As she comes down, her body slows and her breathing relaxes. She lays her head on my shoulder, and I can feel the wetness between our bodies, but neither of us seems to care.
“That was . . .” she begins. “I—”
Her words are cut short by the noise of the front door closing.
“Landon?” Tessa’s voice comes from around the corner, cutting through our heavy breaths, slicing through our euphoric thoughts.
“Shit,” Nora mutters as she climbs off me, then loses her balance. I grab her elbow, keeping her from falling to the floor.
I stand, and Nora’s eyes move to my crotch. The wet spot there. “Go.”
I move quickly toward the bathroom. Tessa walks into the kitchen as I reach the doorway, and I try to bolt, but she stops me. At least my back is turned toward her.
“Hey, I tried to call you,” she says.
I don’t want to turn around. I can’t turn around.
“I wanted to see if you could bring my other shoes to my work. Someone dropped a bowl of salad dressing on my shoes, and I have to close tonight.” Tessa’s voice is strained.
I can tell without even looking at her that she’s stressed, and I’m not exactly in a position to console her, or anyone, right now. I look around for something to grab so I can cover myself and turn around, but there’s nothing aside from a box of Lucky Charms.
“Anyway,” Tessa begins, her voice lightening, “what are you guys up to?”
I grab the cereal box and cover my crotch and turn to Tessa. Her eyes shoot straight to the box. I hold it tight.
“We were . . .” I search for excuses and words and try not to let my nervous fingers slip from the corners of the box.
Tessa looks at Nora, then back to me. “Oh, hey—what are you doing here?” Tessa asks innocently.
I search for help from Nora, but she’s silent. I’m going down on this sinking ship, with only the leprechaun on the cereal box for an ally.
“Well,” I begin, still without a clue as to what the heck I’m gonna say. Tessa is standing in the doorway with white globs of dressing covering her shoes. She’s not the only one with white stains on her . . .
“We were cooking,” I say, and mentally thank Tessa for buying the family-size box of Lucky Charms.
“Cooking?” Tessa looks at Nora, her expression unreadable.
Nora steps forward. “Yeah, chicken and . . .” Nora looks at me. “Lucky Charms?” Her tone is so unsure that I’m positive Tessa will catch it. “As the breading. You know how we have those Frosted Flake–covered tenders at work? I wanted to try with Lucky Charms,” Nora explains.
I almost believe her, and, more importantly, Tessa seems to, too.
Nora continues, “You have to go back to work? Here, let’s get your shoes.”
With Nora’s distraction in place, I scamper off, saying “I’ll be right back” over my shoulder.
This is so awkward. Why is everything in my life so dang awkward? Thankful that Nora is a better liar than I am, I disappear into the hallway, cereal box in tow.
“What’s with him?” I hear Tessa ask Nora. I don’t stay around to hear her response.