by Penny Reid
This was it, this was it! I held my breath waiting for him to lean in and…
The couch shifted as Marc stood up.
Oh.
“About the other night…” he began, and my stomach sank to my knees. Damn it. This was it, but the wrong IT.
I stood up to face him. If he was going to give this speech, I wanted to be on my feet.
He stuck his hands in his jean pockets as if he thought they needed some sort of prison. “It really should not have happened,” he said.
I swallowed past the pineapple-sized lump that had formed in my throat. “Exactly.” No way was I letting him think I ever thought differently. “Going to screw up our whole roommate situation. Not happening again.”
“Definitely not happening.” He took a step toward me. Suggestively? I thought so. But my instincts have failed me before.
“Right,” I said. I wasn’t going to back down.
“So right,” he said, taking another step. Were we flirting? Had we merely run out of conversation? I had no idea what was happening.
“Right,” I said again, moving a little closer too.
“Right.” Another step. I could feel the heat radiating off his body.
I inched slightly closer, wondering if he could feel my heat, too.
“Right.” He eyes were glued to my lips, and I was desperately reminding myself not to do the nervous twisty thing.
“Right.” Had he moved again? I couldn’t tell. His eyes were hypnotizing.
“Right.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he finally said, “wrong,” and he kissed me.
Fireworks! They were exploding from my skin, so bright they could probably be seen from space.
We were all over each other, our lips locked, our tongues tangled. It was criminal how good he was at that. Not like I’ve kissed that many guys, but this was leagues beyond what they’d ever done. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t occur to me what kissing like that foretold.
I was dizzy, and it wasn’t from the wine. I steadied myself on his shoulders, and his arms came around to encircle my waist. I kissed down the side of his neck. It still smelled like the cologne he’d worn earlier, all sandalwood and mint.
So masculine and so delicious. Good grief, Charlie Brown. I was a goner. Was it too early to declare my undying love? My lips moved back up, found his again, and got swept off my feet all over again. This was the kind of kiss people wrote books about. Long, and searching, and life-changing.
It felt… it felt like the first time Lois Lane got scooped up and carried into the clouds. Suddenly the whole earth was beneath me, because I was soaring.
When we broke for air, he smoothed my t-shirt up and over my head, and I reciprocated. This time, when we kissed, there was skin on skin and I was sure he could feel my heart beating out of my chest and into his.
My pajama bottoms came down easily. Marc’s jeans were trickier. I managed to get them unzipped, and they were loose enough to shimmy down to his ankles, but he was still wearing his shoes. Boots, to be precise. The kind worn outdoors that aren’t meant to be just toed off. Those boots were staying there until we sat down and pulled, and we were just too wrapped up in making out to stop for that kind of task. Obvs.
So, with our mouths still pressed together, Marc tried to step out of his jeans instead. Tried to pull the boots through the pant legs. In my head, I was screaming at him to hurry, because I couldn’t wait any longer. But in real life, my lips were still glued to his, because I couldn’t bear to part from him.
And what happened next may or may not have been my fault because I tried to help him by stepping on the pants between his feet and our legs somehow got tangled and I was lightheaded from the kissing and there’d been wine, and, well—
The blood gushing from his forehead after hitting the coffee table when he tripped over our feet and fell just didn’t look good at all.
Chapter 5
“...and so then he had to get nine stitches in his forehead,” I said, wrapping up my account of Couch Night Part Deux at girl’s brunch the next morning. I’d gone back and forth about whether I should tell my friends about Marc or not, but in the end, the story was too funny not to share. “And, the worst part? I got my pajama pants back on, but I never got a chance to grab a fresh shirt, since I’d used mine to stop the bleeding, so I went to the ER in my bra.”
“No way!” Scarlet exclaimed. Lizzie and Ava were already wiping tears from their eyes, they were laughing so hard.
“This is truly the best story you’ve ever told,” Lizzie said when she’d finished wheezing. “And you’ve told a lot of good stories. I never thought anything would top your chin meeting Marc’s dick.”
“Thank you. I think.” I was sure I’d told several stories that were at least just as good, but it was nice to know my friends were always prepared to be a good audience.
“Her story doesn’t add up, though, did you notice?” Ava said to the table. I could feel my cheeks heat and my eyes go wide, because of course I’d tried to get away with not mentioning Couch Night Part One. If I told Ava about that, I’d look like a serial cousin-kisser, and though I hoped to be, I wasn’t really.
Plus, I was certain she’d laugh about one time, but be less amused by two.
“I noticed,” Lizzie nodded. That traitor.
“One question—you wear a bra with your pajamas?” Scarlet asked, whispering as she said the word bra as if it were a dirty word.
“It was my Superman sports bra. It matched the panties.”
Maybe I’d sounded a touch too defensive because Ava immediately slammed her hand on the table like a judge’s gavel, making my coffee jump. “A-ha! See? She wore matching underwear! No one ever wears matching underwear unless they’re hoping for it to be seen.”
“I was not hoping!” I said even more defensively than the last statement. “I was trying to be prepared. Just in case.”
“Yeah,” Lizzie said, bouncing the baby up and down on one knee. “Just in case Marc came home from his mother’s farm and said, ‘Hey girl, how about a cucumber to go with the wine’.”
Well. One can always dream. And we were one ER trip away from making that dream come true.
I waggled my eyebrows. “It felt like a pretty fat cucumber…”
Ava winced. “You guys! Gross! This is my cousin. I can’t think about him like this. His manhood can only be funny when it’s being chinned.”
“I’m sorry.” I probably would have sounded more apologetic if I wasn’t still cracking up as I said it. “But even you have to admit that Marc is one hot cousin.”
More than hot, actually, he was also interesting and funny. That’s what we like to call the total package, but I couldn’t say the word package around Ava after the cucumber comment. She’d smack me.
“I can admit that, actually. We’ve got good genes.”
Just then, Lizzie’s eyes widened. Frantically, she elbowed Ava. “Look who just walked in!”
“Oh God, this is going to be amazing,” Ava said gleefully. Then, waving her hand in the air, she yelled, “Hey, Marc! Over here!”
“Ha, ha,” I said flatly. I peered over my shoulder anyway, knowing full well I’d be met with Ava’s spirited accusation of Made you look!
Instead, I was met with the very subject of our delightful conversation, standing in front of Russell-the-barista, staring back at me with the same look of surprise I must have had. My stomach did a happy slow roll before my brain caught up to reminding it this was a terrible time to see him.
It was exactly my luck. I should never have doubted it.
I sunk into my chair wishing, not for the first time in my life, that I had the superpower of turning invisible at will. Right about now would be a fantastic time to snap my fingers and slink out in all my see-through shame. Alas! I was still solid, and here, and blushing furiously.
Marc gave a half-smile and a half-wave, seeming to be as unsure about joining us as I was. I half-heartedly shrugged at him. Then he moti
oned that he’d be over as soon as he placed his order. I wanted to be near him, but not like this. Why, oh why, was he even here?
“Madison, did he know you’d be here?” Lizzie asked suspiciously. Apparently all my thoughts were on display today.
“That’s what I was just wondering,” Scarlet gasped. “We come to the Doughnut Lounge all the time and this is the first time we’ve bumped into him. It seems awfully coincidental.”
“Coincidental, indeed,” Ava agreed smugly.
“Oh, hush. This is the closest coffee shop within walking distance to our house. It’s not really that weird.” Actually, I was slightly annoyed that the Doughnut Lounge wasn’t exclusively my place anymore.
But, also, I was flattered.
Had I let it slip that I was meeting the girls here today? Was it truly possible that Marc had come here in hopes of seeing me?
I liked that idea a lot, but surely it was me projecting. After all, I’d totally be stalking him were the tables turned.
Then I remembered who my friends are. What they were capable of. The lengths they’d go to make this story even better when they re-told it amongst themselves later. “Hey,” I said sternly, meeting the eyes of each of the girls around the table including sweet eight-month old Charlotte on her mother’s lap. “Do not let on that I told you anything. Anything. I mean it. I swear, if any of you says a word—”
I cut myself off because Marc was on his way over, with a to-go cup and a white carry-out bag. I let out a sigh of relief—he wasn’t planning on staying. Thank god. I mean, I wanted to look at him all day, but this was not the correct circumstance.
“Hi, ladies,” he said, standing over us. “I’ve walked by here so many times. This is the first time I’ve decided to come in. How is it?”
“It’s so good,” Lizzie said, grinning a little too wide. “Please, join us.”
He held up the sack and his drink. “Thanks, but I really was planning just to grab and go. So I’ll leave—”
“Damn!” Ava exclaimed, interrupting him. “What on earth happened to your forehead?”
I almost choked on my Old-Fashioned old-fashioned doughnut. You know—an old school doughnut with the flavors of the—well, of the bourbon cocktail.
Lizzie brought her hand to her mouth and started coughing to hide her laughter. I kicked her under the table and gave her the death glare. It gave me a place to put my eyes because there was no way in hell I was looking at him at that particular moment.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his body shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
“Fell,” he said abruptly. He cleared his throat. “I fell. Hit it.”
Good. That was good. Now he could go.
“Ah,” Ava said, nodding. “On what?”
Oh my god, I’d kill her.
“A table. The table next to the couch.” I could feel his eyes boring into the top of my head, but I would not look at him. I would not. In fact, I would not look at any of them. I needed to examine my doughnut very, very carefully.
“Hmm. That’s weird,” Ava said, innocently. “How did that happen? Did you…trip…or something?”
“Yeah, yeah. I tripped.”
“Really? Over what?” Fabulous. Lizzie had managed to stifle her laughter and now she’d joined in.
“I don’t know. My own feet, I guess.”
Ava cocked her head. “That’s weird. You’re always so graceful.”
“Please don’t ever say that about me again.”
“Yeah,” Scarlet said. “That’s not a manly enough term for a man like Marc. Is it, Madison?”
I turned my death ray eyes in Scarlet’s direction. Did I say I wished for invisibility? I meant laser eyes.
Fortunately, Ava skipped over Scarlet’s interjection. “I just meant that it’s strange to think of you tripping over your own feet. Now, if there’d maybe been something else to trip over, like if you’d gotten tangled up in something on the floor, say like…a blanket. Or an article of clothing—”
“Or another person!” Scarlet offered.
Lizzie nodded. “And if there’d been alcohol involved.”
Obviously I’d have to get an entirely new set of friends. Besties since freshman year or not, we were done. Clearly the days of having each other’s backs were gone, replaced by an anything-for-comedy era. It would have been hilarious, too, if it were someone else but me.
“There may have been some wine,” Marc affirmed. “You know, Madison was there. She should tell it.”
My head popped up at the sound of my name.
Marc met my gaze, panic alight in his eyes. “She should tell it.”
Did he just throw me under the bus? Hell, no was I standing for that. “It’s really your story. I think it’s much better if you’re the one who shares it.”
“But you’re a much better story teller,” he insisted.
“Really,” I said, my teeth gritted. “They want to hear it from you.”
“Yes, you tell it,” Ava agreed.
“I wanna hear it from you, too,” Scarlet said eagerly.
Lizzie would probably have encouraged him as well if she hadn’t been busy trying to untangle her hair from Charlotte’s chubby fingers.
Maybe I’d let them live after all. But only maybe.
Obviously outvoted, Marc sighed. He pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Well. There was some wine. And an article of clothing. And another person. But not the way you seem to think.” Here he cut me an accusatory look. I just wide-eyed him back innocently.
“So I’d had a long weekend at the farm, and Jerry Helm had given me a bottle of white wine. I also stopped and picked up a bottle of red, because I wasn’t sure which one my roommate here would like, and I felt like we should try and get to know the people we’ve been living with for the last six months.”
So far, so good. He hadn’t lied, nor had he mentioned Couch Night Part One.
“We sat and drank and talked. I was extremely good at the figuring out the tasting notes in each bottle, I thought Madison was actually a little jealous. She complained about her sister, and expressed deep admiration for my keen sense of fragrance. Actually, working with my mom on her body-care line is probably how I got so good at wine in the first place.”
He smiled widely at me, and I could tell that villain was starting to enjoy himself. Jerk.
“What kind of wine are you into, Marc?” Ava asked.
“My favorite right now is probably this nice Californian, called Flip Flop.”
Ava’s smile grew as wide as his. “Go on,” she said. “You were busy being an expert?”
“Yes, yes I was. And then Madison dribbled some red wine down her white shirt. Gentleman that I am, I helped her remove it, but then I tripped on it as I gallantly went to go fetch her another one.”
“What a gentleman you are.” Ava was still grinning like a jack o’lantern.
“I do wonder how the shirt ended up on the floor, though?” Lizzie asked.
“I have to pee!” Scarlet said, quite clearly more in need of a good giggle than a pee. She fled.
Marc stood up abruptly, instead of answering. “I just remembered I have a…thing.”
Ava wasn’t about to let him go that easily. “A thing? School’s out now.”
“I’m, uh, meeting someone.”
Lizzie blinked her eyes. “A girl someone?”
Again, I kicked her under the table. She’d have a bruise later, and I didn’t feel one bit bad about it. Although—he wasn’t meeting a girl, was he?
“No!” Marc answered in a rush. He took a breath and added calmly, “No, not a girl. Someone else. For…” I watched his eyes scan the room in desperation, saw them land on the open calendar of the woman sitting at the next table. “Planners. About planners.” He shook his head, correcting himself. “About plans. For next year’s class schedule. Of course. Right.” He stood another moment in silence. Then, without another word, he grabbed his bag and his cup and turned
to go.
“Bye, Marc!” Ava called after him. “Tell Aunt Dee Dee I said hi the next time you go home!”
Lizzie was already laughing so hard she had to put her head on the table. And as soon as the door shut behind him, Ava joined in the hysterics and Scarlet came running back over to us.
“Who told it better?” Scarlet asked. Pretending her hand were a microphone, she pointed it toward Lizzie for an answer.
“Oooh. Tough one. Marc’s version wouldn’t have been as funny without Madison’s first, so I’m going to have to vote her.”
“Can we all take a moment to discuss how the budding sommelier drinks Flip Flop?” Ava asked. I didn’t get it.
“Wait a minute!” Scarlet said dramatically. “I just realized that Madison has seen that man naked.” She sighed contentedly as if she were imagining it.
I rolled my eyes and turned to Ava. “Can we be serious, though? Now he’s lying to you. He’s lying to protect me, or himself, or whatever but it isn’t cool. I am humiliated. Also I’m ruining your family dynamic. I swear, I will never kiss your cousin again.”
“Are you kidding me? Following your exploits is the funniest thing that’s happened in my family since Aunt Cheryl accidentally set Gran’s hair on fire.”
“How…?” Lizzie murmured.
“You can’t spray hairspray with a cigarette in your hand,” Ava helpfully informed the table. “Anyway, I think you two are a joy together. I don’t want to hear about his cucumber, but by all means, keep banging him.”
“I’m not banging him!” I protested.
“She should not bang him. If it doesn’t work out, she’ll be living with someone who will for all practical purposes be her ex, and that just doesn’t even sound healthy to me,” Scarlet said.
“See?” I said pointedly. Though my insides were leaping around a bit at Ava’s pronouncement. A joy? Well, the kissing was joyful. Before the whole bleeding forehead part, anyway.
“He’s off for a bangcation at the end of the summer no matter what, so I vote go for it.” Lizzie pulled a rattle out of her diaper bag and handed it to Charlotte. Which she promptly heaved into her mother’s coffee. “This is why we can’t have nice things,” Lizzie said with a sigh of frustration before sucking the coffee out of the cloth bits of the toy.
