Page 49 of Meet Hate Love
Aunt Patricia: I’m sorry, Maureen. Did you say manure?
Mom: Yes.
A photo of the shit-covered yard followed. I stifled a laugh.
Erin: It’s good for the soil.
Grace: Sorry. I have a stomach virus. Can’t help.
Almost immediately, a personal message from Grace popped up at the top of the screen.
Grace: Karma is alive and well. Mom’s yard is covered in shit. Kate is going to lose it.
Back to the family chat.
Aunt Brenda: Oh my, Maureen. That’s terrible.
Aunt Patricia: How did that happen?
Erin: It’s not like Kate doesn’t have ten million enemies…
Aunt Patricia: Kate is lovely. There’s no reason for her to have enemies.
Erin: Kate is about as lovely as a case of poison ivy on your asshole.
Mom: Erin! She’s your sister.
Erin: And she’s a bitch.
Snorting, I liked that comment. So did Grace. And if I had to put money on it, Erin’s magnet had just replaced mine in fourth place, or maybe Mom had them side by side in the trash by now…
Nana: Jesus is judging every single one of you!
Erin: I’m Buddhist, Nana. Jesus doesn’t judge me.
Then the chat divulged into two separate topics, one about the poo-covered yard, another about saving Erin’s eternal soul.
“I really hate I’m not there to witness the shitpocalypse,” I said as I passed my phone over to Vance—since he seemed invested.
Onlybecause he seemed invested, not because I had some weird connection with him. Not because of that at all.
* * *
Okay,so maybe I had passed the phone over because I had felt some unnatural connection to him. And maybe I had debated on kissing him again, just to clarify if, in the short hour since he’d kissed me, I’d somehow remembered it to be more incredible than it was.
Vance stopped beside the metro entrance. “Are you sure you don’t want to go with me? I promise I’ll silence my timer.”
As much as I wanted to, traipsing around the City of Love with Mr. Magic Lips would not help me sort through my conflicted thoughts. “As tempting as that is…” I could have finished that sentence with a simple “no thanks,” but me and simple weren’t very good friends. “I have this article I want to write that requires me to…” I faked a cough because I didn’t exactly know where I was going with that excuse. “Do things.” Another faked cough. “Alone things.” That sounded like I had plans to go hide in some alcove and masturbate. Great.
“Yeah.” He crammed both hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Of course. You go do your alone stuff, and I’ll just...” His lips flattened into a line. At least he seemed just as awkward and uneasy as I did. “I’ll see you at dinner, I guess?”
“Yeah. Dinner.” Because that had been part of the assignment’s stipulation. Ticketed sites and dinners had to be done together. It was fine.
I could spend the day convincing myself he was a terrible idea, and for extra protection, I’d order something for dinner guaranteed to give me horrendous breath.Travel tip on how not to screw your travel partner you used to hate: Scarf down a mountain of raw onions with dinner. One hundred percent effective. No amount of Colgate toothpaste can combat the vaporous stench.
After Vance and I had parted ways, I strolled along the sidewalks, taking in the café terraces decorated with colorful flowers, past artisan shops, and endless vintage stores. I even took a tour through the catacombs—yes, it was a ticketed attraction, but out of desperation to distract myself, I paid for it with my personal card so work would never know. But even musty, underground tunnels made of skulls and femurs couldn’t force the memory of that kiss from my mind.
I shook my head as I perused the catacomb giftshop. “It’s because it’s been almost a year since I had sex,” I said, grabbing a souvenir button and heading to the checkout. “I’m just horny.”
