Summer Circuit (The Show Circuit -- Book 1) by Kim Ablon Whitney

Author:Kim Ablon Whitney [Whitney, Kim Ablon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stafford Road Books
Published: 2014-12-08T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Chris didn’t come in that night. I didn’t know if Cheryl was there, not that she would have cared if I brought Chris inside (it might have set off a wildfire of horse show gossip), but I didn’t offer and he didn’t ask. It seemed like we were both okay taking things a little slowly as we tried to figure out what our feelings about each other meant. I couldn’t help but think how Chris was a grand prix rider whose life revolved around the show circuit and I was just here for a few more weeks before heading to college. Zoe would have said not to think about the future, but that wasn’t like me. I didn’t tell her about Chris because I felt funny about it. For one thing, we didn’t know what “it” was that was going on between us, and what if he didn’t want me to tell her?

Monday was super hot and humid, up into the nineties, and Zoe got a group together to go to the quarry. Hundreds of years ago, Weathersville became home to the country’s first marble quarry. As demand for the marble grew, several other quarries were built in the area. Now defunct, the leftover quarries were still stunning with their huge, gleaming slabs of marble. There were hidden quarries that you had to walk on old, overgrown mining trails to get to, but the quarry Zoe meant was off one of the main roads.

She must have invited Chris because he pulled in a few minutes after Zoe, Jed, and I did. I wondered if he’d come mainly because of me, or if that was hoping for too much. Maybe he and Zoe hung out on off-days?

Zoe wore a tiny, orange string bikini and she looked amazing in it. I had a bikini on too, but mine wasn’t as skimpy. Still, I felt Chris’s eyes on me when I pulled my shirt over my head.

All of us had terrible farmer’s tans, even Zoe. It was as if we had white polo shirts painted on and white socks that ran all the way up to our upper thighs. We stuck out among all the local kids who spent more than one day all summer in a bathing suit.

Chris had a farmer’s tan too, but it didn’t make him any less gorgeous. His chest was totally drool-inducing. He had a six-pack and strong, muscular upper arms. I wondered whether he worked out in addition to riding. Probably.

Chris suggested we jump from the rocks high up in the quarry. He assured us it was plenty deep. We had seen a few other kids do it. It wasn’t crazy high, but it was higher than a regular town pool diving board. Zoe didn’t want to. She shimmied into the water from the low marble slabs instead. It was me who followed Chris and jumped off after him without even second-guessing it. It wasn’t Zoe, who rode in the junior jumpers, slept with foreign men who were good in bed, and wore the orange bikini.

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