Page 42 of You Had Me at Hockey

Not a sickness, or an illness.”

I feel Sara shaking beside me and I know she’s trying to hold back her laughter. That makes me nearly lose it, and I actually snort out loud. Sara laughs harder and she coughs trying to cover it up. We’re both dying, heads pressed together. Hopefully everyone else thinks we’re making out and not laughing our asses off.

I don’t want to be rude to these people who get up there and read their poems, which they’ve obviously worked hard on and take very seriously. So I try to sober up and listen to the next poems.

In another break, Sara finishes her beer. “We have to get going,” she announces to her friends. “Thanks for letting us tag along! This was so fun!”

We all stand.

“Great to meet you,” I say to the others.

Then we make our escape outside.

We both start laughing, leaning on each other as we stumble down the sidewalk. “I’m sorry,” I wheeze. “That’s just not my scene.”

“I guess it’s not mine either. I swear last time I went to one of these, the poems were actually good.”

“What’s a good poem? I don’t even know.”

“You don’t know any poems?”

“Hold on.” I pause, holding up a finger. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star…”

She doubles over in a fit of giggles.

“Wait, wait. I have a better one. “There once was a man named Jock, who had an extremely long—”

“Noooooo!” She’s laughing harder.

“He wrapped it around his stomach and down, through his trousers and into his sock.”

We turn the corner onto Fifty-seventh, both of us cackling away.

“How about that dessert?” I say.

“Oh! Right! I definitely want dessert.”

“We need to get over to Lexington.”

We zigzag a bit to end up at Cakey Bakey, where I’d planned for us to go. Better late than never, I guess.

“I love this place!” Sara claps her hands.

“Well, good.” I open the door for her, and we enter to the smell of sugar and vanilla.

Sara vacillates over the extensive cupcake menu, finally settling on peanut butter chocolate. I order a red velvet. There’s only a tiny seating area with tables and chairs, but we snag one and sit to eat our dessert. Sara dives in, and her enjoyment is gratifying. She looks up at me with a smear of chocolate icing on one corner of her mouth. “Yum!”

It’s still there when we’re done and we stand to leave, so I move in and swipe it away with my index finger. “Little icing there,” I murmur. Then, her eyes widening and her lips parting, I brush it over her bottom lip. Her tongue comes out and slides over her lip…and my finger.

Heat rises around us like we’re in the center of a bonfire.

She juts her chin forward slightly and sucks my finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, our eyes locked on each other. Jesus. I think I’m about to combust.

“What now?” she asks, her voice husky.

Chapter 11

Sara

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