Blind Kiss(22)

I started laughing but his frown didn’t crack. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“She ruined me. I mean, really broke my heart. I have no idea why she did it; she just said we were too young.”

“How old were you?” I took a sip of beer.

“Twelve,” he deadpanned.

Beer literally came out of my nose. “What?”

“I told you, it was my twenty-first birthday. Don’t you listen?” He handed me a napkin. I wasn’t even remotely embarrassed for some reason. He went on, “She graduated and wanted to move to Denver. She’s a writer . . . so she’s totally whack. She got an English lit degree and wanted to be a performance artist in the city. She’ll probably write about how she broke my heart. Then she’ll reenact it onstage dressed as a fucking grasshopper or something.”

“I still don’t get the whole do-rag thing.”

“That was just Carissa. Everything had to be for the sake of something else. I’m telling you, she’ll write a book about it. This extremely feminine and beautiful girl shows up to her boyfriend’s birthday dinner to break up with him while she’s wearing a dirty wife-beater, paint-splattered overalls, and a do-rag. She just wants to be able to tell the story over and over again with all the embellishments, you know? And, like, who the fuck does that?”

“And you liked this girl?”

“I loved her. The only one so far.”

Maybe Gavin didn’t have the best taste in women, which had me wondering what he thought of me. I needed to be responsible. I was not his type.

“I hate that Ouija board game, just FYI.”

His eyes shot open. “Where’d that come from?”

“You mentioned it earlier. See, I do listen.” He stuck his tongue out at me. “I think you might have me pegged wrong. I’m not this dark, interesting person. I basically have no hobbies, and even fewer friends—which is why I have to leave soon to get ready for Ling’s party; it’s already six, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“But you haven’t told me enough about yourself to even peg you. That whole Ouija board thing was just about your look. Anyway, I can drive you home and then to Ling’s, if you want? You probably shouldn’t drive anyway. And aren’t you starving? I’m starving. Let’s grab a quick bite.”

He was a fast talker, but not in a bad way. I loved that about him. I wanted to spend more time with him, but I didn’t do well eating around other people. “I don’t know . . .” I said.

“I know a burger place—”

“I don’t eat meat.”

“Are you a vegetarian?”

“No, I actually just don’t eat red meat,” I told him. My plan was not working. I needed to give in and just go with it or else I wasn’t going to have enough time to get ready for Ling’s party.

“Pizza?” he asked.

“Okay.”

On the way to the local pizza joint, San Filippo’s, he said, “So tell me about all your exes.”

I laughed. “That’s a short story. I’ve never really had a long-term boyfriend. I’ve just dated here and there. Anyway, like I told you, I’m not dating this year. It’s just too intense with dance and finals and everything.”

“You did mention that . . . like, five times. But here we are, Penny. Getting a drink and pizza . . . and now I’m gonna meet your parents in a few. I would call this a date.”

If I brought Gavin home to my parents, they would literally have me committed. He’d tattooed our phone number onto the palm of his hand! That would be enough to put them off, never mind his other random tattoos and the fact that he was basically sex on two legs. I guess my parents didn’t have to know that we met by sucking face blindfolded, though.

Once inside San Filippo’s, I ordered another beer and a slice of cheese pizza. I never ate like this, but I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by not eating. Gavin had a Coke. I guess he was committed to being my designated driver, but I didn’t want him to go to the party with me. Already, we had taken the day too far. Or at least I had let my imagination take it too far.

He was currently rambling on and on about something, but I wasn’t listening because I was fixated on the flexing muscles of his forearms. I imagined how they moved when he played the guitar . . . and did other things.

I remember having the conversation with my dad when I hit puberty. Naturally, my mom avoided the topic because she wanted me and Kiki to be her dollies forever. But my dad wouldn’t have his eldest daughter walking around with her head up her ass.

He sat me down and proceeded to drone on about periods and reproductive organs like he was giving a goddamn lecture at the university. It was all things I had learned in sex ed at school, but I appreciated the effort. It can’t be an easy conversation for a father to have with his daughter. But one thing I do remember vividly is that when the topic of sex came up, he stopped talking about chromosomes and things you’d expect from a biologist and started talking about responsibility, love, and keeping my guard up against the kind of relationships that can be exciting and explosive at first. He said those relationships always fizzle out too soon, and that’s why you have to use your brain when your body is sending you such loud messages. I understood exactly what he meant.