my posture on the couch, but nothing I do helps at all. “I’m dying.” Then, because I can’t see it but I can imagine the look of horror in his face, I add, “Period cramps.”

His relieved sigh hits me a second later. “Did you take any painkillers?” Nodding, I tell him that they usually take too long to take effect. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a second.”

The only non-humiliating thing about all this is that at least the shop is closed, so I can be miserable in peace. I don’t think walking in for an appointment and seeing a random woman all sprawled out on the couch groaning like she’s two seconds away from death would make a great impression.

True to his word, Cal comes back a few moments later with some kind of red package between his hands. “Heat pack.”

“Why do you have that in here?” I manage to ask in the middle of the pain.

“You’d be surprised by the random shit we keep in the breakroom. I’m gonna put this on your abdomen now, yeah?”

I can only nod and watch as he kneels in front of me again and presses the heat pack over the thin material of my leggings. He does it so gently my stomach jumps, and this time it has nothing to do with cramps.

“We’ll leave this here for fifteen minutes.” When he shoots me that same pity look he gives Maddie when she wants to go to the park but it’s raining, I almost want to cry because I know what he’s going to say next and I don’t want to hear it. “I don’t think we should go to the food truck tonight.”

I groan in pain as I try to sit down straighter. “No, it’s okay. I’m fine. I want to go.”

“We can if you really want to, but I don’t think we should if you’re in pain.” He runs his fingers through my hair in a comforting gesture.

“Can we still hang out?” I swallow because I can’t believe I’m feeling so stupidly emotional right now. Fuck hormones and fuck periods. “I’m not sure I want to be alone right now.”

His eyes soften and I lean into his touch. “Okay. If that’s what you want, we’ll hang out here.”

“Really?” I beam.

“Really. I don’t know how to say no to you.”

Oh, man.

“Are you hungry? I can order some food if you want,” he suggests, as if he hadn’t just left my heart in complete shambles.

“To the shop?” He nods. All right then. “I’m craving mozzarella sticks.”

“Whatever you need. Let me grab my phone and I’ll get us some dinner.”

By the time our food arrives, I’m already feeling way better. The painkillers have kicked in and stuffing my grumpy stomach with some homemade delicacies from The Spoon helps a whole lot.

Once dinner’s done and we clean up, Cal grabs the laptop from the counter and puts one of those reality shows about hot single people not being allowed to have sex while on a dream island vacation we’ve become so addicted to. He sits on the couch next to me, and when he wraps an arm around my shoulders and I lean into the comforting warmth of his body, I realize two things.

One—the tattoo shop is eerily cozy at night.

And two—I trust Cal with my mind, my body, my heart, my secrets. And it scares the hell out of me.