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shirt's a mess,"
she continues, looking down. She pulls something from my chest.
"Grass." She shows me a long blade of grass, and makes a
face, throwing it to the ground. "That would never happen to
me." She points to her own chest, sighing. "I'm flat as a
board. Nothing could get stuck in my cleavage, not even if I paid
it."
    I pat her shoulder
awkwardly. I've never thought of my chest as an asset before.
Braidon's gaze traveled over them more than once, but he was
different. I was a math equation he couldn't figure out, an
experiment he tried to learn more about. Love and relationships
aren't logical. Attraction isn't something that can be forced. We
both had our reasons for trying. None of it was innocent. None of it
was selfless.
    As usual, thoughts of
my past send weariness through my heart. I'd come to this place to
start again. I'd come to this place to learn to live. I didn't come
to regret.
    I didn't come to
remember.
    An ear-splitting cheer
erupts from around us. Clapping followed by roars of approval is
heard. This continues for several moments as Nat and I glance around,
trying to figure out what's going on. Finally, someone whistles, and
the sharpness pierces the night, silencing the clapping. Nat tugs at
the sleeve near my elbow, waving to indicate we'll be going through
the crowd. All I see is male flesh, but it doesn't deter Nat. She
pushes onward like a soldier. Nat sees a little space between and she
slips between it, murmuring, "Excuse us." Someone looks
over his shoulder, surprised. He does a double take, and his gaze
travels up and down. I see her straighten, pushing her chest out.
Maybe he thinks it's an invitation because he grins attempting to
grab her. I look straight ahead in case he thinks I'm trying to play,
too. I ignore his gaze even though I'm sure I feel the heat of it on
my neck.
    Nat drags me through
whatever human crevices we find, slipping between bodies and
underneath a couple of foul smelling arms. I cover my nose, wondering
if I'm going to faint. The dizziness has tripled, like I'm on a
seesaw, rocking back and forth. The sea of bodies catches me so I
don't fall. When we get to the front, she gasps. I follow her line of
vision.
    Oh.
    Oh my .

Chapter 3
    There's a girl riding a
boy.
    Actually, there are
two.
    Correction: there are many girls riding many boys.
    At first, I see nothing
but flesh. Tan and pale, dark and light. It's an explosion of muted
colors. The colors shift, moving, slow and graceful, like a snake
uncoiling. I grab Nat's shoulder to steady myself. Blinking once,
twice, I finally make out what's before me. Something is happening
where girls are riding the backs of men like they're horses; and the
men are doing push- ups as if they're in military camp. I see bikinis
and short shorts on the girls, and for a brief moment, I think we're
on a beach, and the men are living mounds of sand.
    I hear shouts of
encouragement; at least I think that's what "ride that bull,
lady" is meant to be. It could be something derogatory, but
there's so much giggling it can't be an insult. Something catches my
attention and I notice a man in a referee shirt. He's wearing orange
board shorts though. A part of me realizes the combination of black
and white stripes with bright orange flames don't go well together,
but there's a haze covering my eyes and I think it may not be so bad
after all; especially not against the backdrop of a dark night sky. I
name him "Ref" in my mind, and watch him walk the perimeter
of the circle, slapping a few bottoms. He whistles two, three times
and the people in the middle move away, leaving space for one lone
man. He's sitting casually on his knees. His shirt is off, and his
nipples are pierced. The metal rings glint against the array of
tattoos across his chest. I can't make out what they are.
    "It's down to two.
Cade," he gestures to the tattooed, nipple pierced man, "is
up first. Remember, this is all for charity," Ref says with a
southern drawl. He draws out the