“I saw this girl talk about it on Tik Tok. How the perfect shade of lip would match your nipple. That not true?”
“Why are you watching makeup tutorials on Tik Tok?”
“I don’t search them out. They just pop up. The girl had a Boston accent. I think her name was Mikayla. Really fucking entertaining that I watched a few of her Tik Toks. No shame. She’s actually really inspirational. Lives her life the way she wants. And hey, now you know to match your lipstick to your nipples. You’re welcome.” He then holds his arms out and walks in a straight line, holding steady the whole time.
“You know this doesn’t count, right?” I ask. “You’re not wearing the bra correctly.”
“Uh, because it’s not big enough.”
I shrug. “Not my problem.”
“Then what the hell is this? What am I doing?”
“You tell me, you’re the one who whipped the bra on.”
“Ridiculous,” he says as he takes it off and then sling-shots it right at my face.
The fabric slaps me across the cheek, and I gasp in shock. “Oh my God, you could have taken my eye out.”
“Dramatic much?”
“I bet I have a red mark.” I grip my cheek and play it up.
“Death by bra, that’s a first.”
“Uh, excuse me, sir. I have no doubt in my mind that many a woman have met their creator because of a poorly manufactured brassiere, most likely designed by a man who has zero concept of the kind of damage a destructive underwire can have on an unsuspecting soul.”
“You do realize a bra is a choice, right?” His smirk tells me he’s only teasing, but that doesn’t stop me.
“Oh sure, right, a bra is a choice, so if I started walking around with my tits out, you think I won’t have complaints about erect nipples or showing too much?”
He sticks his hands in the pockets of his athletic shorts and says, “No complaints here.”
“Ugh, pervert.” I walk over to the kitchen and grab another cider for us both.
“You can’t be serious. This might make me puke.”
“Or sleepy. I prefer the sleepy.” I crack both open and hand him one. We cheers and then take a seat on the couch, our shoulders pressed together as we stare at the TV in front of us.
After a sip, I say, “You know, there’s no one else I would want to spend my time with after I called off a wedding and broke up with my fiancé other than you.” I rest my head against his shoulder.
“Same, Lia.”
We both take a drink.
“When you first saw me in the hallway of your dorm, did you ever think this is where we would end up? Neighbors, best friends, attached at the hip?”
“Uh . . . not at that moment, but after that night, I had a good inkling.”
“How so?”
“We just matched. Like when everyone left Scrabble that night, and we were alone, I felt like my missing puzzle piece was put into place.”
“I felt the same way.” We both lift our drinks to our mouth and take long pulls. “I would be lost without you, Breaker.”
“I would be lost without you, too.”
“Doesn’t seem like it,” I say, my mind turning morose. “You have so much going for you. Your business, you have a strong family bond and sisters-in-law who are so much fun. You have promise, a community surrounding you, and so much opportunity.”
