Page 37 of Teach Me to Laugh

“Well,” I encouraged. “Where is it?”

Beckett pointed to the cupboard above the stove, and I frowned.

“Seriously?” Hands on my hips, I gave my attention to the cupboard that could have been on Mount Olympus for as high and out of my reach as it was. “Why would you put the booze all the way up there?”

“Because I can reach it all the way up there.” Beckett announced, moving to the fridge where the cupboard of impossibility sat. “What do you want?”

“Anything but rum.”

He pulled the vodka down and I skipped to the fridge where I knew I’d find a new jug of raspberry juice waiting, haloed in the light of the fridge. And I was right; there was a brand new jug, “Just like Heaven.”

“What?”

“Never ending supply of my favorite juice. It’s a little how I imagine Heaven might be.”

“Right,” he nodded, chuckling. “Well, someone in Heaven is going to be working hard every day to get you your juice.”

“Heaven doesn’t work like that,” I announced, pouring my drink. “In Heaven, the good things just happen.”

“I think I like your Heaven.”

“Me too.”

Her Heaven is the raspberry juice I bust my balls to make sure she has, but my Heaven is her. I wondered if she knew she couldn’t have her Heaven without me.

“What kind of grown woman has playdough in her room?”

“And kindergarten flash cards.” She waved the bundle of cards tied in an elastic band and I wondered about this gameshe’d propositioned we play after her drink was poured.

“What are we doing with playdough and flash cards?” I let the cool rum and coke slide down my throat, watching the little bundle of energy curiously. This was the first time I’d seen Amara let loose, andreallylet loose.

I liked it. She was beautiful always, but she was extraordinary when she let herself move without thinking ten steps ahead.

“All right, Raina and I used to play this all the time,” She shuffled the flash cards before slapping them on the table, covering the stack with a little box that had two ends cut out of it. “So you can’t see the card you’re going to draw before you draw.” She explained the odd box.

“What do we do with the playdough?”

“Sheesh, a little impatient?” She eyed me teasingly through thick lashes, and fuck me, if she wasn’t drunk I think I would have made a move. “What color do you want?”

“Blue.” I was already looking into her brighter than bright blue eyes, so it was the first color on my tongue.

Sliding the blue playdough across the coffee table, she nabbed the purple for herself. Something we both could have guessed she’d do.

“We take turns drawing a card and we both have to sculpt whatever the card says. Whoever has the best when the sixty seconds is up gets the card. Whoever has the most cards at the end wins the game.”

“Sounds easy,”

“Oh, I’m good at this game. Very, very good at this game.”

By the time we’d gone seven rounds, I had the majority of the cards on my side of the table. It wasn’t because I was good at this whacked game she’d created, but because the rules were easy as fuck to bend and every time I bent a rule, I could see her heat flare. I wanted all that heat to explode.

“Mine’s the best.” I said.

“No, it’s not! Look at it, Beckett.”

“It’s thebestmess.”

Bobbing her head, she huffed in agreement. “Exactly, amess.”

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