Chapter 10 #2
That’s not even going into how distracted I am by the fact that we almost kissed in my kitchen.
She smelled so good, and was laughing her head off at my tickling, and I became a fucking ball of want.
I’m glad she gently put the brakes on, because we almost crossed one of the carefully laid boundaries we’ve put down.
We need to keep those boundaries in place if we’re going to make this farce we’re about to put on work.
Picking her up from Tania and Carlo’s earlier was a convenient way for us both to talk to them about what we’re planning and why.
In a surprise to no one, Carlo reacted more optimistically, if not a little cautious about it.
Tania was shook that her sister is getting married for something other than love.
“Cece, this is not the way to go about getting healthcare. Gage, you know I love you, and to be blunt I would love to see you two actually get to know each other and eventually date for real. That is incredibly different from jumping into a legally binding marriage and putting on a ruse for Gage’s family.
I’ve read enough romances to know that feelings will get involved and someone will get hurt. ”
“We’ve talked through all of this. It’ll be fine, no one will get hurt or catch feelings.
We’re friends who are going to help each other out,” Celeste had told her with a stubborn set to her chin.
The last thing I wanted was to contradict Celeste, or get between a sister quarrel, so I just put a supportive hand on her back. Tania clocked it, and her eyes flashed.
“Keep telling yourself that, and eventually you might believe it, sis,” she murmured under her breath. “I know I’m not going to change your mind, you mule, so please for the love of everything be careful? I’ll be there with bells on to be your witness, obviously.”
“I will be, too,” Carlo chimes in. Tish and Gomez, who have been circling us looking for attention, both meow as if they want to come to our wedding, too. It would be pretty damn cute, but not going to happen.
Celeste turning on some music from her phone plugged into the speakers brings me back into the car with her.
Her high ponytail swings as she leans forward to also turn up the air conditioning more.
The sun streams into the car windows, fluffy clouds dotting a bright blue sky.
In the close quarters, I can smell her floral soap mingled with the coconut scented sunscreen she put on her fair skin.
We’re both casually dressed for a simple cookout, her berry colored sleeveless shirt tucked into brown linen shorts.
Strappy brown flat sandals reveal her ice blue colored toenails that match her fingernails.
I’m in a short sleeved blue and white plaid button down with my favorite grey cargo shorts and black slides.
We’ve been fairly quiet in the ten minutes we’ve been in the car so far, and now we’re stopped at a red light.
A low female voice sings about a minnow asking a trout for help, and when I raise my eyebrows to Celeste, she shrugs.
“It’s a great song by A Fine Frenzy, I love her voice.”
“I like it, I’m just trying to figure out the deeper meaning,” I tell her. She tilts her head in thought.
“To me, it’s a hopeful song about being able to connect with others who are different from you to ask for help. That we’re all also essentially the same deep down. It’s a great message.”
“Is this your favorite kind of music? Just an instrument or maybe two with a beautiful voice singing over it?”
“Aw, look at us doing some future spouse getting to know you questions!”
Her hand lightly bats mine in amusement. She lowers her sunglasses to look at me with a sparkle in her eyes before putting them back. I shake my head and pull my own sunglasses down to playfully glare at her. Then the light turns green again, and I focus back on the road.
“To answer your question, yes. It’s raw, and honest, and it makes me feel way too many things. What’s your favorite music?”
“Oh, I was big into bands like 311, Hoobastank, Arctic Monkeys, Muse, because of my older brother when I was young, and they’re still my favorites. That music holds up twenty or so years later.”
She grins.
“I still listen to some of them sometimes too, I love stomping around to Flowing or Creatures by 311 when I’m feeling some kind of way.”
“Are we too old to get into a mosh pit?” I ask.
“We’d pay for it the next day probably, but nobody is ever too old to get into a mosh pit.
I was at a concert once ages ago where a couple who were definitely in their fifties or sixties were moshing around and having a blast. They looked so in love, I couldn’t tell whether I wanted to swoon or barf.
” The wistfulness that bleeds into her tone tells me everything I need to know.
I know it because without warning, I feel a pang of that wistfulness, too.
What would it be like to get old and grey with someone?
To be so completely in love that you don’t abandon each other?
The image of me and Celeste thirty years from now, going to a concert and dancing around like we’re still teenagers, fills me with a longing I’ve never felt before.