Chapter 10 Brin
Brin
Marco is dead quiet on the walk back to our apartment. In all the excitement of the last ten minutes I started sweating, so I fan my sweatshirt out from my chest the first block, but then the chilly air cools me down too fast, and I start to get cold.
Having a soaked-through sneaker doesn’t help either. I’m squelching with every step and my toes are going numb.
Now that the excitement of the mega-points-winning has worn off, I’m second-guessing the whole interaction. I tried to remain as cool as possible. Just a kiss, no big deal, right?
I did it for the points! For charity! My stupid little heart that fluttered when Marco’s lips hit mine can shut the hell up.
It was just a peck on the lips with my roommate, one of the people I know best in the world. Marco is not helping, because he’s trodding along silently behind me.
Did I just force myself on him? I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal.
Another part of me is offended. It’s just a kiss! Get over it. I’m reasonably attractive and it didn’t mean anything.
I surreptitiously exhale into my palm. I don’t even have bad breath!
Inside our apartment I toe my shoe off and make a face at the soggy mess of my right sneaker. I sit on the couch and peel off my sock.
“Jesus Christ,” Marco says. “Your toes are blue.”
“It’s not that bad,” I insist, but Marco kneels down in front of me anyway. He picks my foot up and rubs his hands over it, one on the sole of my foot and one on the top. I jerk away and giggle. “Hey!”
Marco holds up his hands. “I know, I know.” He rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t trying to tickle you.” He shifts his attention to my toes.
Okay, the big one is a little pale. It’s not blue.
Marco rubs my toes more aggressively and then knits his fingers together, pressing my foot between his hands and making a toe sandwich.
His hands are warm and slightly calloused from his time at the gym.
But I have always loved his hands, with their trim, neat nails and the light dusting of hair on the back.
We sit like this for a few more moments.
Marco’s thumb lightly runs over the side of my toe, careful not to tickle me again.
His dark hair has fallen forward onto his forehead, and his brow is slightly wrinkled in concentration.
I warm from the inside out, basking in having his attention so focused on making me feel good.
Even if it’s just warming me up.
Marco breaks the quiet by letting go of my foot and leaning back. “Better?”
I wiggle my toes. “Yeah. I think this calls for a hot cocoa though. Then we can get back to work on the art.”
Marco rises to his feet. “Let me get you some socks first. And where did your slippers go?”
I direct Marco to the kitchen, where I had abandoned my slippers under the table when we ran out to the bodega. He drops them at my feet. “And socks?”
“The bottom drawer of my nightstand.”
I pull my feet underneath me to the edge of the couch and inspect my pedicure. I painted them at home, using one of my few splurges—a bottle of nail polish.
I hear the drawer to my nightstand slide open just in time to remember that I keep my hot pink vibrating dildo in my sock drawer.
Mortification barrels through me, turning my cheeks hot and making me cringe.
Even though Eva assures me most women own one, I’m still not over this hang-up.
And that just doubles my embarrassment, because I wish I could be confident and brush it off.
Between the awkward kiss today and this, I feel less like an adult than before. What must Marco think of me?