Her hand brushes against mine, but she pulls back fast.
“I guess.” I stick my hands in my pockets. “Enzo is kind of drifting right now, so it’s not like I want to have his life. But he never had a girl dump him because he’s boring. My brother is one of those people who could start a cult or run for president. He’s just…it’s hard to explain. He’s got, like, this weird charisma.”
“You have charisma,” Maren protests, but she’s just being sweet. “So, you have four siblings?”
“Yep. Lydia, the brain. Enzo, the damn prophet.” We both laugh. “Gen is the family basket case. And Cece, my favorite sister, is in a PhD program for her women’s studies degree. She’s actually home for a break now. I gotta get home to see her.”
Maren’s shoulders seem to slump a little. “It sounds great. You guys sound super tight.”
“You don’t see your sister so much?” I ask. I get that. Lydia flits in and out, breaking Mom’s heart on half the holidays because she’s too busy skiing in Vail to come home for Chanukah or off on another Caribbean getaway with her girlfriends over Passover. Even Enzo is better about showing up for the big stuff.
“Hardly ever in the last few years.” Maren wades out a little farther than is comfortable. She’s going to freeze if she doesn’t come back.
She doesn’t say anything else about her sister, and, when a rough swell comes in, it looks like she’s going to fall over. I dart into the water and grab her.
We stand in the middle of the cold ocean, lapping with more dangerous intensity as the tide rushes, my arms around her, her face tilted up to look into mine, the hood knocked back when I pulled her close.
“Your pants,” she says, her lip shaking, from cold or fear or what I don’t know.
“Forget them. Are you okay?”
She nods, but the waves suck back, and she almost loses her footing again, grabbing onto my jacket with her small hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” I tell her for the second time tonight.
We walk back out of the waves, and takes my hands in hers, her fingers so cold, they have to be numb. “We need to go in. You need to change or you’ll freeze.”
I want to tell her that I don’t give a fuck how cold I am, because I want to be alone with her, so I’ll put up with any amount of discomfort. I want to tell her that I am thinking of taking off my pants, but that’s because I want to get naked with her, right here if I thought she’d agree. I want to tell her that she has a mouth that makes me think of sex every time she smiles or purses her lips or sips wine.
But I say, “I’m cool.”
She licks those lips, the ones I’ve been imagining licking, nipping, feeling pressed all over my body. Good thing I’m half soaked with frigid ocean water, because otherwise, I’d have an uncontrollable hard-on.
“I should get back to Jason.”
Her eyes are apologizing, but the words piss me off anyway. Go back to what? Watch him flirt with Ally? Feel some twisted sense of shame every time he opens his stupid mouth and something idiotic comes out? Back to some asshole?
Back to Jason instead of here with me.
Pissed off as I might be, I’m glad she has the good sense to suggest it. It’s the right thing to do.
“Let’s head back,” I say.
When we get back in, the game is on the home screen, blaring through the weirdly quiet house.
Ally is balled up on the couch, snoring lightly, but I don’t see him. I make my way upstairs and almost trip over his sprawled body. At first I assume he’s dead, but I look close and see that he’s breathing.
Jason’s passed out. Unbelievable. I mean, what did I expect after those four generous glasses of booze, but shit. I head back down and tell Maren, who starts pacing at the foot of the stairs, her fingers linked together nervously.
“What am I supposed to do?” she finally says. “I mean, what is he? Fifteen? Passing out. I’m so sorry about this, Cohen, I feel like
“I guess.” I stick my hands in my pockets. “Enzo is kind of drifting right now, so it’s not like I want to have his life. But he never had a girl dump him because he’s boring. My brother is one of those people who could start a cult or run for president. He’s just…it’s hard to explain. He’s got, like, this weird charisma.”
“You have charisma,” Maren protests, but she’s just being sweet. “So, you have four siblings?”
“Yep. Lydia, the brain. Enzo, the damn prophet.” We both laugh. “Gen is the family basket case. And Cece, my favorite sister, is in a PhD program for her women’s studies degree. She’s actually home for a break now. I gotta get home to see her.”
Maren’s shoulders seem to slump a little. “It sounds great. You guys sound super tight.”
“You don’t see your sister so much?” I ask. I get that. Lydia flits in and out, breaking Mom’s heart on half the holidays because she’s too busy skiing in Vail to come home for Chanukah or off on another Caribbean getaway with her girlfriends over Passover. Even Enzo is better about showing up for the big stuff.
“Hardly ever in the last few years.” Maren wades out a little farther than is comfortable. She’s going to freeze if she doesn’t come back.
She doesn’t say anything else about her sister, and, when a rough swell comes in, it looks like she’s going to fall over. I dart into the water and grab her.
We stand in the middle of the cold ocean, lapping with more dangerous intensity as the tide rushes, my arms around her, her face tilted up to look into mine, the hood knocked back when I pulled her close.
“Your pants,” she says, her lip shaking, from cold or fear or what I don’t know.
“Forget them. Are you okay?”
She nods, but the waves suck back, and she almost loses her footing again, grabbing onto my jacket with her small hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” I tell her for the second time tonight.
We walk back out of the waves, and takes my hands in hers, her fingers so cold, they have to be numb. “We need to go in. You need to change or you’ll freeze.”
I want to tell her that I don’t give a fuck how cold I am, because I want to be alone with her, so I’ll put up with any amount of discomfort. I want to tell her that I am thinking of taking off my pants, but that’s because I want to get naked with her, right here if I thought she’d agree. I want to tell her that she has a mouth that makes me think of sex every time she smiles or purses her lips or sips wine.
But I say, “I’m cool.”
She licks those lips, the ones I’ve been imagining licking, nipping, feeling pressed all over my body. Good thing I’m half soaked with frigid ocean water, because otherwise, I’d have an uncontrollable hard-on.
“I should get back to Jason.”
Her eyes are apologizing, but the words piss me off anyway. Go back to what? Watch him flirt with Ally? Feel some twisted sense of shame every time he opens his stupid mouth and something idiotic comes out? Back to some asshole?
Back to Jason instead of here with me.
Pissed off as I might be, I’m glad she has the good sense to suggest it. It’s the right thing to do.
“Let’s head back,” I say.
When we get back in, the game is on the home screen, blaring through the weirdly quiet house.
Ally is balled up on the couch, snoring lightly, but I don’t see him. I make my way upstairs and almost trip over his sprawled body. At first I assume he’s dead, but I look close and see that he’s breathing.
Jason’s passed out. Unbelievable. I mean, what did I expect after those four generous glasses of booze, but shit. I head back down and tell Maren, who starts pacing at the foot of the stairs, her fingers linked together nervously.
“What am I supposed to do?” she finally says. “I mean, what is he? Fifteen? Passing out. I’m so sorry about this, Cohen, I feel like
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