Birding with Benefits

Chapter 13

Celeste was kicking bird trivia ass. She tapped her fingers against the black Formica bar table, leaning in close to John so her voice wouldn’t carry to any neighboring teams.

“It’s the verdin. I’m telling you, it’s the verdin. I know this.”

The question “Which bird uses the prevailing winds to keep cool?” had her team in hot debate. But she knew from her bedtime reading that the teeny little verdin built its spherical nest with the opening facing the breeze, to cool the inside in the summer heat. She’d marveled at the genius of the act.

“This question is lacking in needed specifics,” Chris argued. “Which season? Which winds?”

Chris had been about this helpful the entire night, which was to say not at all. Although he had chosen their team name—the Tweethearts—and contributed to the spirit with jovial conversation and the occasional snail joke. Celeste would never have guessed so many snail jokes even existed, but she was headed home with a handful of them to make Morgan cringe.

“I don’t suppose you have an opinion, Jared?” John looked to his brother, who was seated across the table from Celeste. He was in town for the night and conveniently rounded out John and Celeste’s trivia team. Jared was taller than John, with a leaner build and darker hair. But they shared the same hard jawline, and Jared had the same habit of rubbing his chin while he was thinking, though he was clean-shaven.

He shook his head. “I leave it all in the hands of the experts.” He nodded to Celeste and gave her a little wink, which made her stifle a giggle. She’d learned quickly that Jared was naturally magnetic and flirtatious, throwing winks and knowing smiles around easily, including in the direction of Chris, who just batted his eyelashes in return. He had a movie-star bad-boy quality about him, down to the black T-shirt, hooded eyes, and forearm-covering tattoos. But where she’d expected to see a beer or a glass of bourbon in his hand, Jared demurely sipped club soda with lemon.

“We have thirty more seconds to submit the answer,” John said. “Celeste sounds sure, and I know she’s been studying up. So let’s go with that.”

Celeste gave a little cheer, then pursed her lips. “But am I right?”

Their team was neck and neck with the Know It Owls and the Chirp-n-Dales. Nearly three weeks of birding with John, mixed with her own drive to study and compete, had brought her into the trivia event pumped and prepared, especially with John at her side. He was patient after the questions were asked, always giving her time to make her guess before confirming his agreement and entering their official answer. But she waited for his confirmation now as she squeezed some lime into her beer and took a long sip.

He was quiet for a second, then shot her a shy smile. “I don’t know. Your answer makes a lot of sense, but I don’t know for sure.”

“Oh my god!” She hit the table, making all the glasses rattle and sing. “You don’t know? And I do?” She looked at the others at her table, ensuring that they witnessed her moment of triumph. “And so the student has become the teacher!”

Laughing, he entered the answer in the handheld device given to each team, and Celeste was quickly proven correct. She hooted in celebration as Jared gave her a high five. Chris provided her with a golf clap from his side of the table.

“We seem to have a tie here between the Tweethearts and team Know It Owls,” announced Brad, the night’s MC. Celeste glanced over to team six’s table, making sure to keep a smile on her face. They’d been battling for first place all night, and Breena and her companions were clearly annoyed by the competition.

“I bet she thinks you carried our team,” Celeste murmured to John, her mouth close to his ear.

He leaned in, his knee knocking into hers under the table as one hand found the curve of her lower back. “But I didn’t. And you know that, and so do I.” A trail of pleasure tracked from his voice to where his thumb absentmindedly rubbed her spine.

Because the birding crowd was all gathered for the contest’s trivia night, John and Celeste were back to playing fake boyfriend and girlfriend, though Jared and Chris both knew the truth. Chris had even mentioned that he was looking forward to “a bit of theater” that evening, and Celeste had wiggled her eyebrows and smirked as she pinched the ticklish spot she’d discovered on John’s waist.

It felt good to touch him. The memories of the way he’d touched her in the bowling alley were still sharp, but it was their time in her yard she couldn’t forget. The quiet intimacy of sitting together, his profound awareness of his surroundings, and the generous observation he’d gifted her.

They’d been close to something on that bench, and she knew he’d sensed it, too. He’d looked at her mouth with the same kind of focus he used when bird-watching, and it turned her to jelly.

He’d done them both a favor by leaving, and they’d managed to be normal, un-horny birding adults the next day, adding a slew of water birds to their count at a local pond. But her body still buzzed near him, and if she had the opportunity now, as a faithful fake girlfriend, to lean into his touch, she’d take it. Maybe these small touches would be enough for her, and she’d stop craving more.

“Tie, schmie. I wanted to win tonight,” she said to John, their foreheads almost touching. “I know we’re catching up in the count, but I really wanted these points.”

The night’s winning team got five extra points added to their final bird count. Given that Celeste was still getting the hang of things almost halfway through the contest, they could use all the extra points they could get.

MC Brad cleared his throat right into the microphone, drawing a few groans from the crowd, but then spoke excitedly. “Luckily, we came prepared, and we have a tiebreaker question. Can we please have two representatives from each team up to the front?”

Jared smiled and motioned to John and Celeste. “I’m sure as hell not going.”

Celeste was already halfway there, stepping onto the small makeshift stage as Breena and her teammate Marisol made their way to the front. She gave a little finger wave toward Breena, who just sniffed in response. But Breena’s indifference slipped when John joined Celeste onstage, and her eyes narrowed as she watched Celeste reach a hand over to trail a finger down his firm forearm.

“All right, this question is a little different from the others.” Brad used his best show-host voice, low and dramatic, and Celeste dropped her hand back to her side. “I believe it might just be what we need to set one team apart. Are we ready?” He paused for dramatic effect. Back at their table, Chris cheered.

“In Emily Dickinson’s poem about a hummingbird, known as ‘A Route of Evanescence’?”—Celeste’s heart leapt into her throat as Brad continued—“Dickinson makes a reference to an insect that prospers here in the Sonoran Desert. What is the insect?”

Celeste shot a hand out to John and squeezed his fingers tight in her fist. A few feet away, Breena looked at Brad incredulously. “Brad,” she finally said, “seriously? Is this even about birds?”

Brad shot a showman’s smile at Breena and shrugged. “Clock’s ticking.”

John leaned close to Celeste, whispering in her ear. “You’re about to break my fingers.”

She raised her lips to his ear, trying with all her might to be quiet when she wanted to screech. “I know this I know this I know this! I do an Emily Dickinson unit with my students every fucking year, John. I love this one.”

She whispered the poem she’d read dozens of times, the shape of the words familiar in her mouth. “?‘A route of evanescence, with a revolving wheel, a resonance of emerald, a rush of cochineal.’?”

John turned to her with a smile that lit up a sunburst just behind her sternum. She nudged his arm and he quickly typed in the answer. She looked to Chris and Jared and gave them a wink and a thumbs-up. Jared winked right back.

“All righty,” Brad said as the time ran out. “Let’s see who is the most literary among us. Answers, please.” The screen above the bar showed their answers—cochineal for the Tweethearts and a series of exclamation points and question marks from Breena and Marisol, who apparently weren’t such know-it-owls after all.

Holy. Shit. Middle school language arts for the win.

Finally, Brad spoke again. “And the Tweethearts have it! Cochineal, everyone! Most of you may know this tiny bug makes its webs on the pads of the prickly pear and is known for the bright red color that comes from its body—”

But his words barely reached Celeste. She was too busy jumping up and down, squealing with delight.

Yes, it was only a bird trivia contest in a little bar in Tucson, Arizona, a blip on the radar compared with things far more significant in the passage of time.

But it was also her plan in action—learning new things, having new adventures, discovering new facets of herself. It was having fun with new friends, and it was the sweet thrill of victory.

It was seeing John’s whatcha gonna do? shrug at Breena, and her slack-jawed expression in response. It was the extra points to help get him closer to his dream.

It was the electricity of John’s hand in hers, squeezing back, his face lighting up as he laughed at her victory dance.

And it was the adrenaline racing through her body as she put her hand on the side of his face, finally feeling the rough texture of his beard beneath her fingers. His eyes went a little wide as she focused on his mouth, smiling broadly. That morning, like every morning, she’d studied her mirror, scanned the notes for daily wisdom. One rose in her mind now as Jared and Chris cheered from the sidelines, John grinning down at her.

Give in to joy.

So she pulled John’s smiling face to hers, and she kissed her fake boyfriend.