Page 107 of Problematic Summer Romance

“What?” Conor asks. Somehow, his sudden appearance doesn’t startle me.

“Look at them. They love each other a cringeworthy amount. They just want to be married, and the damn underground magma is not dense enough to let them.”

“Isn’t it the opposite?”

“What?”

“Isn’t the underground magmatoodense?”

“The magma has to have enough buoyancy to rise to the surface.”

“I thought the main factor was gas bubbles that…” He shakes his head. Chuckles as he leans forward, palms against the railing.

“What?”

“I can’t believe I was arguing over fluid dynamics with you.”

“Neither can I. Shall I school you on the Nasdaq?”

“And on my low-hanging testicles, too.” He looks at me sternly, desperately trying to pretend he didn’t enjoy the way I called him out. I sit against the railing, facing him, to make it even harder on him.

“Should I have talked about your PhD?”

“I never got one.”

“Don’t be modest, Conor. You have a pretty huge dick.”

A thoughtful stare. “You really are,” he muses, “a constant menace.”

“I try.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Nah. Wine’s too grapey. You?”

He shakes his head.

“What’syourexcuse? You’re not one of us, the unwashed masses. You like wine. You have a refined palate. Youpairshit, and…” I straighten, in utter disbelief that Imissedthis. “You’re not drinking.”

He glances around, as if to highlight the absence of a glass. “How observant of you.”

“No, not just right now. You no longer drink. I haven’t seen you take a sip of alcohol since you got here.”

His stare seems to ask:Do you want an award for noticing?

And yes, I do. Also wanted: answers. “But you weren’t…?”

“An alcoholic? No. I don’t think I was. But it got to be a bit much.”

“When?”

“A few months ago.”

My throat seizes. “About ten or so?”

A pause. He nods, silent, and I have to clench my fist. All I want in the world is permission to reach out and kiss him. I nearly do so, but he adds, “I figured it might be better to take a break. I never liked myself much when I drank, anyway. The things I said…They could be quite cruel.”

I can relate. There have been approximately ten thousand times in the last few years when I haven’t liked myself. Nine thousand and nine hundred of them, I was angry and said something unfair to someone who didn’t deserve it. “Do you miss it?”

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