“I’m glad to hear that. And get the blueberry.”
So, I do. And it’s freaking outstanding, with bits of fresh berries swirled through the creamy blue ice cream. We sit under an umbrella at a small table, with our giant cones, and I can’t resist checking his comments again. It’s daunting. Then I stumble on more than one that makes me sit bolt upright.
Esben frowns. “What is it? God, did some jackass say something stupid? I’ll block or ban or delete him. I don’t put up with that stuff. Thank God it doesn’t happen often.”
“Um, no, actually. But you know how sometimes people comment on one thing but they’re talking about another?”
“Yeah...I hate those. Like, I could put up a post of a chicken, and some dude will be all, ‘Chickens are fine, but I once had a ferret who liked wearing knit hats,’ and then forty-five people pipe in with their own ferret stories—”
“Esben.” I wish I had a pair of sunglasses to hide behind. “It seems that people are still wondering what happened with us.”
“Ahhh. Yes. That’s been going on all week.” He leans back. “Do you want to answer them?”
“Answer them? What do you mean?”
“You’re not on Twitter or Facebook or anything, right?” he asks.
I shake my head, and he thinks for a minute.
“I could introduce you.” His smile takes over.
“What do you mean?” It turns out that neither of us like eating the cone, so I take both and toss them. “How?”
“Come here.” He scoots back his chair and pats his lap. “Sit.”
I go to him and sit with my legs crossing his and my arm draped over his back. “Yes?”
“First,” he says slowly, “first, though, there should be this.”
For the second time today, he kisses me on the mouth. This one, though, lasts for way more than a few heartbeats. His mouth is cold, and he tastes like fresh blueberries, but the kiss is definitely hot. How anyone can be so sweet and tender, and also make me want to rip off his shirt right here at this ice-cream place, is beyond me. He’s ignited my virtually forgotten thirst for romance and lust so easily.
I come up for air before I really do start tearing off his clothes. “I’m pretty sure that your second thing won’t be as good.”
He kisses me again, just for a few moments. “Probably not.” He holds his phone in front of us, and I see our image reflected back. “What do you think?”
“We take a selfie?” I ask hesitantly. “And you post it?”
He nods and lifts his sunglasses. “Only if you want.”
I lose myself in the amber of his eyes and think. The idea of taking this step is a bit intimidating, but it also feels exciting. I look down at the ground and keep thinking. And then I catch sight of something that makes me smile. Esben has on one blue sock and one white sock. I don’t have to think anymore. “Yes, let’s post a picture.”
“You do know,” he warns, “that we’ll get some not-so-nice comments.”
“From girls especially. I know.” I don’t say anything; I simply turn, touch the side of my face to his, and look to the lens.
Esben posts our picture.
Allison, meet everyone. Everyone, meet Allison. #thiskissthiskiss #allison #180
I don’t care about the comments, the reactions. Not right now. All I care about is that I was able to let him—let us—put this out there.
It’s a damn milestone for me, and I will never forget this day. Or him.
CHAPTER 16
GRUDGE
A few weeks later, Esben, his sister, Kerry, and I are outside the bustling student union. It’s the week before Halloween, and the chilly breeze is making us all shiver under the bleak gray sky. While we all have on thick sweaters or jackets, it feels like this might be the last tolerable day before true bitter temps set in. Northern Maine is not known for its easy winters. Steffi has been texting me sunshine pics for days, which maybe should annoy me, but the plethora of sunglass and cocktail emojis she attaches makes me giggle. I have been trying to get her on the phone for days and keep missing her, but the wacky texts are holding me over okay.
