Page 143 of Backslide
Maybe it’s the weirdness of that name. Or how good he looks, with those broad shoulders, taking up space in my apartment.
But if I have more questions, I can’t think of what they are. They’ve been subsumed into a swell of something much more powerful.
So, I launch myself at him. Or at least I think I do. All I know is that one minute I’m on the couch and the next I’m on him—my mouth on his mouth, my arms around his neck, my body pressed up against his. And there is heat pooling inside me.
He doesn’t hesitate. He kisses me right back. There’s no doubt here now. There are no questions.
He tastes like beer and something fruity, and I don’t ever plan to let go.
32NOAHTODAY
She’s on me in a flash and it takes everything in my power to contain myself.
Because this is all I want. Forever.
In just weeks—but also through years—I’ve missed her so much. The way her hair smells, tickling my skin as it pours over us. The way her mouth tastes, like cold cider. The way her body feels as I lift her up—like she’s my perfect fit.
My other half.
Mymissinghalf.
I would happily live here. Among the cereal boxes. Subsisting solely on oats and beer—which is basically also oats.
I would build us a fort on the couch. Build us a pen for the goats. Build us a sex den in the bedroom—which I have yet to see.
Build us a life—and never leave.
But that won’t be necessary because just as our kiss turns to something more, as we tumble toward the sofa knocking over cereal boxes,hands traveling in illicit directions, tearing off clothes, skin against skin, and breaking all the traffic laws, she mumbles something incoherent.
“What?” I say.
“I said I’m coming with you.”
“Coming with me—to the couch?”
From a whisper away, she giggles into my mouth, which just makes me want to do all the things to her—forher.
“No, silly. To LA.”
“To help me pack?”
She shakes her head. “To live.”
“But what about Humbug?”
“Humbug will live forever in our hearts and in infamy.”
I pause for real now. Pull back just a bit, as I peer into her face, threading my fingers in her hair at the back of her neck. “Are you serious?”
“Very. This was all very thoughtful of you. But I hope you didn’t quit your practice yet. Because I’m coming to LA.”
“But… are you sure? I thought you didn’t want to uproot your life for me.”
She shakes her head. “No. I didn’t want you toexpectme to do that. And anyway, I don’t know if you know this, but my best friends live in California. And I lived there first, by the way, like way before you—so, it’s reallymyplace. Not yours. And they need art directors there whether at an ad agency or in entertainment. And also, as much as it will always be home, I need to leave New York before the bodega cat figures out how to make copies of my keys.”
I look into her face, searching for a hint of doubt. “Are you sure?” I ask her.
“Positive,” she says.
