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‘She makes you breathe. Do you know how long we’ve all been waiting for you to breathe?’
‘Sarah, she’s—’
‘I know. But she makes you smile and laugh, but she also makes you angry. People only fight when there’s something worth fighting for, Brooks.’
I throw the elastic ball at the far wall, this time letting it bounce to a stop.
‘Maybe you’re right.’
‘Of course, I’m right. I’m always right. Hey, she isn’t with you, is she? I’d like to try out some new British words on her.’
‘You’re the one who has psychic powers. You tell me.’
‘Um, let it be noted, I do not appreciate your tone. And if she isn’t with you, go goddamn get her.’
* * *
With my hair still wet from showering, I knock on Izzy’s door.
‘One sec,’ she calls. I smell meat cooking, sensitized to it like a wild beast, and decide she must be making her own dinner tonight. I don’t have time to be disappointed before she is standing in front of me. Her hair is also wet, and she’s wearing a white shirt. Only a white shirt.
She looks from me to the guitar in my hand. ‘What’s that?’
‘You asked to hear me play and you said you were bored.’ She reaches out to take the six-string acoustic from me but I stop her. ‘Ah-ah. That’s for me. First, I’m going to cure your boredom.’
I step inside and set the guitar against the wall, wasting no time before picking her up and wrapping her naked legs around me.
She kicks the door closed, kissing me back as frantically as I’m kissing her. The urgency, the overwhelming need I felt last night, comes back to me. I walk us into the living room.
‘Wait, wait. I’m cooking.’
My mouth locked on hers, I carry her into the kitchen. She turns off the gas under the frying pan. I start walking us away.
‘No, no, the oven is on too.’
I pull back from her and raise a brow; she just giggles. I like that I can do that to her. She fiddles with the oven knobs and, finally, I get her to the sofa.
I bring her down in my lap, her legs straddling mine, and as our mouths meet, as I feel her chest press against mine, I know Sarah was right. I just need to go with it.
As I run my thumbs down her neck, she rocks her head back, giving me access to her soft skin.
‘You seemed distant today,’ she says, breathlessly. ‘I wasn’t sure this was on the cards.’
‘I was thinking, that’s all.’
‘Dangerous. What did you think about?’
‘I decided we should think less and kiss more.’
She smiles and presses her lips to mine for a lingering, torturous kiss.
If I were a religious man, I would curse God right now. Why send this incredible feeling to me in the form of an antagonizing, self-righteous, amazing woman?
* * *
We are lying together on the sofa, our breaths beginning to slow, my racing heart starting to calm. Izzy runs her fingers over me, her soft touch blissful.
‘You never did tell me about this tattoo,’ she says.
