Aulie shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Recklessly, with no regard for other people’s safety?”
Note to self: never use the term sweetheart again.
“Shit! Dessy, did I do something last night, or are you just this grumpy in the morning?”
She pulls on her seatbelt, loosening its hold on her neck and chest. “Nothing happened. Just grumpy, I guess.” The lack of conviction in her voice tells me everything her answer didn’t.
Somethinghappened.
“Care to fill me in on what I missed, anyway?” I ask softly. Something I did last night put us off-balance, and until I know what I can’t set us right.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” she asks.
I scrub a hand over my cheek, scratching at my facial hair and thinking. Images of nuzzling into Aulie’s neck and calling her “kitten” come to mind. I try not to grimace—I wasn’t on a good trajectory if those are my last memories.
“I remember eating an excellent batch of poutine, and that’s where it ends.” That’s a lie, I remember wiping some gravy off of Aulie’s cheek with a weird sexually charged energy. I was so fucking gone for her, I just wanted to taste something that was so close to the skin and lips I was truly hungry for.
“Gotcha. Well, let’s see—” She taps her chin with her finger. “You missed the alien abduction. It turns out Tyler isn’t from Planet Earth, and his family came to bring him home.”
“You know, I vaguely remember the spaceship. Looked like a giant penis, right?”
“Exactly. And then, the first period happened. Peter didn’t anticipate a pass, and you were upset.”
“Yup, that tracks.”
“And then the first intermission.”
“Usually follows the first period. So, good.”
“And the second period…”
“Dessy, I know the flow of a hockey game—that’s not what I’m asking you.”
“What are you asking me, then?”
I run my hand through my hair. “I want to know if there’s a reason you’re suddenly the embodiment of a grumpy, awkward turtle around me.”
“What? That’s not a thing.” She forces a laugh.
“Hear that laugh? That’s not the laugh you usually give me, Aulie. I need to know whatever I did because I don’t like this—whatever this is between us.”
She tugs at the tips of her fingers. “I suppose there may be some residual awkward tension leftover from the kiss,” she says, glancing out the window.
It takes every ounce of my energy not to swerve off the road. Pulling over and collecting myself might not be a terrible idea because my brain is sputtering, and I don’t know if operating heavy machinery in this condition is advisable.
“Between us?” I ask.
“No, between you and Andrew, the bartender. It came as quite a shock—”
“Aulie—” I grit my teeth. I don’t care if I’m, as Elizabeth Bennet called Mr. Darcy last night, a “humorless poppycock”—I can’t just cross into teasing mode. If we kissed, there’s no way I withheld how I felt about her. And now she’s uncomfortable.
“Yes, between us. But it was just for practice for the fair. I didn’t notice you were drunk until you threw up immediately after. Jack, honest, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have done that with you if I’d known. I get that you—that we—” She sighs. “I get where you stand on the matter. I promise not to let it ruin our friendship.”
I wince. Vomiting immediately after our first kiss isn’t exactly the storybook ending I’ve envisioned over the past few years. In a perfect world, I would have been sober and given Aulie the kiss she deserves. One that shattered her senses and left her wanting more. Instead, I’m lucky this woman is talking to me this morning. But because I’m a masochist, I can’t help but ask, “Was the kiss good, at least? I mean, for the fair?”
“Well—” she starts, staring straight ahead, “I mean, if I’m being honest, it felt a bit like kissing a family member, you know? Since we’re so close. But it’ll have to do.”
“Right.” I grip the steering wheel. “Well, I’m glad it’ll do. I wouldn’t want to ruin the fair over something so insignificant as a kiss.”
