All of a sudden, I pause. I can’t decide on what to do when he opens the door. Do I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him like I want to? We kissed, right? It’s a milestone we crossed. But did it change anything, are we . . . together now? More precisely, are we kissing now? We did break the thou shalt be friendly and thou shalt not touch fundamental friends’ rule. Maybe I should sit and observe, see where he takes it? One little, okay more like one heavy, makeout session and everything’s changed.
I take a deep breath and knock. Liam answers the door with a blue t-shirt that makes his eyes gleam, relaxed jeans, and a sweet side-smile. “Hey.”
I take a step forward, deciding to do the casual kiss on the cheek thing that somehow brings us straight into Awkward Land. While I rise a little on my toes, aiming for his cheek, he embraces me with one arm and pecks my forehead with the most lackluster kiss. With this broken choreography, I end up with my face squashed to his shirt collar with my stupid lips puckered and one arm trapped under his armpit. And even as we ease back, something with our limb coordination doesn’t work. For a silly, clumsy moment we adjust ourselves, each collecting his own arms to his side and laugh self- deprecatingly.
“We should seriously consider competing as a synchronized swimming duo. When’s the next Olympics?” I say.
Liam scoffs. “I’ll look into it. Do they have mixed teams?” He deadpans. “Hungry?” He asks next, easygoing as ever.
“Famished.”
“That’s my girl.”
I frown. Am I, though. Your girl? Don’t say things like that if you’re not willing to stick your tongue down my throat, will ya? I inwardly giggle, imagining saying that out loud.
The breakfast table in the rather cozy kitchen is set for two. Nothing too fancy, just . . . . nice and homey. I smile noticing he even went through the trouble of putting on a checkered tablecloth. I can’t imagine this is something he’d do ordinarily. There’s a bowl of guacamole, a bowl of tortilla chips, and two glasses.
I snatch a tortilla chip, pile it with guac and load it into my mouth. I cover my mouth with my hand and say, “So good.”
Liam sends me a grin. “Beer, wine?”
“Beer, thanks.”
“Grab a seat, food’s ready.”
“It’s my first time cooking vegetarian tacos, so, if it’s shit you take the blame.”
I laugh. “Thanks for the effort. I’m sure it’s going to be perfect. Anyhow, I’m so hungry I’d eat anything.”
His turn to laugh. “Thanks for putting the standards so low. Appreciate it.” Liam opens two bottles of beer; he hands me one and turns to put on a mitten to bring the pot to the table. He sits down across the table from me, tossing the mitten in the direction of the kitchen counter, and nods, gesturing for me to dig in.
I stare at him for a beat as he loads food onto a plate. Okay, alright, I get it, we’re being civil. I can do that. I guess the ripping each other’s clothes off part is planned for later. Maybe after dinner, makes sense – better stamina. I can get behind that. And speaking of food, I am truly famished. I’m running on a date and a few almonds after four consecutive aerobics classes. Running home, taking a shower, and doing last moment aesthetics modifications, a quick shave here, a little scrub there, didn’t leave me much time but to have a glass of water. So, yeah, hi tacos, you bad boys, come to momma.
Liam bites into a taco with a boy-bite, the one that consumes half of the thing in one go. “Not as good as the real thing, but not too bad either.”
I take a bite of mine. “Ummm. Perfection.” I kiss my fingers chef style. “Marry me, Liam Brody, and make me tacos every day!”
“I do.” He smiles at me adorably. He tips his chin my way next. “You have—” He extends his hand and wipes whatever it is from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. “Guac,” he says and licks his thumb.
You see there’s a very fine line between being utterly comfortable with a person and pressing all their hot buttons. You can’t do this after kissing me silly last night and expect me not to jump your stupid bones. I look for a distraction and find it in the suitcase standing by the wall. “All packed?”
He nods, avoiding my eyes. “So, you’re going to have your own studio,” he says next. Feels like a diversion from addressing his going away.
I swallow and wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, I’m so thrilled. Up until now I didn’t allow myself to even think about it too much, not until I got the loan. But now, there’s so much I want to do. I have a whole plan for the next couple of years. I want to add Reformer Pilates classes, but that’ll have to wait for a while.”
“Why’s that?” Liam asks, tipping the beer bottle toward his mouth.
“Well, for starters the actual machine costs around 10k, not to mention the certification only is 3k.” He nods. “I want to do some minor aesthetics maintenance. I’ll begin with things I can do by myself on weekends and go from there.”
Dinner is pleasant, our conversation as ever flows, besides Liam’s weird avoidance of talking about his trip. I drop it, not bringing it up anymore either.
“I’m literally fighting myself not to eat another one,” I say, eyeing the shells with utter yearning.
“Why?”
“’Cause I’m stuffed, but they’re so good.” I let out a little groan that makes him chuckle.
His smile lingers then slowly his expression evolves into something a little more intense. His eyes search mine; he opens his mouth to say something and closes it. He drops his eyes to the table and squeezes the life out of a poor, innocent napkin.
“Hey, tell me something that I don’t already know about you. Shock me.” I attempt to lighten whatever came over him.
Liam’s smile returns. He looks relieved. Grinning, he says, “I got arrested once.”
I gape at him. “You? What the hell for?”
His grin grows. “Breaking hearts.”
I toss a napkin at him. “Ha. Funny.”
He turns to peel the label off the bottle. “No seriously. In college.” He sends me a small, sinister smile.
I beam in return. “I’m all ears, Dr. Brody.”
He slouches a little in the chair, sending his arm to rest on the next chair. “I went to a bar with some friends to shoot pool. Someone accidentally spilled a bit of a drink on my shirt. As I was driving back home, I got pulled over. The officer was of the enthusiastic kind, was certain I was drunk from the alcohol smell and arrested me of course. I didn’t even have a drink. I was planning on studying later on. So, there I was, booked, fingerprinted, photographed, and thrown in the slammer. Totally sober.”
My lips part. “No.”
“Only then did they do the breathalyzer test and surprise, surprise, I blew a 0.0 on the test. I swear, it was such a mess having it removed from my record. A near act-of-congress.”
“Oh wow. Color me shocked.”
“What about you?”
“Just an offense of exposure.”
His eyes cut to mine with the bottle of beer mid-air touching his lips.
“Just kidding, as opposed to you, lawbreaker, my rap sheet’s clean.” I look at him. “I thought I knew everything about you. I guess there’s always more to learn.”