Page 63 of The Dreidl Disaster

But she needed to keep an expression on her face that demonstrated she took this, and him, seriously. “Wear it under your clothing? Near certain parts of your body to inspire their function?”

This time, she could see the twitch by the corner of his mouth, as if he was holding back laughter. The first dent in his armor she’d seen all night.

“No,” he said, pushing on, his voice wrapping around her, turning her insides to jelly.

She laced her fingers together and looked up. “What then?”

He pointed upwards, to a string hanging down from the roof, a duplicate of the broccoli he’d jettisoned hanging from it.

“If you kiss under it,” he said, “your relationship will be as blessed as the green of the broccoli, and gets stronger at its root.”

Despite everything, despite what she knew was about to happen, she wanted to laugh. Whether it was nervous laughter or amusement at the story he was telling, she didn’t know.

But deep inside, she knew that giving in to the laughter would be a horrible idea, the moment was wrapped up in too many other things she didn’t want to defuse. And so, instead, she said the first words that came into her head. “You’re full of pudding.”

He looked so adorably puzzled, this man who made magic of language and space for her.

This enigma wrapped in a riddle.

She wouldn’t hold herself responsible for what she was about to do; it was natural, necessary now that he stood in front of her in a place that felt more private than it was. But he’d opened that door, created that space.

And prepared himself for failure.

He needed her, and if she was going to be honest with herself, she needed him too.

So, she kissed him.

Which shouldn’t have felt so inevitable, and yet it was. The taste of him, the way he opened up to her, the way his hands felt on her.

All of it was inevitable.

And she was doomed.

Because she didn’t want to stop.

*

It had beena long time since Artur felt comfortable enough to lose himself completely in anybody or anything, and yet there he was, his entire consciousness focused on Liv. His mouth on hers, his hands on her, and his body aching, wanting to close the distance between them.

When she pulled back, he felt as if she’d taken a part of him with her. “I…”

“I liked that,” she said, looking up at him. “But not just like. It felt amazing and you felt amazing and…”

“So you don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen?”

She shook her head. “Blaming nothing, not even the starlight. This was me…this was you…and yes.”

As the words settled in his brain, the relief galloped out of him. “You’re not pretending it didn’t happen.”

She shook her head, and the fire in her eyes reminded him of a shamash. “And you know what?”

“I don’t,” he said. “Tell me. I don’t want to make assumptions.”

“I might want to do it again,” she said.

And if he was going to faint, that would be the moment.

But he didn’t.

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