Page 42 of Kiss My Glass
I tell the truth. “Danny’s a natural.”
“Oh, you’ll have to show us!” says Shelby, eagerly, from by the bench where she’s cracking eggs into a bowl.
“That will not happen in our lifetime,” I tell her.
I’m thinking the subject is closed, but it seems Nate’s not done with me. “So, I assume the plan’s now void?”
“What plan?” says Ava.
Do she and Cam have to be here?
“Frankie concocted a plan for her and Danny to share in each other’s top four hobbies.” Nate is showing no mercy and I will not forget it. “So, they could get to know each other better before becoming … more intimate.”
“I like that plan,” says Ava to me. “It failed its Beta testing but it was still a sound idea. You need more than scorching sexual compatibility for a great relationship. Isn’t that right?” She pats Cam on the shoulder.
“No comment,” says Cam. “Nate invited us here to talk about the crush, and call me crazy, but I was kind of hoping that would be the main subject. Seeing as I have to get to work soon.”
That’s a big sentence for Cam and an unusually assertive one. I guess, being with Ava, he’s been forced to come out of his shell. Not that I’ve thought about this much, but if Cam was going to end up with any woman, I’d always assumed she’d be like him, a quiet working-class girl who grew up scratching a living on a farm. Rich, mouthy Ava Durant could not be more opposite to that.
But despite Cam’s small display of tetchiness, he’s smiling lovingly at Ava. I suddenly realize that he’s happy with her and feel a weird twinge in my gut that I can’t easily identify. Part of me is glad that he finally found the right person, and part of me is still resentful that he took Mom’s attention away for so long. Part of me really wants what he and Ava have: an equal, loving, well-grounded relationship. Although I had an amazing time with Danny last night, it’s not been enough time for me to feel like I properly trust him yet. Damn it. I should have stuck to the plan. Emotional turbulence has a lot to answer for.
Shelby calls from the kitchen. “Eggs are ready! Come and get ’em!”
We form an orderly queue for toast and eggs. Shelby has made a batch just for me because not everyone likes their scrambled eggs without a single hint of moisture.
“And there’s coffee on the stove,” Shelby adds. “Help yourselves.”
Danny is the only one who takes up the offer. He selects the largest mug and fills it to the brim. The steam from it coils like cartoon vapor emanating from a lethal potion.
“Mm-mm,” he says, taking a sip. “That’s a cure for male pattern baldness right there.”
When Danny and I came in, we went straight to opposite ends of the table, before realizing that it was pointless to pretend that we hadn’t been together all night. Now, Danny pulls out the chair right next to me.
“I’m happy to keep the plan going, by the way,” he murmurs so only I can hear. “If you are?”
Am I happy to keep going? Or do I want to use this “failure” as an excuse to back away and stay safe? That’s what tends to happen when I feel vulnerable, and there’s nothing like a whole bunch of people judging you over breakfast to make you feel exposed.
But if I give up, then what do I lose? Even if Danny and I don’t have a future together, we have this month. And if I say “yes” to pushing on with the plan, then I have a bunch of things to look forward to. Okay, not hiking, but I could make sure it’s a short hike.
“It’s your turn to pick an activity,” I say.
Danny gives me a wide smile that’s got more than a hint of surprise in it. Guess he expected that I would back out. Is that down to me and my commitment issues, or is he a little less self-confident than he appears?
“Go karting,” Danny says. “Indoors. How about I book us a slot for an upcoming weekend?”
“You’re going go karting?” Ava has the ears of a lynx. “Be careful. Danny gets so competitive he’s been known to shunt even his own family off the track.”
“The only family member I shunted was you,” says Danny. “And that’s because you were weaving in front of me, refusing to let me pass.”
“It’s supposed to be a fun, friendly activity, not NASCAR,” says Ava. “Another example of poor sportsmanship on your part.”
Danny’s holding his fork in a dangerous manner. “On my part?”
“Ahem,” I say. “Remember the jar. No insults allowed.”
“And maybe now we could discuss what we came here for,” says Cam. “Nate? The crush?”
“Right, yeah, the crush,” says Nate, slowly. Whatever’s on his mind is weighing heavily.
