Page 23 of When the Smoke Clears

“Do you want a beer?” she asked, stepping into the dark room.

“Everleigh,” I whispered in her ear, standing behind her while my right hand slid up the front of her shirt and under her bra.

She drew in a sharp inhale that did things to me.

“I want to take off your clothes and bury my face between your beautiful legs,” I whispered.

“Cunnilingus?” She flipped a switch that turned on a standing lamp beside a sage green upholstered sofa with floral decor pillows. Plants filled every corner of the apartment, and some hung from macramé holders.

“What?” I stepped in front of her and curled her hair behind her ears, narrowing my eyes. Surely I heard her wrong.

She wrinkled her nose. “Um, the medical term is cunnilingus. Well”—she averted her gaze and blushed—“on a female. On a male, it’s fellatio.”

I laughed, dropping my hands to my sides as I bowed my head. “This is what I get for trying to seduce a medical student. I think I’ll take that beer after all.”

“Yeah?” She seemed excited that I opted for the beer.

Digging my teeth into my lower lip to control my grin, I nodded.

“I love Lego Star Wars, but my uh . . . roommate’s boyfriend plays Call of Duty, so if you want, we can play it. I’m not that good, though.” She handed me a can of beer.

“Well, maybe I can teach you,” I said, opening the can. “Where is your roommate?”

“London.” She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. “But if my mom finds out, she’ll be livid.”

“Why?” I squinted before drinking the beer.

The apartment held a spice and wood scent with a hint of smoke, like she or her roommate burned incense.

“Uh, well, my mom is really protective.” Everleigh shrugged.

“You’re a grown woman.”

“I don’t think moms ever stop worrying about their kids.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Here. Let me see if the controllers are charged.” She stepped past me to dig them out of the basket under the coffee table.

“Have you been in a lot of weddings?” I asked, sitting on the lumpy sofa. The window air conditioner hummed behind it.

“No. This is my first time being a bridesmaid, and I’m really excited.” She handed me the controller and turned on the TV. “Is it your first time being a groomsman?”

“Nah. I’ve done it at least half a dozen other times.”

“Really?” She sat next to me and expertly worked the remote to bring up Call of Duty. “What are you going to do when you get married? You’ll have to reciprocate and have a dozen or more groomsmen.”

I chuckled. “I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it.”

She zoned into the game, even while I continued to look at her and the way she gnawed on her lower lip while focusing on the screen. After a few seconds, she gave me a quick sideways glance.

“What?” She narrowed her eyes for a second before refocusing on the screen.

“Nothing.” I grinned.

We played Xbox until three in the morning. While I finished a game by myself, she drifted off to sleep beside me on the sofa.

“I should leave,” I said, turning it off.