Page 67 of Love at Teamsgiving
“But should we?” she asks.
A truck drives by and the bass shakes the car. We both laugh nervously. Maybe not so quiet after all.
As if unable to bear remaining stationary in the car together without doing something that might steam up the windows, at the same time, we both throw open the doors. The scent of wood smoke hangs in the crisp air and I meet her on the passenger side. My pinky hooks hers. Like with my arm earlier, she doesn’t try to shake me off.
But her exhale is shaky, as if still recovering from our almost-kiss.
I say, “It’s quiet here again.”
“Too quiet,” she says.
“I’m getting used to it.”
“I have to sleep with a white noise machine,” she confesses.
I chuckle. “Do you miss the deep bass from cars, honking horns, sirens, and hollering at all hours?”
“My body does.” She glances up at me.
Taking that as her way of saying that she’s missed me without wanting to risk rejection, I pause on the sidewalk. “I’ve missed you, too, Junie.”
Her eyes sparkle in the dim light. “Really?”
“Have I not made that clear?”
She sticks out her bottom lip. “Maybe you could make it clearer.”
I’m about to give in to temptation and go for a real winning kiss that’ll light up the entire block, but I don’t want this to just be about our physical attraction.
Taking her hand, I say, “Let’s take a walk down memory lane.”
“But we’ve never so much as strolled down this sidewalk together.”
“I meant back to when we decided not to have a future together.”
“You really want to go there?” Junie asks.
I pause on the sidewalk, “I’m not a puck bunny, Junie P.”
She laughs. “No, you’re a hockey player.”
“I want you to want me for more than just my devastating good looks.”
Her lips quirk. “You need a haircut.”
“Or my abs of steel.”
“I don’t need to use them to do my laundry. We now have a washer and dryer in the basement.”
I chuckle because she can deflect all she wants, but I score winning goals. Proved that tonight. “Don’t want me merely for my hockey prowess.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “What about for your way with your hands?”
I bump her with my shoulder because I know she’s teasing or is that subtext?
Taking a deep breath, I continue, wanting and needing to see this through. “It’s good to see the moms getting along, but what if all our problems were their problems?”
“Or that we refused to be responsible to each other rather than loyal to them.”
