“Please don’t.” I have my forehead against her shoulder and I cannot look at her. “Please don’t make fun of me right now.”
She’s shaking, and for a second I think she’s about to cry, and then I realize she’s laughing. “Zach, I’m not making fun of you, I just also—that was so fast—I didn’t know that could happen from?—”
“Me either.” My face is on fire. “I’m usually—I have more control than that. In theory. I’ve never tested the theory but in theory?—”
“Wait.” She pulls back just enough to look down at me. “Zach. Am I your first?”
“No! I’ve—no. I just.” I close my eyes. “I’ve never reacted like that to anyone before. I don’t know what that was.”
“It was hot,” she says, with a certainty that does not match the current state of my underwear.
“It was mortifying.”
“It was hot AND mortifying.” She runs her fingers through my hair. “Should I be worried about getting pregnant or?—”
It takes me a full two seconds and a minor heart attack to realize she’s joking. “Mackie. I’m wearing jeans.”
“I know. I’m kidding.” She’s completely delighted with herself. “Although for the record, I’m on birth control, so even if your jeans weren’t involved, you’d be fine.”
“Great. That’s. Good to know.” I’m storing that information in a very specific place in my brain and trying very hard not to think about the implications of it right now. “Can we talk about literally anything else.”
“We can talk about how you came in your pants at a mini golf course.”
“Something ELSE.”
She’s laughing so hard she can barely breathe, her forehead against my shoulder, and I’m sitting in the wreckage of whateverdignity I have left and I should be humiliated, I should want to crawl into the backseat and disappear, but she’s laughing with her whole body pressed against mine and I’m starting to laugh too because the situation is insane.
“The windows are totally fogged,” she says, wiping her eyes.
“Please stop.”
She lifts her head and cups my face and looks at me and she stops laughing. “Hey. That was really good. Weird and fast and unexpected but really, really good.”
“Next time though, maybe not in a car.” Oh fuck. Now I’m the type of guy who just assumes there’s going to be a next time. “I mean, if you?—”
“Zach.” She’s blinking at me like I’m the dumbest person she’s ever met. “I definitely want there to be a next time.”
“Okay. Good.”
“But I’m holding you to that.” She presses a quick kiss to my mouth.
“Deal.”
We sit for a few more minutes while the windows slowly clear. Her hand finds mine on her thigh and she laces our fingers together.
When I finally pull out of the parking lot she’s still smiling.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” I say. “On a road trip to Dallas and St. Louis. Four days.”
Her nose scrunches up in displeasure.
“I’ll miss you,” she says.
“Really?”
“Obviously.” She says it like I’m being stupid. “You think I let just anyone see me cheat at mini golf?”
I almost smile at that. “I’ll text you. From the road. If that’s okay.”
