and she dreaded school starting up again. He would be back at his college, and she, at hers, almost four hours from his.
“Here. Put this on.” He handed her the shirt he had on earlier – from his fraternity, with the plaid letters EX. She stuck her arms through the holes, and inhaled the smell of him, of light sweat mixed with Obsession , of grass and trees (she imagined he wore it to the golf club the day before) – all this, she could smell from his shirt. She exhaled as her head plucked through.
“Let’s get something to drink.”
In the kitchen, she opened the fridge as he stood behind her, his arms encircling her waist, his body tight up against hers, and the thrill of his touch, again so soon, was enough to make her want to turn around and start kissing him right then and there even though they just left her bed.
“ Joe,” she whispered.
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you have any lemons?” he asked.
“Probably.”
“Grab some?”
“You want lemonade?”
“ Something like that,” he laughed. He moved away from her and she opened the drawer at the bottom of the fridge and scrounged around, and just as she was about to suggest something else to drink, she spotted a plump lemon.
“We’ve only got one. We have that lemonade powder stuff. I could get… ”
“One’s fine,” and he took it from her.
He searched some cabinets, found a cutting board. “Sugar? And can you get some ice?”
The thought of him in her kitchen, making lemonade, being domestic, excited Marnie but she wondered how he was going to make lemonade with only one lemon. In the back of the cabinet where her mother kept coffee stuff – powdered creamer, coffee filters, tea bags – Marnie found a small container of sugar.
Joe sliced up the lemon in crescent-shaped glistening chunks. Marnie walked over and poked him in the ribs, thinking how lucky she was to have this guy in her house, in her bed, in what she hoped would be her future.
“Did you get ice?”
When Marnie nodded in the direction of the glass she had filled with ice, Joe said, “Perfect.”
He placed five lemon pieces into a bowl. He then took the ice cubes from the glass, and dumped them on top of the lemons, chilling them.
“Sugar?”
Marnie nodded toward the sugar. Joe licked his index finger and skimmed the top of the white mound of crystals, then placed his finger on Marnie’s lips. She sucked.
“Taste good?”
“Umm.” She licked her lips.
He grabbed her around the waist and Marnie wrapped her arms around his neck and they kissed, tasting each other’s sugared lips. In a fluid motion, Joe raised Marnie up onto the kitchen island, and she spread her legs a bit, waiting for Joe to join her on the counter.
God, if only my mother knew.
Joe kept kissing her as she scooted back a bit, opening her legs further, making room for Joe to climb up, but then he stopped.
“Wait. I told you I was thirsty.”
“Oh, come on, you’re kidding, right?”
Joe looked at her, and smiled. She was impatient, she was ready; she didn’t want lemonade.
Joe turned away from Marnie and she sighed, touched her knees to one another, closing her legs.
“This better be some damn good lemonade,” Marnie muttered.
“Can you do me a favor?” he asked from the sink, his back to her. She was still perched on the island, sure that her kitchen fantasy was going to be just that. Sure he was going to ask for something else, maybe the sweet and low, or some bottled lemon juice for this lemonade concoction he was so hell-bent on making.
“What?” she snipped, annoyed at being teased.
“Can you lie down?”
Joe was still facing the sink, and if he had turned around, he would have seen her eyes go wide. He had only been teasing her, and he did, in fact, want to play. She suppressed a giggle, and scooted until the back of her knees hit the edge of the countertop. Then, she leaned back, but kept her elbows on the counter, steadying herself so she
Learning to Kill: Stories