15. Jo

Playlist: This Kiss, Faith Hill

Hunter and I kissed a week and a half ago. A week and a half ago, I let myself believe I was worth loving, worth kissing passionately.

I didn’t tell Hunter, but Kelsey had told me I wasn’t a good kisser. I’m still not sure what that meant, and despite googling how to be a good kisser repeatedly, I never got it quite right.

There were never any passionate makeouts between us. Kissing felt like a chore, one I dreaded, because I knew she’d look miserable when we pulled apart.

Hunter has me thinking that maybe kissing isn’t supposed to be like that. Maybe kissing is supposed to be enjoyable in itself.

Or maybe it’s just her. She’s Hunter, after all; being a hype girl and making people feel good is what she naturally does.

Or maybe it’s me. Maybe she likes me .

No . I can’t let myself think like that. If I think like that, I’m just asking to be hurt.

“Just thinking like that is asking to be hurt? Not any of the other stuff you’re doing?” Alena asks innocently, taking a sip of tea.

I roll my eyes and reach behind me to adjust the pillows on my bed. “Do you not like this plan, Alena? Please, elaborate. You haven’t mentioned it before.”

She scowls at me as she dunks her teabag in her mug, lifting it up to the camera. “Read it.”

I sigh heavily but read the words on the mug out loud. “I am a therapist. Let’s just assume I’m never wrong.”

“Bingo. And let's assume I’m doubly right about this, because you don’t need a Masters Degree to see this is headed straight toward disaster.”

“It’s not!” I argue.

“How do you feel about Hunter?” Alena asks, taking a sip from her personal attack of a mug.

“Hunter?”

“Hunter. Your fake girlfriend?” she elaborates, lowering the mug.

Shit. That’s a good question. How do I feel about Hunter? I haven’t really let myself linger on that.

I chew on my bottom lip. “I think she’s genuine. Like what you see with her is exactly what you get. She has no filter, which is sometimes annoying, but also refreshing as hell. Sometimes it’s randomly saying something kind. Like today she told me no one brews Earl Grey like me, and it’s silly as fuck, but that made me feel good? Nobody’s ever really just…said nice things to say nice things to me before.” I shrug.

“So she’s your friend?” Alena asks.

“Yeah,” I say slowly. “She is. We’ve been spending more time together to make it seem more natural when we’re in front of Becky and Kelsey.”

“And what happens when this fake relationship ends?” Alena asks, tilting her head thoughtfully.

I haven’t let myself think that far in advance. I know it has to end, because that’s kind of the point of everything. To sell it to Kelsey and Becky and move on.

But what happens when it ends?

After the cross-stitch fiasco, Hunter taught me to crochet. Who am I going to show my finished granny square blanket when I complete it if it ends?

“I don’t know,” I admit, picking at my cuticle.

“Will it hurt if your friendship can’t continue? If you have to move on?”

“Who says that has to happen?”

“How else do you see the fake relationship ending?” Alena asks, raising an eyebrow. “Especially if Hunter thinks it’s all fake. Ask her what her expectations are for after the wedding, when you no longer have to convince people you’re dating.”

I slump back against the pillows. “I hate that.”

She smiles softly. “I know you do. But that’s your homework this week.”

I groan melodramatically. “Thanks, I hate that even more.”

Alena chuckles. “If you liked what I told you to do, would I even be a therapist?” She takes another sip from her ‘I’m always right’ mug and I roll my eyes.

When my session is over, I grab my bag and ready myself for dinner and game night at Nic and Josh’s. I knock on the office door before opening it and seeing Hunter in her natural habitat.

She’s sitting in her desk chair, her left leg bent so that her chin is resting on her knee. Dolly Parton snoozes on the desk in her mini bed that I found on Etsy, and Hunter wears her ginormous noise-canceling pink headphones. She’s humming along to what I’m pretty sure is a twenty-year-old Faith Hill song as she stares intently at the computer screen, clicking on different images, working her magic to make them just right.

Friends . Are Hunter and I friends? I don’t really have friends, unless you count Josh and Nellie, and really I’m only friends with them through Nic. I work too much to let that happen, and I’ve forced myself to believe that my friendship is a burden due to my depression and diabetes. I also have enough siblings that I rarely feel the need to let anyone who doesn’t share my DNA get too close.

But then there’s Hunter, who somehow wormed her way back into my life. Who I tried to keep at a safe distance.

I think she’s become a friend.

Hunter does a double take when she sees my reflection in her monitor. She spins in her chair to face me, lowering her headphones. “Hey! Is it time to go?”

I nod. “Just about. I can text them if you need more time.”

She bites her lip and looks over her shoulder at the monitor. “I got distracted and spent most of the day reading and finally was able to hyperfocus like an hour ago…”

My heart sinks. “I mean…it’s okay if you can’t go,” I say, trying to hide the disappointment I feel.

“No, I’m coming. I want to beat Josh’s ass at Monopoly.”

“I thought you liked Josh?” We’ve hung out with Nic and Josh several times since she joined the book club, and she and Josh seem to get along.

“Oh, I like Josh plenty. But if he gets the last word or wins you get cranky.” She stands, gathering Dolly Parton in her arms.

I blink at her a few times. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. And it’s kinda funny most of the time but we have the bridal shower from hell tomorrow, and I have to keep you from having a total breakdown somehow.” She kisses the top of Dolly’s head, making high pitched cooing noises as the reptile sleepily opens her eyes.

“Aw, so you’re going to make him regret ever being born?”

She looks at me, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Worse.”

I stare at her as she walks out of the room, stroking Dolly Parton’s back the same way a supervillain strokes their hairless cat. “I don’t know what that means. Also, are you sure it’s okay if you don’t finish your edits tonight?”

She shrugs without looking back at me. “I don’t have any plans this weekend.”

“None?”

“Well, the bridal shower…which I know you worked really hard on so I’m sure it’s going to be great. So great.”

“The theme is ‘queer chic’ and it’s going to be ugly as fuck,” I tell her. “But what about Sunday and Monday?”

She shrugs again. “Nothing. So it’ll make editing easy.”

“I think I mentioned it before, but I’m going to Port Haven for dinner on Sunday and a barbecue for the holiday on Monday. You should come.”

“Do you think your family would mind?” Hunter asks. “What do they know about this weird ass situation?”

“I haven’t talked to them, but they’re used to extra people showing up without notice. I’m guessing Nic’s told them we’re fake dating, since she can’t keep her mouth shut.” I pause. “There’s probably a secret group chat without me and everything.”

“Oh,” Hunter says, chewing on her lower lip as she mulls it over. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be imposing?”

“Never. Aria DelPresti Quinn makes enough food for twice the amount of people she expects for an event. I’ll let them know, but I’m certain they won’t mind.”

“That sounds kind of fun,” Hunter says, seemingly shocked by her own answer. “I didn’t realize you wouldn’t be here. I was sort of planning to annoy you in addition to getting work done.”

I smile softly at her. “You can annoy me in Port Haven. And sneak away to my room if you need to edit.”

“Okay,” Hunter says, pushing her shoulders back and pulling Dolly in tighter to her chest. “Okay, I’ll come. That sounds fun.” I grin at her. “It will be.”

***

“That was so much fun!” Hunter squeals, bouncing down the stairs of Josh’s brownstone.

I can’t stop smiling as I watch her. She’s charmed everyone, even Nic, though I doubt my sister will ever admit it. She’s funny, clever, smart, and finally brought an end to Josh’s reign as Monopoly champion.

“Did you have fun, Giovanna?” Hunter asks, spinning to look up at me when she reaches the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah,” I say honestly, reaching out and tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. Her breath hitches, and I immediately pull my hand back.

“Sorry,” Hunter says, biting her lip and blushing as she turns to walk away. I follow her, grateful that my legs are longer and it doesn’t take me long to catch up to her.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask when I’m next to her. “I’m the one who touched you without consent.”

“You have my consent,” Hunter says quickly, her blush deepening. “I mean…I just know you don’t like it when I react. But that was perfect, by the way. Casual intimacy, like we’ve been working on. I have to practice…”

I grab her wrist and turn her to me, her sapphire eyes widening with surprise. I feel my own doing the same. But, God. She’s so pretty and joyful and…and I want to taste that. To inhale it, have it branded on my skin.

“We haven’t practiced kissing again,” I say. “Maybe we should do that before tomorrow. I wouldn’t be surprised if an opportunity arose and we need to be ready.”

“Should we?” Hunter asks softly.

My heart is pounding so hard it echoes in my ears. “Only if you’re okay with it. I think more practice before tomorrow would benefit us.”

Hunter slowly rises in height as she lifts herself onto her tiptoes, her nose brushing mine. My breath hitches, too, and who do I think I am, mocking her for her responses to our kisses when this is what she does to me?

“I’m okay with it,” she says, her breath warm against my lips before hers touch mine.

For a moment, I lose myself in a fantasy. A fantasy where this isn’t a ruse, and we’re not kissing just to convince my ex-fiancée we’re in love. We’re kissing because she wants to kiss me, and I want to kiss her. We’re kissing because her lips feel right against mine, and because this feels good .

One hand cups her neck while the other grasps her hip, pulling her body into mine until she’s flush against me. She’s so soft, so supple. I love how the soft parts of her body feel against the soft parts of mine, how we seem to melt together.

“Jo,” she sighs before opening my mouth with hers. Our tongues find each other instantaneously, and touching her like this feels electric.

Our kiss grows deeper, more desperate. I like to think of myself as someone always in control, always keeping her cool. I always have been. I like restraining myself while making someone else unravel. I like the wait, the slow burn.

Or I did, until Hunter Cleary grabbed a fistful of my hair while her tongue was inside my mouth and made me forget my own name.

I force myself to break the kiss, taking a drastic step back that causes Hunter to stumble forward into me.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, stepping back from me. “I got carried away again.” She looks up, lips swollen and lids heavy. “You’re a really good kisser, Giovanna. If that whole owning your own firm thing doesn’t work out, you can totally make it as a professional kisser.”

I laugh before I can try to stop myself. I’ve been noticing that happening more and more, me laughing or smiling without remembering to feel self-conscious to hide it.

How strange. I have to remember to feel self-conscious now, rather than it being immediate and natural. I feel like that’s something Alena will love to hear next week.

“That’s nice. Instead of being a street performer, I can be a street kisser for some extra cash. Set up a kissing booth in the Lorimer Street station.”

Her hand is in mine, and she uses the leverage to spin my body towards hers, cupping my cheek and pressing up onto her tiptoes to kiss me again.

“What was that for?” I ask when she pulls away. My voice is shaking, and Hunter’s eyes are squeezed shut.

“I wanted to know what it was like to kiss you mid-laugh. To taste your happiness before it slipped away. And now I’m making sure I don’t forget it.”

It should be weird, I know that. But Hunter squeezing her eyes closed so she’ll remember what this short kiss was like has my stomach doing flips.

I smile and squeeze her hand, which seems to take her aback. She looks at our hands, as if she’s surprised we’re still touching, and maybe she is. This isn’t the norm for us.

Maybe I wouldn’t mind if it was.

Oh my god . Maybe Alena’s right.

I clear my throat and pull out my phone. I notice that Hunter, unlike a lot of people, isn’t bothered by this. She seems used to me pulling out my phone to check my blood sugar. And it’s such a small thing, isn’t it? But she gets this part of me in a way so many people haven’t.

“There’s a good ice cream place that’s a little bit out of the way if you want to get some,” I say, sliding my phone back into my pocket after seeing what I’d already suspected: my blood sugar is higher after eating Josh’s homemade pasta. If we walk to the shop, my blood sugar should hopefully come down.

“I’d love to,” Hunter says, a smile brightening her face.

Our hands brush as we walk to the shop, side by side. And though I want to grab hers and ask what the hell she’s doing to me, I don’t. Being with her, being her friend, is enough for now.