Page 54 of Que Será, Syrah

“I know a lot.” Her mouth twists into a grimace as she shrugs and looks away. “Because I do that, too. I know the signs. You can’t kid a kidder, you know?”

“Yeah.” I tug at a lock of her hair, waiting until glances back at me to continue. “I always suspected we had that in common.”

“Yep,” she says as her lips edge up in the smallest of smiles. “Kindred spirits.”

But that might be a bridge or two too far. So, I shrug in response and equivocate. “Maybe. So, what signs have I missed? What’s something you been pretending about?”

That makes her pause. “Well, let’s see…” She gazes up at the ceiling, thinking hard—or so I imagine. Not being a mind reader, I can’t say for sure. For all I know, she’s taking a moment to make shit up.

“Okay,” she says finally. “You know that party I threw—the one where we met? I pretended like it was for midsummer, but it was really more than that. It was a revenge party.”

“Okay. Revenge for what? Or was it a who?”

“Both, in a way. See, my uncle was throwing a party the same night.”

I nod as a stray bit of memory falls into place. “Ohh-kay. That’s where the music was coming from. The music you were dancing to, right?”

“Yeah. Exactly. His party was actually supposed to be— Well, no, that’s not true. I thought it was supposed to be a party for me—mostly because of the timing. See, I’d just graduated high school. And since he’d thrown parties for both my sisters and all my cousins after they’d graduated, I just naturally assumed that was the reason he was having it.”

“And it wasn’t?” I ask, although the answer is obvious.

“Nooo.” She shakes her head sadly. “Absolutely not. I’d gone to see him, a few days before. You know—to ask why I couldn’t invite some of my friends? Turns out he was holding a grudge, or trying to teach me a lesson of something. He was angry because I hadn’t already chosen a college—like everyone else in the family had done, at that point.

“I said I wanted a gap year. He insisted that was just an excuse, that I’d end up not going back at all.”

She stops and shrugs. “Which…he wasn’t entirely wrong about. I mean, that might not have been my plan up until that point, but once he told me that since I refused to act like a grown up I didn’t deserve a party. That he’d decided to throw one for Rosa instead—because she had gone to college, and had just graduated. And that I wasn’t even allowed to attend the party, because there would be drinking there, and I was underage, and he didn’t trust me to behave myself…” She shrugs and looks away. “Well, you know. School had always been really hard for me, so…”

“That sucks.”

She shrugs again. “Yeah. I mean, it probably didn’t help that I was wearing my Sonoma T shirt when I went to see him. But he still didn’t have to be such a dick about it.”

“I remember that shirt.” I smile at the thought. “So, you stole a case of wine, and…?”

She nods. “I stole some wine, bought some lights, invited everyone I knew to come and hang out with me. And ended up meeting you. So, all in all, it was a good night.”

“Mm,” I say as I reposition her on my lap so that she’s straddling one of my legs. “As I recall, it was a really hot night. In more ways than one.”

“Um…what are we doing?” she asks as I pull the lapels of her robe apart and palm her breasts.

“Recreating one of our greatest hits,” I say as I lean in to place a kiss below her ear and begin to work my way down her neck. “I want to watch you come on my leg like you did that night, no hands, only friction.” I nip softly at her throat—and then blink in surprise when she pulls away.

“No. Stop.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologize, immediately pulling away from her, even dropping my hands from her breasts. “I thought you liked that.”

“Oh, I do!” she replies—looking almost as dismayed as I feel. “I love it. It’s just…we probably shouldn’t right? Not if we’re trying to keep this discreet. I don’t want to have to try and explain that again.”

I must look puzzled, because she rolls her eyes. “So, you were not wrong about my uncle. He was just a little bit annoyed about the wine I stole. But, I might have been okay. There really wasn’t anything to connect me to the theft. I mean, as far as anyone in my family knew, I’d spent the entire night alone, sulking in my room. You know?”

“Not really.”

“I didn’t realize it until my uncle came to question me the next day but—” She waves vaguely at her neck and stares at me, somewhat pointedly.

I stare blankly back, still not getting the message. “But…what?”

“I had love bites on my neck,” she replies in a strangely altered tone that I can’t quite place, but which sounds oddly familiar, all the same. “My life was in the toilet!”

But then comprehension—or perhaps memory—hits and I remember sucking at her throat while she ground against me. “Oh. Shit. That was me?”

---