I foam and foam, coating the shit out of my entire living room until all that’s left is the sound of sizzling, extinguished heat and sloughing fire retardant.
My heart races and sweat falls off every inch of my face as I drop to my knees and take in the damage. The entire back half of my living room is cooked.
Julia, still holding Yoko with one arm, wraps her other arm around my shoulders and squeezes, trying to reassure me. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Ace. You got it out.” A startled laugh bubbles up, but she cuts it off before it can even finish rolling out. “I’m…sorry. I’ll never doubt your urgency again.”
“I…” I take a breath. I mean, the plan to have a reason for moving in with Julia is going strong. The damage, though? A touch more extensive. “Fuck, this isn’t good.”
“How in the hell did this happen?” she asks, her eyes still wide as she scans the charred living room.
It happened because I’m so in love with you that it’s turned me into a moron, Julia.
“I think it’s safe to say I spent too much on fire safety in your apartment and kind of forgot to do the same in mine,” I mutter by way of an excuse. “Julia?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I…stay with you for a bit? I’m pretty sure they’re going to need to do some repairs.”
“Of course,” she agrees easily. “Of course.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “But what are you gonna say to your dad?”
A good question I didn’t consider, and a reason nineteen-year-olds shouldn’t be allowed to fall in love.
“Fire?” my dad barks out in question, his dark eyebrows melding with his hairline in a comedy sketch of expression via Zoom. Julia’s out getting dinner takeout, and I’m mentally recovering by calling my dad from her bed. I guess I should just be thankful my mom is out to dinner with the girls, or I’d be getting the fat end of the stick from both of them at the same time. “You set an actual fire?”
“Yeah!” I snap, horrified and unentertained by this whole trip down memory lane.
“Did the fire department come?”
“Who the hell else puts out fires?” I ask with a groan. “Of course they came. I did have it out with a fire extinguisher, but it reignited, and I didn’t have a choice.”
“Oh, oh Jesus,” Thatcher chokes out, his whole body rolling into a laugh that sends him careening off the couch and onto the rug. “Fire! You set fire to the fucking place!” his voice taunts from the floor, his entire being out of camera shot.
“It’s not that funny,” I complain on a grumble. “It’s embarrassing, and it’s whatever. We can move on now. Well, after you read me the riot act and decide what my punishment will be, I guess.”
“Well, sure, we can move on, but that poor rug will never move on! It’s dead. Burned. Will never live to see another day!” He’s still on the floor, just straight up cackling through his words.
“You’re not that funny, you know,” I mutter. “You’re notdoing stand-up on a fifty-city tour. You can tone it down a little bit and just be supportive.”
“Oh, son, this is support. Support and laughter go hand in hand,” he says and eventually finds his way back to his spot on the couch and in front of the camera. “You don’t think I’ve been laughed at? That the things I did while I was trying to land your mother aren’t worthy of their own set list? They are, buddy. Every motherfucker I know who’s married has one too. Because we men are idiots when we fall hard. Can’t seem to see straight, but I can’t blame us. It’s awful hard to have perfect sight when your head is that far up your own ass.”
I sigh. “I just…normally have more game than this. I don’t know what my deal is.”
“That there is a true sign that you are, indeed, in love.”
“Some good it’s doing me. I’m not getting anywhere, and you’re starting world wars with her father.”
“Relax. Kline and I will be fine. You think we haven’t had some spats over the years? We’ve been friends for a long time, and we’re gonna continue to be friends until we’re dead. The bastard might still be annoyed with me, but the lines of communication are there. We’re texting. Phone chatting. You know, the normal shit but with him sayingshut upandfuck youmost of the time. You just keep up your end of the work with Julia. Though, I suggest you stop starting fires.”
“I wanted to have to stay at her place.” I admit the true intent behind the fire. “So… I thought a fire would help bring that desire to fruition.”
“Ha!” he barks. “A classic move. But next time, son, may I suggest a pest control issue? Or landlord-ordered maintenance. A fake gas leak. There’s a lot to work with here that doesn’t require the same level of theatrics.”
I let out a deep exhale. “Yeah, I guess—” The sound of the door opening cuts me off in mid-sentence. “She’s back. I gotta go,”I whisper. He gives the thumbs-up, but I end the call, way better for the wear than intended.
I thought he’d fucking kill me. And really, he should have. But love is Thatcher Kelly’s weakness. He can’t fight it. Can’t deny it. Can’t belittle it.
If I’d set fire to my apartment for any other reason, he’d have me by the throat. But love? It’s the ultimate excuser of all behaviors in his eyes.
I sure hope when Julia finds out, she’ll feel the same.
