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She laughed but didn’t bother with a response.
“You know, we do have air-conditioning,” he said. “You’ve had that fridge door open for so long I thought maybe you were trying to cool the kitchen or something.”
“I’m thinking about dinner.”
“Awesome, because I’m starving.” He grabbed a glass from the cabinet. She took it from him, and he looked at her before just shrugging. She grabbed a jar of cherries and a bottle of Coke, making him a drink. He took a sip. “You’re entirely too good to me.”
“You can make it up to me later,” she said playfully.
“If you wanna go upstairs, I’ll make it up to you right now.”
“Dinner’s supposed to be ready at seven, which means I only have thirty minutes to throw something together,” she said, pulling some sausage out of the freezer. She stuck it into the microwave to defrost, but Carmine grabbed the sausage and tossed it back into the freezer. “What are you doing? You’re going to get me in trouble!”
He didn’t answer, instead pulling out his phone and scrolling through it to make a call. As soon as the line was picked up, he asked them to grab some pizza before coming home. He ended the call with a cocky smirk.
Haven rolled her eyes. “We’re still not going upstairs.”
“Fair enough, but I do wanna get drunk tonight.”
* * *
Haven heard a car approaching and watched the Mazda pull up outside. Dr. DeMarco stepped out with some boxes of pizza. “He’s home.”
The front door opened, and Carmine sighed exasperatedly as he let go of her. Dr. DeMarco walked into the kitchen and laid dinner on the counter before glancing at Carmine, a light groan escaping his throat. It was barely audible, and Haven looked at Carmine with uncertainty as he sipped from his cherry Coke.
The two of them exchanged keys, and Dr. DeMarco headed for the door again before any of them could react. He walked to his car, pausing at the passenger mirror. A long scratch dug into it, noticeable against the shiny black paint. He turned slowly toward the house, his eyes coming to rest on Haven at the window. She worried he would come back inside to somehow punish her, but he climbed into the car and drove away instead.
Haven turned to Carmine once he was gone. “I think I want to go upstairs now.”
“We can do that,” he said, snatching the top box of pizza. “I can still get fucked up, right?”
She smiled at his expression, his lips turned down in a childish pout. “Of course you can.”
“And you’re gonna drink with me, aren’t you?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“I wanna do everything with you,” he said. “Even shit we’d be better off not doing together.”
“Like driving?”
He laughed. “Yes, so let’s get smashed and forget you nearly killed me today trying.”
* * *
Haven brought her cup to her lips and took a sip of the sweet fruity drink. The alcohol taste lingered in the background, not so bad that it hindered the taste. “This is good. What is it?”
“Sweet-Tart. You know—orange soda, Kool-Aid, and Everclear.” Haven didn’t know, but she liked it anyway. She took another sip as Carmine grabbed his bottle of liquor and took a drink. He was shirtless, and Haven was captivated by the way his stomach muscles grew taut as his body quivered. His calloused hand scratched the scar on his side, his long fingers transfixing Haven.
He crouched down to look under the bed and dug out the shoeboxes, glancing inside before shoving them back under. He found what he was looking for and pulled out a gray game console and a controller, wordlessly hooking it up to his television.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Classic Nintendo,” he said.
“And you’re going to play it?”
“We are,” he corrected her, blowing into a game before sliding it in the console. “Or we’re certainly going to try.”
