“Um,” I say.
“That was a joke. Obviously. Didn’t you ever do that as a kid?”
“Put my head on a baseball bat and spin around? Absolutely not.”
“Wow! It’s, like, a known kids’ activity.”
“Sure it is,” I say, happy that the power dynamic has shifted and I can be the one questioninghissubpar joke.
“It’s real!” He’s arguing in this very cute way that makes me want to kiss him.
I can’t believe I just had that thought.
MORE PROGRESS.
“All right,” Chord says, putting his cup down on the ground so he can rub his hands together, “now I’m the one feeling those chilly vibes, so I vote we go inside.”
I kinda feel like he’s pretending to be cold because he can see how much I’m shivering, and I both appreciate that and find it annoying. Because I’m scared to go back inside.
“Your vote has been tallied,” I say, “and the official results are in: One hundred percent of the constituents of the backyard have voted YES on the proposal to go into the house.”
“Wooo!” Chord shouts, throwing his hands in the air, with such surprising enthusiasm it makes me flinch. “Democracy in action!”
“Congrats to all of us.”
As we go back through the kitchen, I involuntarily flinch again, worried what I’m going to see, but it’s just Shana and Marigold and a couple of others having a lively conversation by the now demolished snack table. Shana immediately takes my hand and leads the three of us into the family room, which is now blessedly Carterless and way less rowdy. A Harry Styles song comes on, andthis is when I learn there is something Chord can’t do: dance.
He moves his arms up and down, his hands in fists like he’s slowly milking a cow, as he shifts his body side to side way off the beat of the music. It’s definitely a surprise, but, on him, it’s endearing.
“He’s great, right?” Marigold says directly into my ear as we all dance. I’m going to assume she’s talking about him as a human and not as a dancer.
“Yeah!” I say into her ear. “I feel like I made him up.”
“Youshouldfeel him up!” she shouts.
Rather than go through the trouble of correcting her, I give her a thumbs-up, and she giggles.
Chord takes my hand, and we awkwardly move back and forth before he lifts his arm to spin me under it. Supremely charming. And, since he’s a few inches taller than me, it makes me feel kind of short, which never happens, so I don’t care if he’s a good dancer. Because I love this.
(Carter is an inch shorter than me. In case you’re wondering. Five-foot eight to my five-foot nine.)
And then suddenly I have to pee. Very much.
Or maybe I’ve had to for a while but just wasn’t paying attention.
“Be right back,” I say to everyone but mainly Chord. “I must urinate!” Probably didn’t need that extra sentence.
“Well, okay!” Chord says with a grin. “Have fun with that.”
I nod and walk away fast to outrun the embarrassment.
“Does the music sound a little staticky?” I hear Marigold ask behind me. “Like it’s fuzzy or something?”
“Oh Jesus no,” Shana says, “really?”
“Yeah, I might be hearing that too,” Chord says.
“GODDAMMIT.”
