I reach for the base of his neck and he grabs my pincher hand, yanking me on top of him. I hold my head up just an inch above his.
He moves his head to kiss me, catching me midlaugh, and we both taste like red wine even though it’s 11:05a.m.I love the way his hands feel on my back—how I know, no matter how much I squirm around trying to give him the nerve pinch, he won’t let me roll off the couch.
“You’ll regret it if you do the Vulcan nerve pinch and put me back in the coma before I get to make you come at least three times,” he says. I lift my head a little bit. “If we’re at that point. It’s okay if we’re not.”
He sits up, I guess sensing the mood evolving into a conversation rather than an escalation. It’s not that I don’t want to escalate. I just don’tneedto right now. Because I’m enjoying this stage. I like knowing that my feelings are going somewhere, even if there’s a countdown timer ticking away in the background of all of this.
And yes, maybe I’m a little apprehensive about sinking deeper into a relationship that’s destined to be a dead end. Not that I have my own clear path forward.
But also, I’m horny.
“I do want to,” I say. “But we’re in that phase where it’s, like…you discover a song that’s so awesome and you just play it on repeat and you know that you’re gorging on it and you’re getting too sick of it too fast. But you can’t help indulging yourself because it’s so good in that moment.”
“I’m confused.” He narrows his eyes a bit. “Are you planningto gorge on me?” He pats his belly. “Is that why you’re not interested in the lean and muscular version?”
“What I was saying was…I like this. I haven’t done this part in a long time.” I squeeze his hand. “No gorging. I’m saying we should savor.”
“I’m all for savoring,” he says. “I can savor for a very, very long time. We can savor, then at some point in the future—”
“Near future.”
“—near future, I get to make you come, and then I get the nerve pinch and return to my coma. Sounds perfect.”
24
Normally I spend the thirdof July huddled in a closet with Houdini, being his emotional support human during the fireworks. This year, Nick invited me to Red, White & Boom! in Genoa Park with Kira and him, so I put the ThunderShirt calming wrap on Houdini so I can actuallysee—rather than just hear—them this year.
I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to insert myself into this family on a holiday. Aren’t holidays spelled out in custody agreements? Are we communicating something to Kira that’s premature? Overpromising? Leading her to infer a particular kind of relationship?
AmIinferring something that’s not there?
“Neighbors and friends go to local events together,” Nick replies when I ask if he’ssureit’s okay that the three of us do thistogether. “And Nora and I always go to the smaller fireworks with her family in Dublin on the Fourth.”
That nugget of information is probably intended to be reassuring, but it only adds question marks. Or maybe an interrobang.
“I haven’t told Kira anything about us,” Nick says. “So don’t worry about that. Just try not to make out with me.”
This seems right, but it also shifts my brain into overdrive—now I’m wondering when hewilltell Kira about our relationship status. When he’ll tell Kira’s mom.
When I’ll tellmymom.
When Nick, Kira, and I get to the parking garage and Nick’s car, I panic and feign unfamiliarity with the vehicle. I think I even say, “Cool car,” under my breath. It’s incredible how a person who’s so good at deluding herself can also be so bad at petty lies.
I don’t like the visual implication of Nick in the driver’s seat, me in the passenger’s seat, and Kira in the back. Nope, nope.
I call an audible.
“You know what? I don’t want to sit in the passenger seat,” I say.
“No offense,” Nick says. “But I’m not letting you drive.”
“Can I sit in the back with you?” I ask Kira, even though this will turn Nick into our Lyft driver.
She contemplates it for a few seconds, eyeingme.
“If you play DragonWing with me. You can be”—she pauses, surveying the options—“Fire Breath.”
“Great.” I’m not reading into that.I am not reading into that.
