Page 49 of Keep It Together

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

“Not really. I’m a little thirsty.”

She pulled down the sleeves of her oversized sweater onto her hands and shivered.

“You’re cold.”

“We were just outside. Don’t worry about it. I’ll warm up.” She sank into my couch, and I jogged back to a hallway closet and grabbed the coziest blanket I could find, tossing it so it landed right on top of her. Then I went to the kitchen and got her a glass of water.

She took the glass from me and drank it down in two long gulps before placing it on one of the coasters on the end table behind the couch. “You’re the best, Isaac. Come share.”

I shrugged out of my jacket and sat down next to her, and she immediately scooted closer and draped the blanket over both of us. It was what a good friend would do, but it was also torturous, because she smelled great, and she was soft and warm, and so very Carmen.

“Tell me about the terrorist you went out with,” she whispered. Her hands came around my bicep in my long-sleeved tee, and she looked up at me with her big brown eyes, swirls of chocolate I could get lost in. I longed to bury my face in the sweet curve of her neck and breathe her in. If there was ever a test of the friendship boundaries I’d promised, it was right now with her on my couch.

“She’s one of those people who gets offended easily and needs the world to know. Also, she thinks frozen yogurt is better than ice cream.”

“That is a food crime, but then, I think yellow mustard should go on just about everything, so who am I to judge?”

“Define everything.” I was a mustard fan myself, but I had my limits.

“Grilled cheese? Um, sometimes tacos. Oh, I really like it on Ritz crackers with avocado and a slice of cheddar cheese.”

“We can’t be friends anymore.”

Carmen shook her head. “Too bad. I’m like the pesky neighbor on a sitcom. Can’t get rid of me.”

“Okay, fine. You can stay, Urkel.”

“Who?”

“He’s the king of pesky neighbors. You forget, I’ve watched every old sitcom there is, thanks to my lady friends next door. Kimmy Gibler ring a bell?”

“Yes, but back to this easily offended thing. Is that why your date was so short? She got offended?” Carmen’s fingers followed the curve of my muscles on my arm in ways that were highly distracting, but she stopped abruptly and tucked her hands back into her lap. I didn’t dare call her out on it, secretly hoping she might forget and do it again. If there was ever a workout reward, this was it.

“Yeah, she got offended. The date ended when she dumped her frozen yogurt into my chest.”

Carmen stared at me. “Okay, start at the beginning.”

So, I told her everything, and she told me how Titan thought she was into cosplay, and somehow that led into me telling her about the Phoenix Comic Con convention I went to with Dean when we were seniors in high school. We had agreed to come up with costumes to embarrass each other, and I won with elf ears and a silky blond wig. He wouldn’t even stand next to me. Bonus? It got me several girls’ numbers.

“When did you meet Dean?” she asked.

I paused.

“There’s a story there.”

“Yes.”

“I like stories.”

Somehow, her feet had drifted to rest on top of mine. She had on fuzzy socks; I could feel the softness of them through my plain white athletic ones. We’d both ditched our shoes to get fully under the blanket, and our heads were tilted together, but I focused my thoughts on what she was asking and not how good it felt to have her so close and cuddly.

“My mom almost married Dean’s dad.”

“Henry?”

“Yes. This was after her divorce from my stepdad. But she was skittish, and so was he.”