The Loose Ends List(30)
“Real things only. You’ve already impressed me.” He pries the cap off his beer with a bottle opener.
“Let’s see.… I love fashion, it’s kind of my hobby. And my family has an astronomy fetish.”
“That explains my constellation lessons last night. Very handy talent, I might add.”
“You go next. What are your favorite things?”
He unwraps the donut, takes a big bite, and chases it with beer. “Hmm. Okay. Football. I’ve been kicking a ball around since I could walk.” His voice gets animated. “My friends and I played the Jamaican kids on the beach when we were there. They killed us. Anyway, your turn.” He holds the donut up to my mouth and, despite my already-distended stomach, I bite.
“I love to dance. My grandmother taught us all the old dances. I’ll dance pretty much anywhere.”
He laughs. “I’m a pretty good dancer, if I do say so myself. My sister makes fun of me. But for my next thing, I’m going to go with Egypt. The country. The artifacts. It’s all fascinating.”
“Have you been there?”
“Yes. It was amazing. I couldn’t get over the pyramids, how massive they were; and the mummies, real people preserved all those centuries, sharing themselves with us. I’m going there for a study abroad program this year. That’s why I’ve been trying to get all the surfing out of my system.”
“You’re spending a whole year in Egypt? That’s brave of you.”
“Yes, we’ll see. I’m kind of scared of dust storms.” He licks the last of the donut off his fingers. “And I’ll miss surfing. That’s been one good thing about this whole Wishwell life.”
“This is random,” I say, “but I love starfish. I can’t believe nature managed to create a living thing shaped like a star. And even when they die, they stay perfectly intact.”
He looks at me funny. I’m wondering if the starfish thing is making him think I’m a huge loser. But he brushes the hair away from my face and looks at me with those eyes.
I lean toward him, and we kiss. It tastes like chocolate donut. He pulls me over to his chair and then on top of him. I press into him, and my body wants me to press harder. He’s intense and gentle all at the same time. He pulls at my shirt, and I stop his hand.
“Not yet. Not yet.” I have to say it twice to believe it myself.
“Okay. Sorry.” I get up and sit on the edge of the chair. “I am obviously incredibly attracted to you,” he says apologetically.
“Me too. It’s just—I better go. To be continued?”
“Will you come back tomorrow?” he says as he turns on his side and lays his hand on my back.
“Yes. Assuming I can get away from the planned events. At this point, my annoying family knows you’re here, and they’re bugging me to bring you around.”
“I know. I’ve already had a dozen texts from your grandmother inviting me to dinner. I’d forgotten how much the Wishwell intensifies family closeness.”
“Have you done this? I mean, before?”
“Kissed a patient’s family member?” He shakes his head. “No. This is a first. But I’ve hung out with a lot of families. When I saw you at the bar, I didn’t think, ‘This is a stunning girl, but I should leave her alone due to her fragile family situation.’ I thought, ‘Hot girl, go find on ship.’”
“So you talk to yourself in caveman language?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. How about tomorrow caveman and hot girl have proper date?”
I laugh. “I know just the place to take you. But you need to come to dinner after. For my relentless grandmother.”
“Deal. And you need to kiss me one more time. ‘Hot girl, kiss now,’ says the caveman.”
I do as he says.
It’s two in the morning, and Janie’s not here. I’m sure she’s topless and slobbering all over Dr. Do Me in some starlit deck corner. I shower and snuggle under my cozy comforter, tired and happy. I’m drifting, drifting, thinking about Enzo, and then a text comes in. The bee’s going crazy. OMG. Do Me is in the bathroom. We’ve been fooling around for hours. His penis is minuscule. I don’t want to have sex with this pickle thing. HELP! What do I do?
Come back to the room, stupid. Tell him you’re not that kind of girl and you need to leave.
Okay.
I guess college doesn’t teach people how to get out of a pickle.
TEN
“OKAY, I HAVE one thing on the con list and seven on the pro.” We’ve been lying in bed talking about Do Me, now nicknamed Pickle, for two hours.
I read the list. “The pros are: doctor, really cute, funny, nice, caring, smart, and likes our family.”
“I know,” Janie says, “those are all good qualities. I get it.”
“The con is the pickle. Janie, think. Is it a breakfast sausage link?”
“No, not really.”
“A crayon?”
“No, Maddie. It’s exactly the size and shape of one of those gherkin pickles. It’s awful.”
“He’s a doctor, right? Maybe he’ll find creative ways to use it.”
“I don’t care if he’s a gynecologist with a PhD in sex ed. There’s nothing to work with. God, why do I care? Why? Why? Why?” Janie buries her head in a pillow.