that?"
"According to who?" I asked, sliding my half empty
glass of green stomachache towards me.
"I suppose you have a point."
"Anyway," I said. "I was only offering because I
know you want to try it again, and I don't want you to feel weird about
it."
She rolled her shiny eyes.
"What?"
"Trust me,” she said. “If I wanted to kiss you again, I
would."
I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, well that's a relief. I was
worried you might still be totally repressed-"
"Excuse me?"
"And I’d hate for you to make out with your own hand when
my perfectly capable lips are available."
She shook her head. "First of all, I haven't made out with
my hand since I was fourteen."
"If you say so."
"And who says I even want to kiss you again?"
I leaned forward and fixed my eyes on her. "You're
right."
"Thank you."
"You probably don't."
She folded her arms. "Yeah."
"But only because you're afraid you won't be able to stop
there."
Her mouth fell open.
"Admit that you've had wet dreams about me."
"Girls don’t have wet dreams."
I squinted at her. "Truth or dare?"
She swallowed and let her eyes drop to my lips before raising
them again. "Truth."
I smiled. "Have you ever had an inappropriate thought about
me? About us?"
She craned her neck back. "Define inappropriate."
"That's a fucking yes ladies and gentlemen."
"Don't be gross."
"Me?" I covered my chest with my hands. "You're
the one having filthy thoughts about your stepbrother."
Her eyes darted around the packed bar. "Are you done?"
"Yeah. I'm done." And I was. After all, I wasn't about
to take advantage of her when she was drunk, especially after the shit day she
had.
But I needed to let her know that the thought of kissing her
again had crossed my mind, and what better way to do that than by calling her
out for having the same idea?
Besides, I was growing increasing less concerned about the
consequences of wanting her. And I knew myself well enough to know that if
things continued in this vein, I wasn't going to be able to keep my hands to
myself.
"Truth or dare?" she asked.
I looked at her over my glass while I poured some more sweet
tequila down my throat. "Truth."
"Do you want to be buried or cremated?"
I raised my eyebrows. "What the fuck? You're plotting my
death now? I didn't mean to get you that wound up."
"No. I'm not plotting your death, and I'm not wound up by
your childish teasing. I'm just curious."
I shrugged. "Well, I suppose I hate the idea of staying put
for eternity, so cremated."
"And where do you want your ashes scattered?"
I yanked on the strings of my hoodie. "Can I change my
answer if I think of something better?"
"Sure. Whatever."
"In that case, you know how they die the Chicago River
Green on Paddy's Day?"
"Yeah."
"I'd liked to be dumped in there. On the actual day. Right
in the middle of the goddamn party."
She stuck her lower lip out and nodded.
"What about you?"
"Can I change my answer if I think of something
better?"
"Of course."
She cocked her head and one of her tank top straps fell off her
shoulder.
I watched her slide it back up with her delicate fingers.
"Cremated for sure," she said.
"And where do you want your fairy dust sprinkled?"
"Maybe along the Golden Gate Bridge."
I furrowed my brow. "Why?"
"Cause then I'm bound to be in the movies eventually."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, but it'll be some Marvel flick or
one of those new Planet of the Apes movies."
She shrugged. "That's okay. It's not like I'd get nominated
for an Oscar playing ashes in the breeze anyway."
I leaned back and looked at her. I loved her ambition, loved how
much she wanted to pursue her passion. I'd even go so far as to say she
inspired me, making me wonder if it was time to pursue my own.
"Your turn to ask a question," she said lifting her
chin.
I licked my salty lips. "What was your dare gonna be?"
She smiled. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Flashback: Ethan
I remember it like it was yesterday.
Aaron Schwartz was talking
"According to who?" I asked, sliding my half empty
glass of green stomachache towards me.
"I suppose you have a point."
"Anyway," I said. "I was only offering because I
know you want to try it again, and I don't want you to feel weird about
it."
She rolled her shiny eyes.
"What?"
"Trust me,” she said. “If I wanted to kiss you again, I
would."
I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, well that's a relief. I was
worried you might still be totally repressed-"
"Excuse me?"
"And I’d hate for you to make out with your own hand when
my perfectly capable lips are available."
She shook her head. "First of all, I haven't made out with
my hand since I was fourteen."
"If you say so."
"And who says I even want to kiss you again?"
I leaned forward and fixed my eyes on her. "You're
right."
"Thank you."
"You probably don't."
She folded her arms. "Yeah."
"But only because you're afraid you won't be able to stop
there."
Her mouth fell open.
"Admit that you've had wet dreams about me."
"Girls don’t have wet dreams."
I squinted at her. "Truth or dare?"
She swallowed and let her eyes drop to my lips before raising
them again. "Truth."
I smiled. "Have you ever had an inappropriate thought about
me? About us?"
She craned her neck back. "Define inappropriate."
"That's a fucking yes ladies and gentlemen."
"Don't be gross."
"Me?" I covered my chest with my hands. "You're
the one having filthy thoughts about your stepbrother."
Her eyes darted around the packed bar. "Are you done?"
"Yeah. I'm done." And I was. After all, I wasn't about
to take advantage of her when she was drunk, especially after the shit day she
had.
But I needed to let her know that the thought of kissing her
again had crossed my mind, and what better way to do that than by calling her
out for having the same idea?
Besides, I was growing increasing less concerned about the
consequences of wanting her. And I knew myself well enough to know that if
things continued in this vein, I wasn't going to be able to keep my hands to
myself.
"Truth or dare?" she asked.
I looked at her over my glass while I poured some more sweet
tequila down my throat. "Truth."
"Do you want to be buried or cremated?"
I raised my eyebrows. "What the fuck? You're plotting my
death now? I didn't mean to get you that wound up."
"No. I'm not plotting your death, and I'm not wound up by
your childish teasing. I'm just curious."
I shrugged. "Well, I suppose I hate the idea of staying put
for eternity, so cremated."
"And where do you want your ashes scattered?"
I yanked on the strings of my hoodie. "Can I change my
answer if I think of something better?"
"Sure. Whatever."
"In that case, you know how they die the Chicago River
Green on Paddy's Day?"
"Yeah."
"I'd liked to be dumped in there. On the actual day. Right
in the middle of the goddamn party."
She stuck her lower lip out and nodded.
"What about you?"
"Can I change my answer if I think of something
better?"
"Of course."
She cocked her head and one of her tank top straps fell off her
shoulder.
I watched her slide it back up with her delicate fingers.
"Cremated for sure," she said.
"And where do you want your fairy dust sprinkled?"
"Maybe along the Golden Gate Bridge."
I furrowed my brow. "Why?"
"Cause then I'm bound to be in the movies eventually."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, but it'll be some Marvel flick or
one of those new Planet of the Apes movies."
She shrugged. "That's okay. It's not like I'd get nominated
for an Oscar playing ashes in the breeze anyway."
I leaned back and looked at her. I loved her ambition, loved how
much she wanted to pursue her passion. I'd even go so far as to say she
inspired me, making me wonder if it was time to pursue my own.
"Your turn to ask a question," she said lifting her
chin.
I licked my salty lips. "What was your dare gonna be?"
She smiled. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Flashback: Ethan
I remember it like it was yesterday.
Aaron Schwartz was talking
Similar Books
