Pink Fucking Moscato

by Anna Rezes

  The air conditioning came on, blasting us with hot air as she started the car. “I just like my things a certain way,” she said, “I like to keep things organized.”

  “You like control.”

  She turned with a scowl.

  “Am I wrong?” I asked, attempting to hide my smile.

  She pursed her lips, thinking for a moment before answering, “There is so much we can’t control.”

  I grinned. “Is that an admission?”

  “That’s a fact. Control in itself is an illusion. All we can do is decide how we deal with what we’re dealt. I’m not so self-involved as to think I am the center of the universe. There are a million things bigger than me. An asteroid could kill me, or I might get mauled by a rabid squirrel. A bridge could fall on me, or I might get struck by lightning. I can’t really prevent a cancer diagnosis or some other horrible disease. There are too many things we can’t control, so yeah, I like things neat, and I get to make that decision.”

  As she backed out of her parking space, I said, “I understand what you’re saying, but I feel like if you’re making a point, you should’ve gone bigger than a squirrel. If you’re going to be mauled, at least make it a bear, or wolf, maybe a mountain lion.”

  She drove out of the parking lot, saying, “But those things are already scary. You would know to look out for a bear, wolf, or mountain lion. I mean they make a bear spray to deter bears. I’ve never seen squirrel spray because squirrels are cute with their fluffy tails and spunky antics. No one would expect to get mauled by a squirrel, but they’re technically rodents. They have teeth and claws, and if one bit someone just right, a squirrel could potentially kill someone.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  She shrugs. “People die from absurd things all the time. I just read about a rooster killing a woman.”

  I watched her for a while, trying to figure her out. How much thought had she put into this? Those movie star shades hid her eyes, and I couldn’t get a read on her, so I said, “You have to admit, it’d be a unique way to go. You’d definitely make the news.”

  I watched her struggle to suppress her smile, but her dimples gave her away. She shook her head. “Are you always so positive?”

  “You know I’m not,” I said, “I believe you’ve seen me at my worst.”

  Her head spun toward me, her smile gone. “Oliver? You can’t be serious? Are you telling me the Oliver from last night is your worst?”

  Her look and tone made me nervous to answer. The way she said it was like an accusation. Like my pain and anger weren’t enough. “Is my worst not good enough for you?” I said.

  Her eyes went back to the road, and she shook her head. “No, no, not at all. I just . . . I don’t. . . I guess my worst looked a lot different from yours,” she said, almost sounding bashful.

  “You’ve made the whole thing a lot more bearable, Willa.”

  “If I had met you right after Evan and I first split, I . . . I don’t think . . . It wouldn’t have been a good thing. You’re handling all of this a lot better than I did.”

  “Our situations aren’t the same.”

  “And you’re a better person than I am,” she said like it was a fact.

  “I’m weak,” I admit. “I ran away, and she didn’t even know to cancel the wedding.”

  “She didn’t want to let you go. I can’t blame her.”

  “Did you ever cheat on your husband?” I blurt.

  “No,” she said right away. “But . . . I wasn’t always emotionally available to him.” She swung a left, and I started laughing when I realized where she was taking us.

  She parked beside the ice-cream shop. “What?” she said with a smile. “Where did you think I was taking us? I’m still in my bathing suit and cover up.”

  We exited the car, and as she rounded the back, I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. “Addison would never consider ice cream a meal.”

  Her arm went around my back. “I think they have food here too.”

  “Yes, fried food,” I said, practically salivating.

  “Have you been depriving yourself of fried food and ice cream?”

  “Addison is a bit of a health nut.”

  “And because she’s a health nut, you can’t have the food you want?”

  “Last year she went vegan, and I’ve tried to support her decision. She doesn’t allow junk food in the house, and when we eat together, I try to be sensitive to her diet, so I’m not going to eat a greasy cheeseburger in front of her.”

  Her hand patted my abdomen, and she said, “So you have Addison to thank for your six-pack.”

  I smirked as her hand lingered on my abs. I arched an eyebrow as she bit her lip. Then she caught my look and dropped her hand.

  “Addison has nothing to do with it,” I clarified, “I work out every day.”

  She groaned, “Are you a gym junkie?”

  “You have something against gym junkie?”

  “Evan met Estelle at the gym. I’m a little biased.”

  “Oh, the mistress has a name. Estelle. Is she ninety?”

  “Nope, she’s twenty-five and gorgeous.”

  Anger sparks through me, and I stop, spinning her toward me. “Willa, you are gorgeous. I don’t know what this ninety-year-old, Estella looks like, but I know Evan is a damn moron for letting you go. And he’s an asshole for making you doubt yourself.”

  “You don’t have to say those things, Oliver. I’m okay. Evan did me a favor by sleeping with Estelle. It hurt. It still hurts, but I was never going to be enough for him.”

  I lifted her sunglasses so I could see her face. “You are enough, though. You know that, right?”

  She stared at me, her intense brown eyes glistening. “I don’t need you to affirm my value, Oliver. I may seem defeated and bitter, but I am a strong woman, and I know my self-worth.”

  I nodded, accepting her answer, before grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the door. As we approached the counter, I said, “For what it’s worth, I’m not a gym rat. I work out at home.”

  Her lips curled into a pleased smile as she stared up at the menu.

  Willa

  Our ice cream was melting from the heat of the day as we sat at a picnic table behind the ice cream shop. Oliver ordered a banana split. It was turning into soup, but at least he had a spoon, and his dignity remained intact while my hands were sticky with chocolate that was dripping from my overstuffed ice-cream cone.

  Oliver laughed at me as I licked furiously at my ice-cream.

  We were playing twenty questions, and it was his turn. He asked, “Have you ever been sky-diving?”

  “Once. When I was in college. I didn’t enjoy it. It made me feel queasy, and I was too paranoid the parachute wouldn’t open. Have you?”

  “No, but I think it’d be fun. Did you play any sports?”

  “I tried a few different sports when I was young, but I wasn’t coordinated or disciplined, so nothing stuck. You?”

  “I played football and baseball through high school, but I wasn’t good enough to go any further. During college, I learned to surf. I really liked it, but we moved away from the ocean, and so I gave up surfing and took up swimming instead.”

  “Do you want to move back to the beach?” I said before licking the dripping ice-cream off my hand.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know if I’d be any good at surfing anymore. I miss the water, but I think I would enjoy a lake or river just as much as the ocean. What about you? If you could move anywhere, where would you go?”

  “Wherever my people are.”

  “Okay, but if you could bring those people with you anywhere, where would it be?”

  “Umm, I have no idea. Maybe Hawaii if everything wasn’t so expensive. I want their weather and scenery, but I want the convenience that you can’t find on an island. Also, I think I’d miss the seasons. So, I really don’t know.”

  He smiled, asking, “If you could have any superpower, what would you choose?”

&nb
sp; “Super-speed,” I said immediately.

  “Wow, you didn’t even have to think about it.”

  “I’ve already thought it through, but before I explain myself, what would you choose?”

  “I’d want to fly.”

  I shook my head. “I knew you were going to say that.”

  “What’s wrong with flying?”

  “Nothing, except you wouldn’t really be able to do it anywhere. It’s pretty conspicuous. With super-speed, I would be too fast for people to track. I’d get so much done. I’d be able to travel anywhere. I’d have crazy metabolism and eat whatever I wanted. I’d be able to stop bullets, save lives, or shoplift whatever I wanted.” I licked the ice cream dripping down my wrist.

  “You know it’s hard to take you seriously when you’re licking your arm.”

  “I’m just trying to make you feel better about your terrible superpower choice. At least you chose your dessert wisely.” I smiled, lifting the cone to see where it was dripping.

  “I think it’s leaking from the bottom.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Awesome.” I moved the napkins I had wrapped around the waffle cone, and sure enough, a steady drip was coming from the bottom. I held it out, leaning forward, letting the chocolate drip on the ground as I bent over to bite into the cone.

  The table shook, and I looked up to find Oliver’s body shaking from his silent laughter.

  “I never said I was dignified.”

  “Oh, I knew that as soon as I saw your Wannabe dance routine. It’s refreshing.”

  I snickered, “You mean Addison wouldn’t do this?” I was aware as I bit into the waffle cone that I would have ice cream on my face. “Judge me all you want,” I said with a full mouth. “It’s too good to waste.”

  I swallowed, wiping my mouth with the back of my free hand. I needed a shower at that point, anyway. “At least you know I’m not trying to impress you.”

  “Do you want some of my napkins?”

  “That’s like offering a Band-Aid to an amputee. It’s beyond napkins. Do you want a bite?” I offered moving it toward him.

  “Whoa!” He slid back, out of my reach, taking his banana split with him. “I’ve got my own messy treat.”

  “I’ll show you messy,” I threatened, getting out of my seat to round the table. He stood, backing away as I came forward.

  “There’s no need for hostility,” he said, laughing.

  “Just one bite,” I said, licking my arm as seductively as I could manage.

  It seemed to work because his smile dimmed, and he stopped retreating. He set his treat on the empty table behind him and reached out for my cone. He moved it toward his mouth, but instead of taking a bite, he licked from my wrist up to my elbow, spreading goosebumps despite the heat.

  His blue eyes lifted to mine and with a sexy grin, he said, “Sweet and salty.”

  His voice and those words made me clench my thighs together, and I made a mental note not to bite my lip. He was still grinning, knowing exactly what he was doing to me. I dropped the remainder of my cone, and I placed my sticky palm against the stubble of his jaw, smiling as I smeared chocolate ice-cream down his face.

  His eyes went round, and his mouth parted with shock. I moved into him until he was leaning against the table behind him. I reached around him to dip my finger into his banana split. I lifted it, pressing it against his parted lips. He took my finger in his mouth and grabbed my wrist so I couldn’t pull away. He took his time, and I stood there, wanting to jump him.

  “Willa . . . ” his voice was enticing me.

  My eyes locked on his lips, so I didn’t see his hand go behind his back, but I watched helplessly as he lifted it to smear a clump of melted ice-cream and pineapple chunks across my face.

  I gasped, and he laughed.

  Snapping out of my shock, I said, “Oh, it’s on!” I spun around to grab the blue raspberry slushy from our table, but before I could grab it, I felt liquid—sticky and cold—dripping down my scalp to my back. I squealed, arching my spine as it descended, slithering all the way down between my butt crack.

  I twisted, throwing the entire blue slushy at him.

  “Hey!” He jumped back, but the blue drink hit him in the chest, instantly soaking through his t-shirt.

  I laughed at the look on his face as he peered down at himself. He lifted his head slowly, before darting forward to grab the squeeze bottle of ketchup sitting in the middle of the table. He squeezed it, squirting a red stream across my white cover-up.

  “That might stain!” I squealed.

  “Then we better make it even.” He squirted me again, making another diagonal line across my chest.

  As soon as I slid out of my shock, I grabbed the mustard and took my revenge out on his stupid pink shorts.

  To get away, he ducked behind a family sitting at one of the tables. The adults didn’t seem amused by our behavior, but their kids looked excited by the chaos. I raced around the table, feeling like I was six years old chasing after the boy I liked on the playground.

  He ran away from the scolding adults leaving a stream of ketchup aimed at me over his shoulder. I cornered him against the fence. His bottle was nearly empty, making a sputtering-farting sound as only a tiny bit of ketchup came splattering out.

  I held the mustard out, threatening to destroy him when a shout came from the ice cream shop. The manager looked pissed as he stalked toward us like we were disobedient kids.

  “You’re making a mess, and you’re attracting all the bugs!” The man yelled, red-faced.

  Oliver stood up straight, sobering, while I looked back over the picnic area. The parents looked justified.

  “Sir,” I spoke, “Leroy,” I said, spotting his name tag. “We may have gotten carried away. Do you have a hose? We’ll be happy to clean it up.”

  “And pay for the condiments,” Oliver added.

  His offer made me want to laugh. Here we were acting like children, but the second we got caught, we revert back to grownup behavior. It was absurd, and I don’t know how Oliver wasn’t laughing. I had to bite my lip. This shouldn’t be funny, but we both looked ridiculous, him with his yellow streaked cloths and chunks of blue slushy dripping from him, and me with ice cream dripping between my butt cheeks and the red splatter covering my white top. The overpowering smell of ketchup made me slightly nauseous.

  I pulled myself together and stepped forward, saying, “I’m a teacher, and he’s a realtor. We really aren’t irresponsible, just got caught up in the moment.”

  The guy seemed confused by our offer. “Fine, the hose is over there.” He pointed to the back of the building and began walking that way. “Don’t make me regret this. I will call the cops.”

  “There will be no need,” Oliver said as we followed him.

  “You guys might want to get cleaned up too,” Leroy said, eyeing our stained clothes and sticky hair.

  Oliver took the hose, and as soon as the manager went back inside, he turned it on me, threatening, “Say hello to my little friend.”

  I gasped as the blast of freezing water hit me in the stomach. “Oliver!”

  He let go of the nozzle, saying, “I’m just giving you the shower you were talking about.”

  “It’s so cold,” I said, teeth chattering.

  He stepped forward, offering, “Here, I’ll be gentle.”

  He held the nozzle out and turned it on, letting me step into the blast this time. I got used to the chill as he helped me clean off.

  He turned the hose on himself next, washing his face and spraying the blue and yellow stains all over his pastel clothes.

  “Too bad, those shorts aren’t see-through.”

  The water only made the light pink shorts darker. It wasn’t fair. My sheer white tunic clung to me, looking as if I wasn’t wearing anything but the black bikini beneath.

  Oliver handed me the hose, saying, “You need to get your face.”

  “Is it really that bad?” I asked.

  He looked thoughtful for
a moment before reaching forward to swipe his thumb over my lower lip. His hand lingered there, his thumb pressing against my bottom lip. His eyes were on my mouth, and his lips parted. I was tempted to shove him against the wall and have my way with him, but we had already been irresponsible enough for one afternoon.

  There were so many reasons being with Oliver was a bad idea, and the family at the table across the way was supposed to deter us from acting impulsive.

  He seemed to snap out of it, pulling his hand away, while I stood there with dirty thoughts racing through my head. He took the hose from me since I didn’t seem capable of functioning. He sprayed my hair, and the icy water dripped down my face snapping me out of my thoughts. His free hand wiped away the ice cream smudges, and despite the freezing water, the cold shower did little to cool me while his hands were touching me.

  I hadn’t felt this crazed since high school, and even then, I never felt this strongly about someone. I took the hose from him and continued to wash myself off before busying myself with hosing off the rest of the area. Eventually, Oliver took over, giving me the opportunity to ring out my bathing suit cover-up.

  While he wound the hose back up, returning it to its spot on the back of the building, I sprawled out on the bench of the sun-soaked picnic table, hoping to dry off. Oliver went to pay the manager for “damages.”

  When he returned, sitting on the bench opposite me, I asked, “Boxers or briefs?” I’d been wondering ever since his shorts got wet, surprised I couldn’t tell.

  “Usually boxer briefs, but today I’m going commando.”

  I sat up, “Oliver, what if your shorts were see-through?”

  “Then I guess you’d see my goods, and no one else would notice because they are all too busy checking you out.”

  “Oliver—”

  “Ketchup or mustard?” he interrupted, “What’s your go-to topping?”

  “What do you think?”

  He tilted his head, looking at me with pursed lips. “Knowing you it’s probably something crazy like grape jelly on hotdogs.”