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And touch.
With our lips.
No audience this time. No dance floor, no public display. This is about us and us alone. If Will’s trying to make a statement to the crowd, he’s found an awfully private place to do it. As he kisses me, our breath mingling, words earnest and real, it hits me, full throated and revelatory, the heady feeling of being in Will’s arms righting the world.
Because he’s showing me our truth.
I am the crowd.
Chapter Eighteen
Three weeks later
You ready? Perky texts me as I chop the last red pepper to put in the stir fry. Onions are caramelizing on the stove already, the house filled with the scent.
Will’s coming over for dinner. He’s ten minutes late and while I’m not worried about being stood up, I have to keep myself busy in order not to spontaneously combust. Chopping vegetables seems like a good outlet for my nervousness.
As long as I don’t cut off a fingertip.
The text stands out on the glass screen of my phone, more metaphysical than Perky could ever imagine.
Am I ready?
Am I?
Wiping my right hand on a kitchen towel that hangs on the oven handle, I text back, Ready for what?
Sex, she replies instantly. Third date. It’s a requirement.
What?
You really don’t know a person until you’re naked and in bed with them, she replies. Third date’s a sure thing.
Is not! I reply.
Is so. You know he expects it, she answers, adding a donut and an eggplant emoji.
Great. Now I’m imagining Will’s penis as a big purple nightshade. She’s not helpful.
You need to quit reading those erotic sci-fi romance novels where the aliens are blue and purple and have three tongues on their penises, I answer.
Quit deflecting. You have protection? she replies.
From you? I have a sage stick and decaf coffee, I type back.
I get a meme about condoms in return.
You want memes? I threaten. Because I’m pretty sure you don’t want to go there.
You said you deleted all memes you have about me! You swore! she replies.
Damn. Caught.
I hope he’s good in bed, she says. Did you WD-40 your labia so they don’t creak when they open?
My phone starts to slip and I grab at it desperately, fumbling in my panic to prevent it from cracking on the floor. It falls anyhow.
And… whew. No spider screen.
