Screwmates(14)

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.





Five





“...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.