Ever so carefully, Felix shifts so his cheek is alongside mine. “Should we—” he begins, the barest whisper against the shell of my ear, only to falter at the rush of water through pipes that must run right past this closet. We stay like that as Bernie’s voice floats toward us from the other end of the apartment, growing louder as she approaches the living room.
There’s a rustling sound, like papers are being sorted. “Now where did I leave that card? Mama can’t turn up empty-handed. Attention to detail matters. We have to show that we know how to do things properly. That’s called class.”
I can’t see Zenobia, but I hope she’s chosen this moment to hoist a leg over her head and give her nether regions a thorough licking.
“How’s my lipstick?” Bernie asks.
Felix tenses, and I’m pretty sure we’re thinking the same thing: Is she looking in the massive mirror next to the front door? The one Claude had specially lit so he could gaze upon his own magnificence before venturing into the world? I’m suddenly grateful I got to teach him the phrase “fit check” before he died.
If thatiswhere she’s standing, she’s probably about to leave. Which means we are almost in the clear. My heart decides this is a good time to beat harder.
“I agree,” Bernie says, as if Zenobia expressed an opinion. “Not too pink and not too orange.”
I feel a flutter against my temple that must be the movement of Felix’s lashes. I’m sure he’s blinking in consternation at the conversation this lady is holding with her brother’s cat, but all I can think isbutterfly kisses.
“Do I look like a businesswoman?” she continues, giving me a few seconds to sternly inform my limbs that there will be no trembling. “Leave it to me. I’m going to close this deal and then we’ll be set for life. We don’t need a man to save us. Mama’s got this. One more little spritz before I go.”
The relief of knowing she’s about to leave is so immense I permit myself the first deep breath I’ve taken since we squeezed into this closet. Only the “little spritz” must have been closer to a gallon of perfume, because I taste chemicals on the back of my tongue. Felix seems to have inhaled some too. We turn our heads at the same time, me burying my face against the front of his shirt while his nose presses into the crook of my neck.
There’s a scratching sound at the closet door. It’s a good thing we’re holding on to each other, because otherwise one or both us would have panic-flailed and brought down a shelf of cleaning supplies.
Zenobia chirrups at us, wanting in or wanting us out. I can’t believe she’s going to blow our cover, after the untold number of treats I’ve snuck her over the years. But Bernie is too focused on her mission to be sidetracked, even by Zenobia.
“Leave it, precious. I’ll bring some Raid up from the kitchenwhen I get back.” I hear the shake of a treat bag before Zenobia takes off like a shot. “It won’t be like this in our new place,” she croons. “Everything will be clean and fresh.”
After a series of loud kissy sounds, the front door closes and locks.
There is a beat of silence, and then another. Slowly it dawns on me that I’m clutching a shirt that isn’t mine, breathing in the scent of an unfamiliar detergent—and underneath that, a hint of Felix.
Probably we shouldn’t move right away. There’s always a chance she forgot something else and will turn around and come back. No sense blowing it this close to the finish line.
The longer we stand like this, the more that feels like an excuse. Maybe we’re doing this because we want to. And if we’re this close already, what’s to stop us from pushing things a little farther? It’s true that I wouldn’t have listed “broom closet” as my top location for a first kiss, but it turns out I’m not opposed.
As the seconds tick by, I start to worry I’ve read the situation wrong. What if Felix is waiting for me to let go of him so he can get out of here? That would be humiliating. As an experiment, I loosen my grip, shifting slightly so I’m not quite pulling away, but the opening is there if he wants it.
Felix hesitates. I feel him inhale before starting to lift his head. Only instead of stepping back and then straightening, his face touches me the whole time, a slow slide of skin along my neck and jaw. All I’d have to do is angle my chin sideways and our mouths would be touching.
If only I knew whether that was something he wanted. Then again, I’m not quite ready for him to stop this thrillingly ticklish contact with my cheek. I need to see how this is going to feel when he reaches my earlobe.
Oh.That wasn’t nearly enough time to appreciate the experience, but I’ve run out of skin. I wish this was a game of Killing Me Softly so I could tell himTake it from the top.
His phone lights up, the glow visible through his pocket. Felix clears his throat, stepping away to check his notifications.
“She’s in the van.”
“Phew. That was a close one.” I’m following his lead, acting like the only noteworthy event in the last ten minutes was almost getting busted by Bernie. Pushing open the door, I suck in air like I’ve been starved for oxygen.
Zenobia stares at me, sitting upright as a statue with her tail curled around her legs.
What?I want to say to her.Nothing happened. These pink cheeks? Pure relief.
She blinks at me in the spare-me-your-BS manner of felines.
Okay, fine. I’m bluffing; it doesn’t feel like nothing to me. Because as he was pulling away, there was a moment when Felix paused with his lips to my skin, at the exact place between my jaw and neck where I can feel my pulse throbbing right now.
Some would call that a kiss, despite there being only one mouth involved.
“I’m glad she can’t talk,” Felix observes from behind me.
