JENNIE
The next morning, I crawled out from under a sleeping Lisa. After a second round of hammer time, when she collapsed on me, spent and . . . Wait a second. You know in romance novels, when they say the guy collapses on top of the girl, spent and exhausted? Take that, add a transatlantic flight, and then you have what happened to Lisa. She literally collapsed onto me, sated and jet-lagged. I barely had time to set my alarm before 190 pounds of warm body collapsed on me and wasn't letting me up.
But when you go weeks without that same 190 pounds in your bed, the truth is, it felt kind of nice to sleep underneath that. Or at least, off to the side just a little bit. I loved her, but I loved my kidneys too.
After attending to Luca, I quickly showered. By the time I was dressed, he was at his post in the front window, making sure the neighborhood was still out there. Pulling my damp hair into a ponytail, I took a moment to admire Lisa, sawing logs in lumberjack land. Dark messy hair, made messy by my own hands, fell across her brow. Strong nose, killer cheekbones and full lips that had chanted my name several times just before she . . . Mmmm.
I took another moment to appreciate the still life in front of me: stretched out, arms above her head, torso long and lean, and nothing between her and that sheet but a promise.
I shook my head to clear it, then crossed the room and sat next to her. In her sleep, she mumbled and reached for me. Smiling, I let myself be caught into a sleepy bear hug, kissing her on the forehead until those gorgeous browns opened into mine.
"Morning, babe." I grinned as she pressed against me more fully. I knew this game. I didn't have time for this game. "No, no, I gotta go. The girls are waiting for me." Breakfast with my two best friends, Jisoo and Rosé, was something I always made time for, Wallbanger or no Wallbanger.
"Girls? Where do you think you're going? I just got back," she complained, still half asleep.
"I'm having breakfast with the girls. You weren't supposed to be home until tomorrow, remember?"
"But I'm here now," she mumbled, her eyes struggling to stay open.
"You stay here and get some more sleep. I know how tired you are," I whispered, kissing her forehead once more and tucking her back under the covers. Which really was a shame, because, come on, Lisa on a bed? It seemed a sin to cover any of that up.
But as she scrunched up her pillow and settled back in, she sure seemed cozy. With a deep sigh, she said, "I'll stay here and get some more sleep."
I bit back a laugh as she slipped back to dreamland.
I made my way toward the front door, nodding at Luca as I put on a jacket. "Everything look good out there today?" He looked back out the window, then back at me again. He blinked, then I'm pretty sure he shrugged.
I grinned and left my babies to go have breakfast with my girls.
• • •
"I'll have two eggs scrambled dry, whole wheat toast with peanut butter, a cup of berries, and a coffee, please."
"I'll do the egg-white omelet with spinach, tomatoes, and feta, no toast, and the strawberry smoothie, please."
"I'll take the large waffle platter with blueberry syrup and whipped cream, please, side of bacon, side of sausage, and a chocolate milk. And could I please get a side of rice pudding also?"
I'd been having breakfast with Jisoo and Rosé ever since our freshman year at Berkeley. The three of us knew each other exceedingly well, so much so that we could tell what kind of a mood each was in based on our orders at the diner.
Jisoo and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows as Rosé ordered and then went back to making a town out of the jelly containers. It was quite elaborate, with several buildings already. I shrugged as Jisoo inclined her head toward Rosé, trying to get me to broach the subject.
"Stop talking about me and get me the jellies from the table behind you," Rosé snapped, looking up from her Jelly Town. I rolled my eyes but grabbed the jellies.
"Here you go. Make sure you put a roof on City Hall there." I nodded toward the recent addition.
"No, Jennie, that's City Hall down there. Right now I'm working on the fire station," she huffed.
Jisoo's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. "Okay, that's it. I'm staging an intervention," she cried, reaching over to sweep the town off the table.
"You touch that jelly and I'll punch you in the throat," Rosé warned, her mouth set in a grim line.
"Ladies, let's not get violent so early in the morning, shall we? I haven't even had my coffee yet," I said, just as the waiter brought my coffee. "Okay, never mind—fight it out, you two." I laughed, leaning back in my chair.
Rosé stuck her tongue out at Jisoo, which carved a small smile into her tiny face. Jisoo was darling as always this morning, clad in a plaid miniskirt, kneesocks, and a turtleneck sweater. Give her some pigtails and a backpack and she'd look like a Filipino schoolgirl—an outfit I'm sure her fiancé, Jaehyun, would love.
Yep, Jisoo and Jaehyun were engaged. Like a scene from a romantic comedy with a twist, Jisoo and Rosé had met their knights in shining sweaters on the same night. Best buddies to my Lisa, Jaehyun and Haein had fallen head over feet for my ladies. After a little switcheroo, mind you. So between Jillian and Benjamin, and now Jisoo and Jaehyun, wedding fever had hit my little circle in San Francisco.
But part of my circle was broken. Broken up, rather.
As Rosé and Jisoo bickered, I noticed again how tired Rosé looked. She wasn't sleeping well—not that I could blame her.
When she first told us that Haein had cheated on her, we didn't know what to do. Our first instinct was to set fire to his car, something Lisa wisely talked us out of. Arson charges are a hard thing to have following you the rest of your life.
For a brief and crazy moment we considered breaking into the studio during one of his broadcasts and telling his viewers that they got their sports news from a cheating dick, but again, wiser heads prevailed.
So Jisoo and I simply stood by our friend as she fell apart.
It started when I got a call from Rosé late one night, after midnight. She was swearing nonstop; sailors all over the world would have been proud. I could only catch occasional phrases like "asshole cheater" and "the nerve of that fuck" and "balls are in my pocket." By the time she walked over to my apartment and came up the stairs, the swearing was beginning to calm down and the tears were falling fiercely. She pushed away my offer of tea, sucked back some scotch, and told me what had happened. By the time Jisoo made it over, it was all out on the table.
Haein had had dinner with an old girlfriend; dinner turned into after-dinner drinks; after-dinner drinks turned into kissing. Or a kiss, depending on who was telling the story. Regardless, that's what caused her to flush his car keys down the toilet.
We were all stunned. They'd seemed so happy; perfectly matched and twisted in the best of ways. Haein was the local sportscaster for NBC, great looking, sweet, lovable, an all-around great guy. Who was a cheater, something no one saw coming.
She broke up with him immediately, livid. She refused to see him, refused to take his calls, refused any attempt through Lisa or Jaehyun to have any contact with him at all. She was mad, then got really sad, and now she was . . .
Well, it was weeks later and she was sitting in a diner in her pajamas with her gorgeous red hair in straggles around her puffy face, wearing no makeup and fifteen extra pounds, and was making a town out of jelly. A musical child prodigy, she was a cellist for the San Francisco Symphony. One of the most beautiful and accomplished women in all of San Francisco was now making it snow in Jelly Town. God, no—not with dandruff, but with sugar packets.
"Rosé stop, stop—stop!" I yelled, grabbing her hand and spraying sugar snow everywhere. "This is enough. No more pouting, no more hiding. This is ridiculous!"
"Yeah!" Jisoo chimed in.
"Seriously, this has gone on long enough. I don't want to go all Afterschool Special here, but my God, woman, wash your hair!"
"Yeah!" Jisoo added.
"You're fucking hot, and you're fucking great, you're a fucking catch. And if fucking Haein doesn't get to have you anymore, who cares, because you're fucking awesome," I finished.
"Fuck, yeah!" was Jisoo's contribution.
The table fell silent. Rosé played with one last sugar packet, running it along her fingernails, then stopped to really look at them. Bitten down to the quick, jagged, polish peeling. She sighed, and then looked up at us, two big tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I hate him," she whispered, drawing a shuddering breath. "And I miss him."
"We know, sweetie," Jisoo said, drawing Rosé's hand into hers.
I leaned over and gave Rosé my napkin, which she used to wipe her eyes. She looked down at her sweatshirt, rumpled and stained.
"I kind of stink," she said with a grimace.
"We know, sweetie," Jisoo said again, which cracked a smile out of Rosé for the first time in a while.
A little pink crept back into her cheeks. She pulled a ponytail holder out of her purse and wrapped her messy hair back into a bun, out of her face. She glanced up as the waiter came to bring our food, her eyes growing huge when she realized the mounds of food she'd ordered. Once he had left, she unfolded her napkin and tucked it in her lap.
"Okay, no more wallowing. I ordered it, so I'll eat it. But starting this afternoon, no more wallowing includes no more eating like a thirteen-year-old boy."
"Boys that age have to eat like that. They have to keep up their strength for their many boners a day," Jisoo said matter-of-factly, separating her blueberries from her raspberries, then lining them up on the side of her plate like tiny cannonballs. Rosé and I stared at her as she went on to explain the extreme impact of boners on the social lives of junior high boys. As related to her by her fiancé, apparently an expert.
"Jaehyun really told you all this?" I asked as I sipped my smoothie.
"Yep, he said when he was that age, he couldn't keep his hands out of his pants for the life of him," she prattled, oblivious to the attention the table behind us was now giving her.
"You and Jaehyun sure seem to share a lot," Rosé said, shaking her head incredulously as Jisoo demonstrated a particular "technique" that had been employed by the teenage Jaehyun.
"Okay, okay, no more!" I protested, waving my hands. "It's enough that I won't be able to look him in the eye next time I see him; no more yanky-wanky details. Let's change the subject— Who has news?"
The gossip section of breakfast had officially begun.
"Okay, I'll start. I found out the Palace of Fine Arts is available; looks like that's where my reception will be!" Jisoo sang.
"Jillian asked me to head up the team bidding on the Claremont Hotel redesign in Sausalito," I offered.
"I've spent the last three weeks in a dark cloud, so I got nothing. But did you know that my hair is long enough that if I lean back far enough I can sit on it?" Rosé volunteered.
We chewed.
"I had a client ask me if I'd mind organizing her porn collection," Jisoo said.
"I might have ordered a porn collection at three in the morning a few days ago," Rosé told the inside of her sweatshirt.
"Lisa came home early last night and surprised me. So I had some live-action porn."
"She came home early? Wow, that's impressive. Seems like lately she's been traveling more than usual," Jisoo commented, eating the cannonballs in alternating order. Blueberry. Raspberry.
"Yeah, she has been busier than normal. What can I say? My girlfriend is the darling of the photography world." I grinned, flushing when I thought about how sexy she looked when she was working.
"I don't know how you guys do that, be apart so much. I'd die if I didn't see Jaehyun every day—I'd just die!" Jisoo exclaimed. Blueberry. Raspberry. "I don't know how you don't miss her like crazy!"
"Of course I miss her—some weeks it's really hard. But this is who she is, this is how she's always been, and we make it work. Honestly? Sometimes it's kind of great: I have my time, she has her time, and then when she's home, it's our time." I swiped my finger through a little bit of Rosé's whipped cream, barely evading the tines of her fork. "Anyway, I like the idea that we're not a couple who has to sleep together every night. Admit it. Don't you sometimes miss having the bed all to yourself?"
Jisoo instantly began shaking her head, while Rosé just avoided eye contact.
"Okay, change of subject again. Let's talk about the wedding. The wedding of the century"—I started, then backpedaled as soon as I saw Jisoo's look—"at least until Jisoo here takes that mantle. Until she does, though, Jillian is going for it! And wait until you see Benjamin's tux. Good lord, the man can wear tails like nobody's business."
At the mention of Benjamin everyone perked up, even Rosé. The category of sexy older man had been created specifically with him in mind, and we all sighed together.
"Anyway, we gotta start thinking about dates for you, young lady. Who are you thinking about taking?" I asked, looking at Rosé. She turned white.
"Ah shit, I didn't even think about that! Haein's going, isn't he?" she asked, her expression panicked. She looked down at herself, then back up at us. "Ack, I can't let him see me looking like this! What's he going to think? He's gonna think I'm, like, on the floor in a puddle over him!"
Jisoo started to interject, but I placed a hand on her arm and shook my head as Rosé went on.
"And what if he brings someone? Shit, he's totally bringing someone, isn't he? Isn't he? That's it—that asshole; he thinks he can show me? He thinks he's gonna get the better of me? Hell no, not on my watch. Stupid overgrown boy-looking sportscaster motherfucker."
This entire conversation was had by Rosé alone as she grabbed her purse and headed back toward the bathroom.
Once she was gone, I grabbed the rest of her waffles and divided them between my plate and Jisoo's. We clinked forks and tucked in for a few minutes.
"Do you think he's bringing someone?" I asked.
"I'm sure he is. I've tried asking Jaehyun about it, but he's claiming guy code, or bros before hos, or something ridiculous like that."
"Same with Lisa. I wonder if they—" I stopped as Rosé exited the bathroom.
The sweatshirt was now tied around her waist, the revealed tank top tight. Her hair was braided, bangs swept back revealing a clean, shining face. Lip gloss had been added; a little blush too. The girl was stunning once more; you just can't keep that kind of beauty buried for too long. But what made every man and more than a few women do a double take were her double D's. Accentuated more than ever by the purposeful rip she'd given her tank top, perfectly highlighting each D to its full potential.
"Can you believe I was ever worried about gaining a little weight? Look how great my tits look!" she announced as she came back to the table. "Let's head over to the park and pick up hot boys. Let's see how many I can get to stop jogging with these," she said, pulling a wad of cash from her purse and throwing it on the table.
I couldn't help but laugh as she dragged a protesting Jisoo away from her food. Rosé was back on the prowl, and she took out two busboys on her way out of the diner.
• • •
I went to the park just long enough to see that Rosé was indeed back out of her coma. I doubted she was actually over the situation with Haein, but sometimes you have to pretend to be feeling better to actually feel better. It's why new workout clothes make you feel like you want to work out.
I was still waiting for that one to turn out to be true . . .
I begged off staying the whole afternoon on the grounds that I had a Wallbanger in my bed, which needed no further explanation. As I turned the corner onto my street after hopping off the trolley, I thought about what Jisoo had said earlier, about needing to see Jaehyun every day. They could easily do that: Both had jobs in the city and rarely traveled for work. Jisoo was a professional organizer, helping families declutter and clean up, while Jaehyun headed up a nonprofit that helped put computers into schools in low-income areas.
Would I like to see Lisa every day? Of course I would—the speed bump abs alone are worth the price of admission. But more than that, we just . . . worked well together. There was an ease to our relationship that I had never had with anyone else, maybe because we became friends first. And while we had our share of raised eyebrows like every couple, we rarely fought. Maybe because we spent less time together than regular couples.
I shook my head as I walked up my stairs. It didn't matter why we worked, we just did. And since Lisa would continue to be in demand professionally, we'd continue to make it work long-distance. I liked the idea of an unconventional romance, especially since the beginning of ours was so much so.
I'd been on a dating freeze after a one-night stand with He Who Shall Not Be Named (read Kai Jongin) scared my orgasm into hiding, disappearing from the earth entirely. Going, going, gone it was; no good-bye, no nice knowing you. Just gone. I'd attempted to recover the O by bringing back a few tried-and-true partners, but no go. And of course I'd tried to reconnect by using the Holy Trinity of Fantasy Lovers (the Leto, the Damon, and the Holy Clooney), but even by my own hand, the O had left the building. Finally Lisa and I were able to conjure her again in a poof of flour on the floor of my kitchen, surrounded by raisins and honey.
And speaking of unconventional, Lisa had never dated anyone in the traditional sense. When I met her she was king of the Friends with Benefits scenario, with an actual harem. As Lisa and I were becoming friends in those early days, she'd confided that all the women she'd ever dated seemed to want the same thing: a white picket fence. I convinced her that in fact not all women want that, especially this woman in particular. I'd told her, "The right woman for you wouldn't want you to change anything about your life. She wouldn't rock your boat, she'd jump right in and sail it with you."
I used to date someone who wanted me to be his picket fencer, his own personal Mrs. Stepford. Or Mrs. James Brown, in this scenario. Lawyer, not Godfather of Soul, to be clear.
Picket fences? Thanks, but no thanks. I liked my life, I liked our life—it was pretty great.
A perfect example was our living situation. As I put the key in my lock, I looked across the landing to her apartment door. When she was home we tended to spend most of our time at my place, but I liked that we still had our own apartments. I'd lived with roommates most of my adult life, and even though I was technically subletting from Jillian (no way would I ever be able to afford this amazing apartment without her rent control), it was still my own space.
Which I shared with a very particular feline. I let myself in, looking around for Luca but not seeing him. I had an idea where he might be, though. Kicking off my shoes, I padded quietly back to the bedroom, peeking my head around the door.
Tucked into the one corner of the bed I typically allowed her was Lisa, still sleeping off her long trip home. Curled into a ball behind Lisa's knees, Luca opened one eye and registered that I was home. He flicked one ear and stretched his back out, tucking himself tighter into his favorite spot.
I whispered, "Hiya, Luca, how's my sweet—"
He cut me off with a quiet but very curt meow.
And he gave me a very specific look, letting me know that my babies needed their sleep and I should leave well enough alone. I chuckled to myself as Lisa let out a loud snore, then backed away. Luca remained behind Lisa's knees.
Lisa's Knees . . . What a great name for a band.
While the babies slept I did some laundry, I worked on some sketches for the new hotel project, and I baked. Baking centered me, helped me focus and see my way around corners, especially when I was working on something new. Two loaves of zucchini bread later, I was perched on the kitchen island with a colored pencil in my mouth when I heard shuffling.
Lisa came into the kitchen, nose first. I caught my breath, almost inhaling my pencil when I saw her in her loose pajama bottoms, sports bra, rumpled hair, and sleepy expression. I knew if I pressed my face into the exact center of her chest, she'd smell like Downy and warm. Heart, as always, skipped a beat.
"Zucchini?" she asked while sniffing the air, her eyes still at half-mast but scanning for bread. Her eyes weren't the only thing at half-mast . . .
"Zucchini," I affirmed, nodding my head.
A slow grin crept across her face; nothing could make her happier than homemade bread. Well, almost nothing.
"You want some?" I asked.
She walked toward me, and the bread behind me, with a determined look on her face. "You're kidding, right?" she asked, uncrossing my legs so she could stand between them. "I always want some."
"Are we still talking about zucchini bread?" I asked, as her hands dug into my hips. Sliding me closer to the edge suddenly, she pressed a wet kiss below my ear.
"I'm hungry, yes," she whispered, in a voice that instantly told my thighs to part. "And the zucchini bread can wait."
I moaned. I mean, of course I moaned.
Gone in sixty seconds was everything under my apron, which was flipped up and out of her way. To her knees she went, pulling my hips exactly to the edge of the counter, my legs roughly thrown over her shoulders.
"Christ Lisa, what brought this—oh!"
I lost my train of thought as her open mouth pressed against me, her tongue strong and searching. With one lick, I was close. With a second lick, I was close to stupid.
With the third . . . Here's the funny thing about my orgasm. Once I got out of my own way, she was happy to come. Ahem.
"Oh God, you . . . that's . . . so . . . wow . . . mmm," I moaned. She moved, I moved. She pulsed, I twitched. She plunged, I . . . Oh, hell. I flailed.
"Responsive, aren't you?" she murmured, raising her head and wickedly licking her lips. I threaded my hands through her hair and not so gently pushed her back down.
"If you stop now I'll kill you with this egg timer," I managed, grabbing for the only thing that was nearby. Which I dropped as soon as she returned to me, my breathing fast and impossible to control. I dug my heels into her back, shamelessly flexing my hips to bring her closer to where I needed her. Giving a long lick to the inside of each of my thighs, she splayed her hands under and around my hips, holding me still as best she could and opening me further to her.
"Like I could stop? Don't you know I dream about this when I'm away?" She asked, nudging me with her nose, exactly where I needed her mouth to be.
"You . . . dream about . . . this?" I asked, arching my back. I was so close, so very close.
"Fuck, yes, are you kidding?" she flattened her tongue and dragged it across my entire sex, dipping inside and continuing up, closing her mouth now and encircling me with her lips. Releasing me with a groan of her own, she brought one hand down, using her fingers to press into me. "I think about this, and the sounds you make when you come, the way you taste. Mmm . . . sweet Jennie, you drive me crazy."
Her words swirled my thoughts. I leaned up on my elbows, skin on fire, my fuzzy gaze on this gorgeous man, this shockingly gorgeous woman, with her mouth on me. Riding her hand, my hips undulated as her tongue and lips consumed me. Her eyes burning into mine, I gasped when my orgasm hit me like a freight train. Shaking, I fell back onto the counter.
She stood, one hand continuing to caress my skin as I shuddered, the other pushing her pajama bottoms down. She ran her fist up and down her length, then pressed inside me, but just barely. Her head dropped back as she wrapped her hands around my hips, using my weight as leverage as she slowly . . . sank . . . inside.
She was perfectly still.
I was perfectly not.
I simply couldn't be. It was too much; she was too much. I would never get used to the feeling of her inside me, stretching me and filling me and being perfectly there. I thrashed, I shimmied, I arched and I flexed. And she stayed perfectly still. The muscles in her arms bunched, her neck corded, her torso gleamed with the sweet strain of not moving. She was like a naughty work of art.
Then she lifted her head and opened her eyes. Singularly focused, dark, and of one mind-set.
Lisa was about to fuck.
Pulling out almost entirely, she thrust low. And hard. And serious.
And I came out of my skin.
She rode me, rode my body and my sex, and when she leaned heavy over me and chanted the dirtiest words imaginable in my ear, I came again. Right as she came. Low. And hard. And so serious.
Wrapping my arms around her, I kept her inside as long as I could. Even when she lifted me off the counter I fought that loss, keeping my legs around her waist as she laughed. She unraveled me, threw me over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and slapped my bottom.
She then ate an entire loaf of zucchini bread with her pants around her ankles while she leaned on the counter, resting her head on my bottom.
• • •
"So remind me to never stop baking for you," I said fifteen minutes later, when I was finally allowed to put my pants back on and start cleaning up the kitchen.
Wrapping my arms around her, I kept her inside as long as I could. Even when she lifted me off the counter I fought that loss, keeping my legs around her waist as she laughed. She unraveled me, threw me over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and slapped my bottom.
She then ate an entire loaf of zucchini bread with her pants around her ankles while she leaned on the counter, resting her head on my bottom.
"Doubtful. It's a mutually beneficial kind of thing, obviously."
"I should say." She smirked as I poured her some coffee and marched her over to the sofa. "Why am I on the couch?"
"Because I'm cleaning and you're in the way. Plus you just got back, so let me fawn over you a little."
"But mainly because I was in the way, right?"
"Right." I grabbed a broom and swept up some raisins. Luca had spirited a few away already; I imagined I'd find those in bed later tonight. He loved to hide them one by one. I'd stopped asking questions.
Lisa relaxed on the couch, watching me sweep and commenting when my backside looked particularly fetching. Looking over the rim of her coffee cup, she asked, "Hey, what were you doing sketching on a Saturday? You gotta work today?"
"Kinda sorta."
"Kinda sorta?"
"Yeah, a big job that Jillian put me on. We're bidding on it next week, and if I get this job it'll mean . . . Well, it'd be a big deal." I hesitated, not even wanting to say it out loud. This would be big giant balls big.
"That's great! What kind of job?"
"A hotel in Sausalito. Jillian's given me the lead on it, due to the wedding and her honeymoon. So yeah, big week at work." I finished the sweeping and threw the raisins into the trash. Grabbing my sketchbook, I headed into the living room and sat next to her, propping my feet in her lap.
"Sounds big. That's good, babe."
"Plus, I'm kind of taking over while they're on their honeymoon. I'm gonna be swamped."
"You can handle it. I'm proud of you."
"Well, be proud of me if I get the job. Till then it's just a bid. But fingers crossed, right?" I laughed, lying back against the cushions as she rubbed my heel.
"I have a good feeling about this. Maybe we'll have something to celebrate next week," she said, wiggling my big toe. "Speaking of celebrations, how'd you like to come to Rio with me this December?"
Whuh?
I say again, whuh?
"I love when you drop your consonants," she murmured, scooting closer and leaning over me.
"I said that out loud?"
"You sure did."
"Okay. Well, then, answer my whuh."
"No one on the planet has ever said that exact sentence before." She chuckled, drawing a line with her fingertip down my nose and pressing it against my mouth.
"Rio? In December?" I mumbled.
"For Christmas."
"Whuh?"
As she laughed, I scrambled up from beneath her. "Explain, please."
"Nothing to explain. I booked a job in Brazil—I'll be working in Rio on Christmas. I want my best girl with me."
Christmas in Brazil. Sultry warm ocean breeze. Sipping caipirinhas under festival lanterns. Coconut oil. Bikini. Lisa.
Second Christmas away from home in a row?
I flashed back to Christmases past, growing up. I had a favorite aunt and uncle— doesn't everyone? Technically my great-aunt and -uncle, Liz and Lou were legends in our family. They never had kids, and whether that was by design or nature, I never knew; no one ever talked about that. But they led a life that I had always dreamed of.
They traveled every year, and I mean they traveled. Uncle Lou made good money, invested wisely, and when he retired at sixty-five they hit the road. They owned a home in San Diego, but they just used it as a base. They had friends all over the world and spent time in places like Madrid, Athens, Rome, Lisbon, Amsterdam, Caracas, and São Paulo. Rio de Janeiro. They took off whenever they wanted, and went wherever the wind told them to go. They were only occasionally around for Christmas, and I was always excited to see where my present would come from each year, what faraway place the postage would be from.
Did they love their family less because they chose to travel across the globe for Christmas? I never thought so, although some of the more traditional members of the family felt it was strange and a little selfish that they didn't want to be singing carols at my grandmother's and eating turkey with everyone else.
I thought it was romantic, exciting, and a little wonderful.
They passed away a few years ago, within three months of each other. After they died I was helping to go through some of their things and I came across their passports. They were battered, worn, and stamped with cities all across the globe, some of which I had never heard of.
And when I went to Salzburg last year to keep Lisa company on Christmas, I didn't feel selfish or strange. I thought it was romantic, exciting, and more than a little wonderful. Furthest thing from traditional, but maybe a Lisa and Jennie tradition?
I mentally calculated whether my additional work responsibilities would allow me to take time off. The holidays were a busy period for us, but the week between Christmas and New Year's was pretty manageable. This invite was out of the blue, but not out of the world of the possible.
I began to hum "The Girl from Ipanema," a grin slowly spreading across my face.
"Is that a yes to Rio?" she asked.
"It's a hell yes, Wallbanger—hell yes to Rio!" I squealed, wrapping my legs around her waist and seeing the look of excitement on her face before I brought her down for a big, wet kiss. Last year, I invited myself along. This year, she wanted me with her. Fuck, I loved this girl.
We kissed for a moment, then she went back to her side of the couch and resumed my foot rub and I went back to my sketching.
A few minutes later, I got a text. I snorted, then told Lisa, "Hey, this just in from Wedding Central. You need to get measured for your tux, pronto. Jillian said you and Benjamin are supposed to go together; she's freaking out."
"I know—best mate and all; I need to look good." She rolled her eyes.
When Benjamin asked Lisa to stand up for him at the wedding, it was kind of perfect. Since I was one of Jillian's bridesmaids.
"You'll look good, no one is worried about that." I laughed as she tickled the bottoms of my feet. "The one that I'm worried about is Rosé. She's out of her funk as of this morning, and ready to buy the sexiest dress she can find for this shindig."
"Mmm-hmm," she replied, concentrating on my instep.
"I think she really just wants to make sure that she'll look good if Haein comes, you know? I mean, is he coming? For sure?"
"Mmm-hmm," she replied again, the tiniest of crinkles appearing on her forehead. I let her rub my feet for another minute.
"So, is he bringing anyone to the wedding?" I asked in the most nonchalant tone possible.
"Jennie," she warned.
"What? If he's bringing someone, that's something that would be good to know ahead of time, don't you think? It's not like you're betraying the guy code just by telling me if he's bringing anyone, right?" I asked, poking her in the belly with my big toe, eliciting a smile.
"Yes, he's bringing someone," she allowed, watching my face carefully. I breathed out just as carefully.
"Okay, see, that wasn't so bad, was it?" I asked, pushing my foot under her hand again. She resumed her kneading. I let one minute go by.
"So, is she pretty?"
"Not gonna do this," she said, lifting my feet off her lap and standing up.
"What? I'm just asking if she's pretty," I insisted as she turned back toward me.
"I've told you, this is not something we can talk about. You get too worked up to be rational, and I—"
"I get worked up? Of course I get worked up! My best friend had her heart ripped out because your best friend was an idiot who cheated on her, and—"
"For the last time, he didn't cheat!" she snapped.
"Kissing is cheating! Of course it's cheating!" I snapped back, standing up to face her.
"He kissed an ex-girlfriend once—it happened once. And he told her. He didn't have to tell her about it at all! He could've kept it from her, but he told her!"
"Oh, now he's supposed to get points for that? For telling her after he cheats on her?" I cried.
When I said Lisa and I didn't fight, we really didn't. Except for this one thing.
So here's the full story. When Haein's ex-girlfriend came to town and their dinner ended with the kiss, Haein told Rosé about it, and she left. And since then, she's refused to talk to him, refused to see him, refused to have anything to do with him. Erased e-mails and deleted texts. She didn't want him to try and explain anything, because in her mind there was nothing to explain.
The problem is that all of the guys agreed that what Haein did, wrong as it was, wasn't enough to break up over. Of course, the girls all agreed that kissing was cheating: dicks didn't need to be inserted for it to be cheating. Rosé had every right to end things with Haein, and as the cheater, he didn't get much say in how it went down.
Hence the arguments.
Jisoo and Jaehyun had fought over this as well; it was something that everyone had an opinion on. Opinions that Lisa and I had agreed weren't worth sharing, since it made us argue every time we talked about it, yet the subject kept bubbling up.
What was cheating? Where was that line that, if crossed, you couldn't come back from? Was it different for every couple, or was it black and white?
"He doesn't get points for it. That's not what I meant, and you know that—"
"That kind of thing doesn't just happen, Lisa. He made a choice—"
"A kiss! And that had to end everything? What about Rosé? She won't even give the guy a chance to explain, she—"
"There's nothing to explain, don't you get that?" I yelled, throwing my sketchbook across the room.
Quiet.
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," I mumbled, crossing the room to pick up my book. She caught my hand as I walked by.
"This is exactly why I didn't want to talk about this from the beginning. There's no right or wrong here"—she raised her fingers to my lips when I started to explain that yes, in fact there is—"or at least it's a gray area. But no matter what it is, it's not worth us getting in a fight over, right?"
I sighed, letting her pull me into her chest. I pressed my face into the exact center. The scent of Downy calmed me.
"Right."
She held me tight.
"I love you," she told the top of my head.
"Love you too."
Being half of a "we" is sometimes hard.