"You're an asshole."
He kisses my forehead. "You're right."
"And a big bastard."
"I agree."
"I ran out of insults on our list."
As children we made a list of insults with which to address each other when we were angry. We both always had a lot of trouble getting over others' insults, and at the time that list seemed like a smart idea. And it was—because no matter how much Vincent has hurt me over the past few years, his words have never tried to hurt me.
He continues to caress my skin. "You can repeat asshole and bastard. That's fine."
"Do you think they make the point?" I back away a few inches.
I notice the patch of tears and mascara I left on his shirt and try to keep from laughing.
"Yeah, I think they’re enough," he reassures me, opening his backpack.
He pulls out a tissue and hands it to me.
"Thank you."
Before he can answer, I hear footsteps getting closer—and mostly Sam's voice calling me. I turn away from Vincent altogether, sitting cross-legged on the bench with my bag in my lap.
Meanwhile, Sam joins us and winks at Vincent, who rolls his eyes.
Sam sits across from us on the grass. He hands me the vegetarian hot dog I wanted, a plastic bag, and a can oflemonade. I sigh and avoid protesting. I just hoped that this time he would listen to me and avoid paying for me as well.
I slip the bag with Steven's lunch into my purse and bite into the hot dog. Sam hands one to Vincent as well, and he accepts it with a surprised look on his face.
"You can eat it, man. I'll only start spitting over your food when you fall in love with me," Sam reassures him with a grin.
I chew my lunch, amused. I always knew they would get along immediately if they ever met.
They’re opposites and that’s precisely why they’re made for each other.
Sam clears his throat before pouring a sachet of mayonnaise on his hot dog. "I hate to spoil your tearful encounter, but I think I just met the woman of my life and she called me a motherfucker. She looked like a star. She was hotter than Christina Aguilera in 2002."
"Hotter than Christina when she introduced Eminem during the MTV VMAs in 2002? Impossible."
Only Maggie could bethatsexy. I mean, she’s basically Christina’s doppelgänger.
I take a sip of lemonade. "No way."
"I’m serious! She was hot as hell!"
Vincent takes the floor after taking a bite of his hot dog. "Why did she call you a motherfucker?"
Sam shrugs, opening his soda. "Because I told her she's hotter than Christina Aguilera and she called me a motherfucker."
"So you saw a girl and went and told her she's hotter than Christina Aguilera hoping she wouldn't tell you to go fuck yourself?"
"Hey! That would have impressed me," I interject, nudging him.
Vincent gives me a semi-amused look. "Yeah, but you don't count."
"Huh? Why not?"
