Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List. Rachel Cohn

in the foyer between our apartments that I say, “Oh fuck!”

      “What?” Naomi asks.

      “I forgot something. I’ll be right back.”

      “What did you forget?”

      “My dick, okay? You can’t possibly expect me to go out without my dick! I’ll be right back.”

      I close the door before she can get out another line. I run back to my room, open the closet, and see Bruce the Second standing there in the dark.

      “I want you to stay,” I say. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

      He nods. But he doesn’t look happy.

      I figure it out.

      “You’re not a cheap thrill, and this isn’t a mindfuck,” I tell him. I don’t know what it is, but at least I know it’s not either of those.

      He steps into the dark shadows of the room. He touches my shoulder. So damn earnest, and I so damn want to kiss him.

      “I promise I won’t be long,” I say.

      “Go,” he tells me. “I’ll be here.”

      I’m almost out the door when he says, “Gum.”

      “What?”

      He throws me a pack of Orbit.

      “Tell her you went back for gum.”

      “Thanks,” I say. I could get used to a guy who knows his way around an alibi.

      I head back through the apartment. Naomi’s waiting outside in the elevator. I have no doubt she’s been holding it this whole time. It strikes me for the gazillionth time that she is completely fucking beautiful. And I love it, because my love for her has absolutely nothing to do with that. I love her because she’ll hold the elevator for me even if heading downstairs without me would make more of a point. I love her because if she sees a shirt that she knows will look good with my eyes, she’ll buy it for me, even if she can’t afford it. I love her because when I feel like putting my head in an oven, she’ll gently take it out and bake me cookies instead. I love her because she can curse like a sailor and could no doubt sail like a sailor, too, if she put her mind to it. I love her because even though she doesn’t always tell the truth, she always feels like she should. I love her because I don’t need to love her all the time.

      “Got your dick?” she asks.

      “What do you care?” I say.

      She snorts, hits the lobby button, and tells me, “All I know is that this party better not suck. If it does, you’re going to be one dead Ducky.”

      I feel disloyal. Because as the elevator heads down, I feel like I’m moving away from something instead of toward something. The love I have for Naomi is the kind that’s understood. But I feel compelled to go back to the thing I don’t completely understand.

       He’d go around and open the door for me, wouldn’t he?

      I can’t let Naomi know what I’m thinking.

      This is very treacherous ground.