"Whatever it is that's making you look like that."
She gestures to all of me.
"I look normal," I say with a prim pinch of my lips that doesn't fool her for a second.
"Maddie." Jazz sets her flower down and gives me the look. The look is a specific and terrible thing. It is the look of a woman who knows me inside and out and isn't afraid to exploit my many weaknesses to get what she wants. "You look like someone who has either done something wonderful or something stupid. Or something wonderfully stupid, which is even better."
I snort, the air coming from my nostrils ruffling my newly finished paper flower.
"I hate you."
I put the finished flower in the pile with the others and grab another piece of tissue paper.
"No you don't." She picks her flower back up, then puts it down again. "Talk."
I fold my paper. Accordion. Accordion. Accordion.
"I slept with Demetrius," I let out in a resigned breath.
The living room air is suddenly thick enough to slice with a knife.
Jazz closes her eyes. She takes a breath through her nose, slow and measured, like she is doing a yoga exercise, then opens her eyes. Picks up her flower and puts it back down. Picks up her coffee. Puts that down too.
"Okay," she says.
"Okay? That's it? Just okay?"
"I'm processing." She holds up one finger. Her nail is painted a very cheerful coral, which feels appropriately festive for this specific moment. "Give me two seconds."
I give her the two seconds. She uses them to do something in her face that cycles through several distinct expressions and lands, eventually, on a very careful neutral. It's honestly impressive. Like watching someone manually reboot a system after a power surge.
"How was the sex?"
"Jazz." I chuckle and feel my entire face burning all of a sudden.
"What?" Jazz lifts her brows and shrugs. "I need all relevant data points. It's for science."
"It was..." I stop as the burning spreads from my cheeks all the way to the top of my head. "Let's just say it's something I want to do again."
Jazz looks at me like I just snatched an ice cream cone from her hands.
"That is simultaneously the most and least informative sentence you have ever produced," she says. "So, you rekindled the old flame of your first boyfriend. What now? Are you a couple or is this just a casual thing?"
I inhale deeply at the question and sip my coffee while I think of a satisfying answer. I should have known Jazz would not only see right through me, but straight to the heart of the situation.
What am I doing with Demetrius, indeed? Is this just a fling, a way to get closure? Just a casual hookup?
"I really don't know." I separate a layer of pink paper with my thumbnail. It tears a little at the edge and I wince. "I mean, it's so new. We didn't exactly lay out a five year plan."
"So it's just sex and that's all?"
Is it?
I think about this morning. The way we laughed and how comfortable it was. I think about that kiss he gave me.
"I don't think it's just sex," I say, when I find the word. "Not that we really talked about it, but it doesn't feel like it." I look down at the paper in my lap. "But I don't know what this means for the future. I just know it felt right. Still does."
Something warm is doing fragrant work in the kitchen, butter and sugar and something that smells like it's going to be unreasonably delicious.
