Chapter 9
NINE
Nico
I find myself in the egg aisle thinking of elementary school grammar lessons.
Particularly the one Mrs. Harrison gave about adjectives. Adjectives are describing words. They describe nouns. Looks like, feels like, sounds like.
Easy enough, I remember thinking. Smooth desk. Fluffy dog.
Then, loud Annie Li. Smart Annie Li. Tough Annie Li. Scary Annie Li.
Because Annie Li was taking that particular lesson to lay the fuck into Steven Choi, who was sitting to our right, because he had called May a nerd during recess. Annie Li being Annie Li, however, was using adjectives at a level far beyond any of our comprehension.
Ignorant Steven Choi, she hissed, her feet unknowingly kicking the back of my chair in her agitation. Nauseating, revolting Steven Choi. Repulsive, disfigured, pathetic Steven Choi.
Then in my head I added, sad Steven Choi, after he started crying, then sorry Steven Choi, after Annie made him apologize to May, who was sitting behind her.
In high school, there were two different sets of adjectives. Junior year? Funny, intelligent, hardworking Annie Li. Senior year? Nasty as fuck Annie Li.
Standing there in the egg aisle, buying supplies for the NakedReactions video I plan on filming tonight, my thirty-year-old self is able to think of more advanced adjectives to describe Annie.
Tenacious, unyielding, abrasive Annie Li. Guarded, wary.
When I woke up with her all but riding my dick? Supple. Sexy. Lascivious. Soft and wet Annie Li. A quiet miracle of soft curves, impossible considering her razor-sharp edges.
And after holding her sobbing body at the rest stop? Fragile, delicate. Complex. Wounded.
I grab a pack of eggs and a pack of bacon. Some bread and butter and cream. I’ve gotta take advantage of this pool house situation and the fact that Annie will be hiding there overnight. Something quick, something easy, like breakfast food.
I’ve gotta work on my fancy pants voice, the over-the-top professor type-shit, ‘cause I’ve been Brooklyn Nico for the last two weeks, so I practice a few lines in the car on my drive over to the restaurant for a quick in and out before filming.
Once I get back to our place, it’s late enough that all the lights are off in the pool house.
I quietly gather all my camera equipment and make my way to the main house.
On my way past, though, one more adjective pops into my head, unbidden.
Complicated Annie Li. And that’s the absolute last thing I need, with everything going on in my life right—
A sound cuts through the silence.
I freeze, and I listen.
Another.
I know, just know that I shouldn’t—am absolutely positive, in fact—but I make my way towards where it’s coming from, towards a window of the pool house with a faint light illuminating—
No.
Yes.
Hell yes.
Another sound—a moan.
The dim light of a laptop screen illuminates Annie. And hey, as far as lascivious peeping can go, it’s ain’t too bad, ‘cause she’s entirely under the covers, but there is no doubt as to what’s going on, what she’s doing, or what she’s watching, even if I can’t see the screen.
Fuck yes.
Fuck—
My ring light falls out of my hand and drops to the ground with muffled thud.
I throw myself on the ground right behind it, lay myself as flat as possible, the only thing still up in the air my, well. You know.
Lying here in the dirt, seconds away from being put on a national sexual offender list, some new adjectives pop into my lizard brain.
Creepy Nico Giannuzzi.
Fucked in the head Nico Giannuzzi.
Hard as fuck Nico Giannuzzi.
With that, I creep away like an ashamed fuckin’ Labrador, tail and erection between my legs.
From: ali@
To: chef@
Thank you, Chef. That helped me more than you’ll ever know. And if I ever get brave enough to say nice things out loud, I hope I say them half as well as you did.
I’d like to think that I’m fighting for something better, but right now, I’m just fighting to keep my head above water.
From: chef@
To: ali@
Anytime. Don’t be afraid. Open up and make everyone listen. Be brave and soft and loud and aggressively Ali.
People will want to hear your voice. I know I do.
Annie is leaning against the passenger-side door when I walk outside in the morning.
I approach slowly, not sure what Annie adjective I’m going to get this morning. I don’t have the energy for hissing and spitting Annie, but will be able to make do with grumpy.
“Morning,” she grunts.
Grumpy Annie I can work with, especially if I can’t look her in the eye after last night. “Hey.”
Suddenly, in the span of two blinks, she’s in my space and thrusting two things into my hands. “Here,” she mumbles, before scurrying away and into the passenger seat of the car.
I stand there a little confused, now holding a large book and a cup, its liquid sloshed over and onto my hand because of the force of Annie’s assault. “What is this?”
She shrugs, busying herself with the books at her feet.
Oh boy. This is some good shit. “Annie,” I press.
She ignores me.
I plant my feet, trying but failing to smother a grin. “Did you get me gifts?”
“No.”
“Then what is this?”
She opens a book at random and begins flipping through it. “I was already in town getting coffee for myself, and I stopped in this adorable bookstore to look around after… so I just…” She waves a hand in a way that’s probably meant to convey nonchalance. “Got some random shit,” she finishes.
Fuck it. I’m grinning from ear-to-fuckin’-ear.
“This random, gift-like shit? I’m gonna look this gift horse right in its damn mouth.
You ready?” I taste the drink. “A tasty, probably overpriced latte and...” I look down at the book.
My smile grows even wider. “A cookbook that focuses on the science of cooking.”
“A total coincidence,” she mumbles.
“A coincidental purchase of a book related to my entire life’s work.”
“It was being displayed on the counter next to the register. Saw it while I was paying.”
“This book published ten years ago was being displayed on the counter next to the register?”
She finally looks at me. “You know this book?”
“Of course I know this book. This lady works in my field.” I forgot it existed, though. Maybe I’ll flip through it and send some ideas over to Ali.
“Oh.” She looks a little dejected.
“I never got the book, though.”
She looks up again.
I shrug. “Just read her academic papers. But now it’ll be cool to look through it.”
She makes a noncommittal noise and looks back at her book. The book may as well be upside down, the cursory way she’s flippin’ through it, but her posture is more relaxed.
“Thanks for the random shit, Annie,” I say cheerfully, before walking around the car and getting into the driver’s seat.
Annie grunts.
I take another sip of the latte. “Still seems pretty gift-like, though.”
Her hands clench into little fists. “I was trying to thank you, okay?!” she finally bursts out. “It’s kind. A kind thing to do. To get you a latte and a book.”
Oh boy. This is some real good shit. She’s red as a freakin’ tomato and I’m pretty sure I can hear her molars grinding together.
I grin. “I knew you’d try to kill me eventually, but never thought in a million years Annie Li would try to kill me with kindness.”
“Believe me—when I kill you, it won’t be with kindness.”
I can’t help myself. I bust out laughing.
Annie rolls her eyes.
I pull out of the driveway.
“Thank you,” she says after a long moment, so soft I almost miss it.
“For giving you a hug?”
She doesn’t answer until we pull onto the highway. “For not leaving me,” she finally says to the window. “And you didn’t just hug me. You held me together,” she murmurs.
I blink. Broken Annie Li?
Forget Mount Olympus. Forget Jon Snow. I am The Whole Freakin’ Wall.
A jillion feet tall and a gazillion miles long, made of solid ice, constructed with magic and defending the Annie Realm against everything scary and dangerous and painful in the north.
I have a sudden and distinct urge to throw a large rock and roar and pound my chest like a fuckin’ gorilla and protect this new, soft and vulnerable Annie Li at all costs, baring my damn teeth at anyone who dares cross her. Complicated, be damned.
“Anytime,” I finally respond.
We don’t say another word to one another until an hour into our drive, when I look over and see that Annie is again crying and trying to hide it.
My heart sinks. “What’s wrong?” I’ll take him or her or them or it on in a heartbeat.
Annie glances over and sniffs. “No unsolicited ‘honey’s’ or knee touches?”
“You just called them unsolicited for a reason, sweetheart.”
She shakes her head, but I see a smile out of the corner of my eye. I ignore the way my chest puffs up.
“What are you crying about?” I try again.
She gestures at the book open in her lap. “It’s beautiful.”
“What’s so beautiful it made you cry, Annie Li?”
“When you sat there and looked pretty for an hour straight while being my chauffeur.”
“You think I’m pretty?”
“I told you, when your mouth is shut—yes.”
I heave a sigh.
We’re silent for a few minutes.
She starts so quietly I almost miss it with the wind flying through the open window.
“There’s this scene where this guy and a girl are walking through the countryside, and everything is written so delicately, like one wrong word could shatter the moment,” she says.
“She starts talking about her past, about how lonely she feels, and you can sense that she’s slipping away from him even though they’re right next to each other.
And then she says, ‘I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?’ and… it hurts.”
What the fuck? I look over at her. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Annie sound like this. I got a taste of it earlier, but… I don’t have the words to describe this Annie. Not like Annie does. Heartbroken, almost. The bluster all gone. I glance over at the book cover. Norwegian Wood.