There’s an unspoken energy between us that rivals any metaphorical elephant in the room. We’re both being incredibly awkward and neither of us wants to admit or address it.
I dump the second can of beans into the massive pot before moving to open the third and final can. As I twist the lever, I pretend I don't see Liam struggling with the pepper container. After using his teeth to break the cellophane seal, he's working to pry open the stubborn, flip-top lid.
He grunts, pulls it back to glare at it, and then studies his short and rather filthy-from-all-the-camp-chores nails. "Ow," he breathes with a grimace. “Freaking hurts.”
I smile at him and break away from my task. "You want help?"
He looks at my nails, which are trimmed short as usual but painted with pearl-colored nail polish. "Maybe,” he says. “If you’re not going to break a nail."
I stash the tidbit in a file calledLiam's Ex. Did she have long salon-style nails? Was she the type that kept regular appointments, with the pedicures to go along with them?
"I'm not going to chip a nail," I assure him.
He hands over the quart-size container of pepper, and I give it a whirl, tucking my nails into the flip-top crease of the red plastic. It doesn't budge. In fact, the harder I pull—exactly where I'm supposed to pull, by the way, the more I think my nailswillbreak after all—right out of their nail beds.
"Geez," I say. "Did they seal this up for a bomb shelter?"
The two of us laugh, and a bit of the awkward tension dissipates.
"Seriously.” He cups a hand along the side of his mouth. “Watch out, folks, if we don’t secure those lids well enough, all heck will break loose.”
We chuckle again, and it feels good. Good enough that I’m starting to relax. I can tell he is, too. Laughter, as they say, is social lubricant.
I wonder how Liam is with the other ladies at these events. Are there certain women he flirts with each time? I pictureone woman in particular—Nellie, I think. As I filled up my water bottle at the pump, making light conversation about the obsession over Stanley mugs and how every kid has to have one, she nodded toward Liam’s tent.
“Is that your tent next to Liam Wheaton’s?” she asked.
A dose of discomfort slithered through me. “Yeah, that’s us.”
The pretty blonde leaned in and lifted a brow. “Lucky girl.”
I’m jealous even in the recollection. Lucky why? Had she experienced Liam’s incredible kiss one night? Was she hoping for more of the same? Did she thinkI’dbe the recipient of those kisses merely because I was next to him?
Liam never was the playboy his brother Luke was, but that definitely could have changed.
After a few more failed attempts to flip open the cap with my nails, I readjust my grip. "All right,” I say in a warning tone, "it's time to get serious." I lift the container to my mouth and do something Ross tells every patient to never,everdo. But screw Ross and all of his stupid warnings, rules, and dictates. Newsflash, buddy, I work with teeth, too.
"Uh oh,” I hear Liam say as I wedge my lower front teeth into the crease of the stubborn cap. “She’s not messing around, folks.”
I lower my chin, firm my jaw, and lift up with a quick jerk. A satisfying snap sounds, letting me know I’ve done the job.
I look down, triumph swelling in my chest, half expecting to see the black and white spice peppered (no pun intended) all over my clothes.
But it isn’t. In fact, I realize, with confounded astonishment, that the lid is still closed.
So what was that sound?
Liam gasps. "Oh my gosh, Ashley, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? What do you want me to do?”
His voice is so panicked that I start to panic, though I don't even know what's wrong yet. But then the tip of my tongue gets caught on something jagged. A very rough spot that wasn’t there before. I inspect it further with my tongue and realize with great horror what I’ve done—I did just what Dr Brynn for the Grin said I’d do—I chipped my tooth!
I reach up to feel it with a frantic hand and gasp louder than Liam at my discovery.Bothof my bottom front teeth are chipped. Worse yet, I realize as I further inspect the area with my tongue it seems that each tooth has broken diagonally from the outer edge toward the center. Two small triangles of teeth—gone, leaving an even larger triangular-shaped gap.
Oh, no…I’ll look like a jack-o-lantern!
Frantically, I begin searching for the tooth nubs. "Quick, do you see the chipped parts of my teeth anywhere?”
“Let’s see,” Liam says, joining me in the hunt. “They’ve got to be here somewhere.”
