Authors: Lauren Rowe
Maddy’s face falls. “What do you mean?”
“No, I mean, you’re funny. Really funny. I just meant he was laying it on awfully thick, that’s all. Going a bit overboard with the yucks.”
Maddy clenches her jaw and turns toward the candy rack again. “Wow, you sure know how to make a girl feel fantastic.” She purses her lips. “Okay, I don’t see Junior Mints, either.” Her voice is tight. “I guess Milk Duds will have to work extra hard for us ’til we can get to a supermarket.” She grabs a box of Milk Duds off the shelf.
“You seriously don’t think that guy was interested in bonin’ the fuck outta ya?”
“Would you stop saying that? Please, Keane. It’s gross.”
“What’s gross? Those particular words or the act of someone bonin’ the fuck outta ya?”
“Both.”
“Getting boned is gross? Oh, shit, no wonder you’ve been going steady with Jesus lately.”
“Keane! Stop it. That’s not what I meant. Sex isn’t gross to me. Not at all. I meant the idea of sex with
Brian
is gross because I wasn’t attracted to him in that way and I need to feel both an emotional
and
physical connection to a guy to even think about letting him ‘bone the fuck outta me.’” She makes a weird face.
“First time you’ve ever said those words in your entire life, huh?”
“And, regardless, Brian
definitely
wasn’t attracted to me—he was just being helpful and nice—so whether he wanted to ‘bone the fuck outta me’ or not is a moot point, anyway.” She makes that same weird face again.
“It was no easier saying it the second time around, was it?”
She scowls at me.
“Okay, now I totally understand the source of your wicked dry spell, honey muffin. You’re deaf, dumb and blind when it comes to reading a guy’s signals.”
“No, I’m not. I have zero trouble reading a guy’s signals—and in this instance, the signal Brian was sending me loud and cuh-lear was ‘fuh-riend zone.’”
“No way. That dude was sending you a ‘buh-hone zone’ signal all the way to Pompei, Beyoncé.”
“No freakin’ way to Bombay, Pelé.”
I chuckle. “So why’d you give him your number, then?”
“Because I know all of two people in L.A.—my sister and her boyfriend, Henn—and I’m probably gonna be, you know, a little lonely at school until I can make some friends. At least this way, I’ll have some social interaction to look forward to in a few weeks, just in case I haven’t made any friends by then.”
“Well, of course, you’ll have friends in a whole
month
, Mad Dog. Oh my God, you’ll have more friends than you could shake a stick at.”
Maddy’s eyes flicker with obvious anxiety. “Not necessarily,” she says softly. “Not everyone’s like you, Keane.”
My chest suddenly feels tight. “Hey, don’t sell yourself short, sweetheart,” I say. I take a step toward her and push a stray hair away from her pretty face. “Trust me, your dance card’s gonna be completely filled within a week, I guarantee it.” I look into Maddy’s brown eyes for a beat, and then let my gaze take in the entirety of her pretty face. Wow, I hadn’t noticed until just now how beautiful Maddy’s lips are.
Oh, fuck.
I abruptly lower my hand from Maddy’s hair and jerk my body away from hers, clearing my throat. “And, hey, if not, then, great job, Helen Keller: you just made yourself a burger-date with a guy who wants to bone the livin’ fuck outta ya.”
Maddy socks me in the shoulder. “Stop it.”
“Ow.” I rub my shoulder. “You’re mean.”
“Well, you’re annoying.” She socks me again. “And you’re a
dickweed
.”
I rub my shoulder again. “Hey, I strongly prefer to be called ‘flaming asshole,’ please.”
“Oh, I’m saving that one for the next time you say something that forces me to punch you.” She lets out a grunt. “Please stop needling me about Brian, okay? It was nice talking to him, that’s all—he helped calm my jangly nerves about school. I’m excited about starting a brand new school, for sure, but I’m nervous as hell about it, too.”
“Aw, don’t be nervous, sweet thing. You’re gonna do great. You’re the Steve Jobs of documentary filmmaking, remember?”
Maddy twists her mouth adorably. “Look, the bottom line about Brian is that, even if he were into me, which he’s
not
, he won’t be ‘bonin’ the fuck outta me’ because
I’m
not into
him
.” She makes another weird hand gesture, like she’s banishing me to the hinterlands of hell. “And that’s the last thing I’m gonna say on the topic of Brian or ‘bonin’.’” She abruptly walks away from me to the end of the aisle, and I follow her. “Do you see popcorn?” she asks, looking at a shelf filled with bags of potato chips and pretzels. “Oh, here it is. You like it plain or flavored, baby doll? What’s your
pleasure
?”
I grab a bag of white-cheddar popcorn off the shelf. “In honor of my beloved wife. Zander and I have made some beautiful memories together while eating this stuff.”
“Great,” Maddy says, grabbing another bag of popcorn off the shelf. “I’m all in favor of honoring your beloved wife any chance we get.” She looks at the items in her hands. “So are we good with popcorn and Milk Duds, or will we be breaking the law if we don’t have Junior Mints, too?”
“Are we in Oregon yet?” I ask.
“We crossed the border an hour ago.”
“Okay, then we’re good,” I say, loping back down the aisle toward the candy. “There’s a little-known
exception
to the law requiring the consumption of popcorn, Milk Duds, and Junior Mints while watching a movie, applicable only in the state of Oregon, that says chocolate peanut butter cups can be substituted for Junior Mints in a verified emergency.” I hold up a bright orange package of chocolate peanut butter cups. “But
only
when the chocolate peanut butter cups are consumed by a sensitive, pretty girl with a boner for gender equality and an intense sexual attraction to Jesus, and only while she watches a kick-ass documentary about basketball, unrequited love, and gender inequality with a dude with blue hair, ebullient charm, and killer dimples.” I flash her my dimples.
“Wowza,” Maddy says, laughing. “That’s a
really
specific law.”
“Yeah,” I say. “We got lucky this time. If we were still in Washington, they’d probably lock us up and throw away the key.”
“Well, then, we shouldn’t tempt fate,” Maddy says. “First chance we get, let’s stop at a grocery store and stock up on all necessary supplies. God only knows what the law will be once we cross into California tomorrow.”
“Good idea,” I say.
Maddy’s mouth twists, just for a beat, like she’s trying her damnedest not to smile. “You’re annoying, you know that?” she says.
“I’ve heard that a time or two. So you ready to buy this grub-a-dub-dub and hit the road, sweet thing?” I ask. “Or are we gonna spend our whole vacation standing in this godforsaken minimart?”
A beaming smile spreads across the full width of Maddy’s pretty face. “Hell no, we’re not gonna spend our whole
vacation
standing in this godforsaken minimart, sugar lips,” she says. “Let’s roll.”
Chapter 17
Keane
“So why aren’t you into Brian?” I ask, propping the minimart door open for Maddy with one arm while holding our bags of popcorn and candy in the other.
“Aw, come on!” Maddy throws up her hands and quickens her pace toward her car. “Obsess much?”
“I’m just curious,” I say, following closely behind her. “Brian was a handsome enough dude; you said yourself he was ‘nice and helpful’; and he was clearly sportin’ major wood for you. So why wouldn’t you at least give him a shot? Not everyone can be as perfect as your boyfriend Jesus, you know.”
“Yeah, Keane, I require guys to emulate the son of God to get a burger date with me,” she says, rolling her eyes. We’ve reached her car and she digs into her purse for her keys. “I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned that my recent foray into abstinence hasn’t been intentional.”
“So why not give this Brian dude a shot?”
“Because I either feel physical chemistry with a guy or I don’t. And I didn’t feel it with him.”
Maddy unlocks her car and we pile inside.
“Yeah, but maybe physical chemistry can develop over time,” I say, stowing the bag of junk food on the floor next to my feet.
“I don’t think so.”
“No?”
“Not in my experience. Hang on.” She holds up her hand. “Silence while I back out, please.”
I bite my lip and remain quiet as Maddy slowly backs her car out of its parking spot, furrowing her brow as she does.
“Thank you,” she says when she’s got her car free and clear of the gas station and we’re headed down the road toward the freeway on-ramp.
“You’re an excellent driver, Rainman,” I say.
“Why, thank you. Okay, on further reflection, I’d like to amend my last statement. I
do
think physical chemistry can increase or decrease the more you get to know someone, but what I’m looking for is something different than gambling on there being a gradual increase of attraction. I want that smacks-you-in-the-face, undeniable, heart-racing, all-consuming
heat
with someone, you know? And I don’t think that kind of attraction develops over time. Do you?”
I consider my answer for a moment. “No. Or, at least, it’s never happened to me. That kind of thing is pretty much instantaneous—you either got it with someone or you don’t.”
“Exactly.”
“So what’s missing with Brian, you think?” I open one of the three bags of popcorn we bought at the minimart.
“You’re
hungry
?” Maddy asks, incredulous.
“Snacky.”
“But you just ate enough food to feed a small army.”
“That’s because
I’m
a small army, sweetheart.” I flex my arm. “Ka-bam, son! It takes a lot to keep this body looking like manna from heaven.”
“So you keep telling me.”
I hold the bag of popcorn out to her. “You want some, honey biscuits? It’s delish.”
“No, thanks, sugar booty. I’m still stuffed from lunch like any normal person would be.”
“Suit yourself. So, what’s wrong with Brian, you think? Why no fireworks?”
“Nothing’s
wrong
with him. Wait, yeah, I changed my mind. Send that bag over here, hot stuff.” She motions to the popcorn bag and I hand it to her. “It’s not something that can be explained logically,” she says, chomping a handful of popcorn. “He’s cute. Nice. Funny. On paper, he seems like the perfect guy for me to pursue. I just don’t go for jock types, I guess. I dunno. Who the frickity-frack knows why anyone feels attraction to one person and not another?” She dives into the bag again.
“Good stuff, huh?”
“Dangerously addicting.”
“It’s Z’s favorite.” I take another huge handful. “Yeah, Brian’s definitely a jock type. I’m guessing O-line.”
“
O-line
? Is that a some sort of sexual reference?”
“Oh, for the love of God, woman. Have you never watched a football game in your life?
Offensive line
, babe. You know, the guys who protect the quarterback?”
“Ooooooh.” Maddy snorts. “That’s funny. I thought it was some slang I’m too dorky to know about. Okay. Well, whatever. The point is Brian was sweet and nice but, for whatever reason, he didn’t make my pulse race. And I’ve recently decided I’m not interested in any guy who can’t make my pulse race right off the bat.”
“A guy has to make your pulse
race
right from the get-go or he’s shit out of luck with you? Dude, that’s a pretty tall order, don’t you think? Can’t a guy be kinda nice and moderately good-looking and then, if things seem to be going well, you jump into the sack with him to see where things might lead?”
Maddy scoffs. “Do
you
sleep with girls who are ‘kinda nice’ and ‘moderately good-looking’, just to ‘see where things might lead’?”
I consider that briefly. “No. Never.”
“Of course, not. Because you want to feel intense physical chemistry, right away. Why bother otherwise?”
“Well, yeah, but I’ve got my pick of all the pickles in the world. Why should I settle for a pickle who doesn’t give me a raging woody from minute one?”
“So you’re implying
I
don’t have my pick of pickles the way you do?”
I laugh. “Pick of pickles.”
“Pick of pickles,” she repeats, and we both laugh. “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pickles because he had his pick of pickled pickles to prick with his pickled pecker,” she adds.
I laugh my ass off. “Say that again.”
She does.
“Oh my God, Maddy. I gotta get that on video. I’d never be able to describe that to Z.” I pull out my phone.
“No, Keane.” She puts her hand up. “I don’t like being on camera.”
“Come on, baby doll. For me and Z. I won’t post it or anything like that, I promise. That was just too cute not to
document
.”
She puts down her hand. “Fine. For you and Z only. I hate being on camera.”
“Thank you. It’s just how I am, baby.
I
.
Must
.
Document
.” I press the button to record. “Okay, action.”
Maddy repeats her pickled tongue twister and I laugh just as hard again.
“Got it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You know what that reminds me of? When Z sent you that dick-pick, I said, ‘Hey, Z, you can’t send a dick-pick to a
chick
,’ and then we both lost our minds because we thought ‘dick-pick to a chick’ was so fucking funny. Z called it the social-media edition of ‘Old MacDonald Had a Farm’: ‘Dick-pick to a chick-chick, everywhere a dick-pic—”
“E-i-e-i-o,” Maddy sings, and we both burst out laughing.
“Oh man, it’s still funny as hell to me and I’m not even stoned.”
“I think it’s hilarious.”
“My brother Ryan didn’t think it was funny
at all
.”
“Sounds like Ryan wouldn’t know funny if it bit him in the ass, son.” She throws up her hand to me without taking her eyes off the road and I side-high-five her.
“See? That’s why I love you the most, Maddy Milliken—because you’re funny as hell.”