the middle of the sidewalk watching Gia walk away, biting his bottom lip like he wished it was Gia’s ass.
“Son of a…” Kai started to turn, meaning to have a few words with old asshole but Gia gripped his arm, waving him off.
“Not worth it,” she told him. “My God, you really need to work on your impulse control.”
“I have impulse control,” he told her, popping his neck as they moved away from the old man. “You have no idea how much control I have.”
She ignored the glance he threw her way, likely choosing to disregard the subtle meaning of who Kai had to control himself around. Gia didn’t seem eager to open any doors that led to them kissing or elsewhere that made Kai’s impulse control necessary.
“You know, it’s not like you don’t get attention,” she admitted, smiling when they came to a group of young girls moving in the opposite direction on the sidewalk.
Kai thought he heard his name, definitely heard teenage squeals of excitement and then a bunch of muted arguing of those voices debating who would approach him.
“This never gets old,” Gia told him, leaning in to whisper in his ear. Kai closed his eyes, enjoying that sweet smelling scent for the half second it was there before she moved back to his side and they had to stop at another intersection.
“Um…Mr. Pukui?” he heard, turning to see a young blond girl, her eyes small, her skin tan. Like her companions behind her, the girl wore a school uniform—plaid red and gray skirt, and red polo shirt with a giant red bow in her hair. “Can I…get a selfie with you?”
“He’d love that,” Gia said, pushing Kai and the girl away from the intersection, posing them at a corner of the street that lined up with an azalea bush blooming bright pink flowers. “Why don’t you all get in the picture?
In unison, the girls screamed, jumping up and down as they surrounded Kai and he clenched his jaw, shooting Gia a quick glare he had to recover the second she held up the blond girl’s phone as they posed for the image.
“On three,” Gia said, shifting her gaze from the screen to Kai’s face, her smile wicked and obnoxiously amused. “One…two…three!”
Several…million selfies later, Gia was hysterical, Kai was irritated, and six sophomores from St. John the Baptist all girls’ school from lakeside each had a selfie, group selfies and bragging rights that they’d med the Steamers’ lineman.
“So good for fan morale,” Gia teased, her laughter increasing when Kai ignored her.
“Shut up,” he said, still trying to wipe the bright pink lipstick from his cheek. “That little girl had a death grip. I was scared she wasn’t going to let me go.”
“Hmm, maybe I should recruit her. We can always use second string running backs.”
The laughter bubbled from Kai’s chest and his irritation at the small Catholic school girl attack left him. He liked being with Gia. He liked there being nothing between them—no excuses for them not to talk freely, no reason for anyone to question why they were together. She wasn’t telling him to forget what happened at Summerland’s or that nothing would ever come of the obvious spark that buzzed between them anytime they were together.
Gia had walls and Kai did his best to break them down.
They came to the last intersection before their building, some four blocks from home and he, again, stepped in front of her, keeping Gia from the swarm of students, all decked out in khaki shorts and navy blue shirts, that descended from a yellow school bus when it stopped at the corner of the street.
“Everyone in a line. Find your partner!” a heavy-set man called, waving his arms to grab the attention of what looked like at least a hundred children.
“Shit,” Gia said, hanging onto Kai’s arm when several kids in one line brushed against her.
“Here,” he told her, hoisting her off the street by her hips and onto the window ledge of a Gucci outlet before he joined her, taking her hand as she helped him up. “Best to get out of their way than try to move around them.”
“Are you Kai Pukui?” he heard, glancing at the small, older woman, her arms loaded down with several bouquets of white and pink roses.
“Guilty,” he told her. The woman looked tired, her face a little gaunt, her hair dry and fraying in the loose braid she wore. Something in her face, how dull her eyes were, how sallow