I snorted. I couldn’t help it.

“Did you just snort at me?” he asked with a smile in his voice.

“C’mon. You can’t tell me that you didn’t notice how that sounded. When it hits the right angle, a rainbow is released.” I covered my mouth with my hand to hide the second snort.

Wes’ forehead fell to my shoulder, and his body shook in silent laughter. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with me,” he said and lifted his head. “I’ll always give you a rainbow, C,” he whispered through a laugh and proceeded to grind against my rear end obscenely.

I giggle snorted and shoved my elbow back into him. “Oh, my God, stop.”

“Just call me the leprechaun.” He laughed and stepped back to my side where I shoved him again, but with my hand. “Okay, okay,” he said mimicking an OM stance with his hands. “So what I was getting at before I was so awesomely interrupted.” He winked at me, and I melted. “Was that you say you wear white because you are blank, empty, all that bullshit.”

I placed my hand over my heart faking offense.

“But really, white is the presence of all color. You may not see it,” he nodded back up to the white rainbow, “but you’re every color, Capri. You just have to find the light that helps you display it.”

“Huh,” I said when really I meant wow.

“So, what brings you by today, Weston?” Ridge’s mom busted out a tray of my favorite Snickerdoodles.

“Yesss.” I swiped three and shoved them into my mouth before the tray hit the coffee table.

“Dude, save some for me.” Ridge came in with a skateboard in hand and took only one for himself. Amateur.

“Ridge?” Mrs. Jackson gave him the softest stern face I’d ever seen.

“Sorry, Ma.” Ridge plopped down on the couch across from me. “Wes,” he corrected himself and flipped me off when his mom wasn’t looking.

“It’s okay, kid,” I said and flipped him off in turn when Mrs. Jackson turned her back to pull open a curtain. Mentor of the year right here, folks.

“Look, Ma. I got a B on my science test.” Ridge leaned over pulling a blue wrinkled sheet of paper from his backpack.

“Atta boy.” Mrs. Jackson clapped her hands once then swiped the sheet from Ridge’s hands. “Would it kill you to put your paperwork in your folder?” she scolded smiling proudly at Ridge.

“A B, huh? That’s pretty decent,” I said winking at Ridge to let him know that I was joking.

“Did the teacher let you give the answers aloud?” his mom asked him.

“Yeah, thanks for talking to her, Ma. I knew it all, but I get confused when I have to read.” Ridge sat back into the couch comfortably.

“I know you do. Which reminds me. Your reading tutor cancelled tomorrow and rescheduled for Monday.” She told him, flattening out his test and setting it on the coffee table. Damn. Ridge had it made. I fought off the jealousy and instead focused on how proud I was of him and of the Jackson’s. I focused on why I came by today.

I leaned over and pulled out the envelope from my back pocket clearing my throat. “I wanted to drop this off.” I handed the wrinkled enveloped over to Mrs. Jackson.

“Looks like someone else needs a folder.” She smiled, but words that she meant to be a harmless tease cut through my chest.

I busied myself picking imaginary lint from my pants as she tore it open. I grimaced when I heard the gasp.

“Wes,” she whispered, and I glanced up to see her holding her hand over her mouth. “What is this?”

“It’s from the Classic Car show fundraiser, Mrs. Jackson. I talked with all the guys, and they agreed with me that it should go to you,” I explained and a sob escaped her.

Ridge leaped from his seat to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “What is it, Ma?” he asked, and she silently showed him the check.

“Whoa,” he whispered.

“I know it’s not a lot,” I explained, “but I was hoping it would help get you set up with everything. Clothes, college fund, tutoring, whatever you need.” Mrs. Jackson’s hand shot up in the air to quiet me.

“This is amazing, that you would do this for Ridge, and for us? This is more than enough, Weston.” She stood up and set the check down on the table before coming over and pulling me up into a stiff hug. “Thank you,” she whispered and squeezed tighter.

I sighed into the hug. “No, thank you,” I whispered back.

Dizzy, like I was spinning and couldn’t get my footing right. That was how I felt every time I left the Jacksons’ house. When I was there, I looked around and I was thankful that Ridge had such awesome parents who got him things like folders and tutors. Hopefully, his tutor was hot with a pencil in her hair. The kid deserved that. He deserved the cookies and the table with his school picture on it. So if I was stoked for him, why did I feel like I ate one too many California burritos?

Usually when I felt this way, I headed to Blue’s house, the shop, or August’s place. I guess I should start calling it August and Kensie’s place. It had been completely chickified with flowery pillows on the couch and candles that smelled like Christmas. I was still completely confused about why Kensie yelled at me for using the towels that were hanging in the bathroom. It was not like I jizzed on them. I guess I did touch my junk and then the towel, but there was a quick pass of water between the two so I just didn’t understand it, but I digressed.

Tonight, for some reason, I drove straight to Capri’s house. The only thing that seemed to subside the burning in my chest was when I thought about seeing her. So here I was in her driveway, flicking my headlights.

A few months ago, I only thought of Capri when I saw her. Like, ‘oh hey, there’s Capri.’ When August started seeing Kensie and Capri was around more, I naturally started to think of her more often. Like, before we’d meet at Tommy’s, I’d try on a few shirts and wonder which one she’d like best. Or, when one of my regulars gave me a B.J., I’d imagine it was Capri instead. Little things like that. Now though, fuck, now she was all I thought of.

The porch light flicked on. I tapped the steering wheel with my hands. Then the door creeped open slowly. A ray of light slipped through the crack, and then illuminated the figure in the doorway, like an angel.

With one step, the figure emerged from the light. Oh, fuck. I ducked under the dash. When did he get home? I clenched my eyes shut willing him to go back into the house. A few seconds passed, and then a solid knock hit my window.

I groaned and peeked up. Mr. Hunter stood with his arms crossed over his chest. I sighed and rolled down my window.

“Weston.”

“Mr. Hunter.”

“It’s Steve, Wes. I assume you are here looking for my daughter.”

“Yes, Mr. Hunter.” I nodded and sat up a little straighter.

He sighed. “When did you decide to start calling me Mr. Hunter?”

“Since I started having impure thoughts about your daughter,” I blurted out.

He didn’t say anything.

I didn’t say anything.

Crickets didn’t say anything. Say something, crickets!

“So, I’m guessing she’s not home?” I asked manning up to the crickets.

“No, Wes. She’s at August’s house watching a movie with Kensie.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hunter.” I nodded. “I’ll try there.” I reached down to crank my window up when his hand slammed onto the glass, holding it in place.

“And Wes? You’re like a son to me, but you break my baby girl’s heart and I’ll break those pretty, colorful arms. We clear?”