You, Again(107)

JOSH IS VAGUELY aware of the constant flow of the last of the joggers and race walkers streaming past, gazing at the fireworks exploding behind the trees. Nobody seems to notice a couple (a couple!) passionately making out against the unsteady metal barrier.

They’re the only two people in a crowd of two thousand who aren’t looking up.

He doesn’t care that the weight of the melted snow in her clothes and hair has made her a little more challenging to carry. He doesn’t care that the PopSocket on her phone, stored in her bra, is cutting into his collarbone.

She’s here. Her ass is literally in his hands.

And she loves him.

“I want to hear you say it,” he says between messy, snow-soaked kisses and heavy breaths. “Out loud.”

She doesn’t pretend not to know what he means this time. It’s a fucking miracle.

“I love you,” she says, almost shyly, into his ear, like she’s still getting used to it.

He nuzzles into her neck, closing his eyes.

“What was that?”

He pulls his head back to see her face.

“I love you.” She blinks against the snowflakes, but she’s meeting his gaze. Finally.

Maybe he’s pushing his luck, but…

“Say it again.”

Her eyes narrow a bit and he feels her hand slide down into his jacket pocket and pull out his phone, turning it around for him to unlock it with facial recognition. It takes a couple tries.

“Wow. Your phone is unfamiliar with you actually smiling,” she teases.

“Pointing out when someone is smiling is the fastest way to get them to stop, you know.”

“Oh, I’m positive I can get you to do it again,” she says, the corners of her mouth curving up into what is—objectively—the most beautiful smile in the world.

She types for a few seconds before holding it out to him, with the Notes app covering the screen.

Take me back to your place and make me scream it



Well, she’s not wrong about her ability to produce smiles.

Ari kisses him again, as he allows himself to feel something like honest-to-God optimism without trying to rationalize his way out of it. For once.

Ari gives Josh one of those looks like she has another quip to add, but she bites her slightly swollen lip instead.

“So, should we go back to the apart—”

“Yes.” She just looks at him with a soft little smile that he’s certain he’ll never get sick of seeing. “There’s something I’ve been waiting to do with you for literal years.”





30


“YOU NEED A STAND MIXER to make breakfast?” Three minutes into the cooking lesson the next morning, Ari has already splattered vanilla-infused egg custard on the stuyvesant high school model u.n. T-shirt Josh let her borrow. “What is this sorcery?”

“To whip the crème fra?che,” he replies, like this is an obvious conclusion. “This is what you miss when you run away before the sun comes up.”

“I have a feeling this entire relationship would have gone differently if you had fed me that first night.”

“Glad I’m putting my best foot forward with matzo brei, in that case.” He’s breaking sheets of matzo into perfectly even pieces. “So, what did you think?”

“Of the movie?” She smiles, whisking the custard around the metal bowl. “I liked it.”

“I knew you would.” He scowls at a jagged piece and hands it to her.

“Well, you did say ‘it’s a perfect fucking movie’ about twelve times,” she says, munching on the matzo. “But it is a nice love story between the hot guy, Andre the Giant, and Mandy Patinkin.”

“You saw The Princess Bride and came away with ‘threesome’ as the conclusion?”

“No,” she says, placing the custard bowl on the counter. “My conclusion is that the secret to watching an entire movie with someone is having sex beforehand.”

“I’m happy to test that hypothesis anytime.” He slides a glass butter dish toward her. “Melt this in the skillet until it coats the bottom. Medium heat.”

“So dare I ask”—she sneaks another piece of matzo—“why do you have so many individually wrapped Oral-B toothbrushes in your bathroom? Lots of overnight visitors whom you impress with your stand mixer and film criticism?”

“Yeah, dozens,” he mutters. “Shockingly, I did plan on having sex again in my lifetime.”

“In that case”—Ari grabs her phone—“I think I should change your contact name back to ‘Biggest Boy.’?”

He gives her an exasperated sigh. “Okay, then I’m updating yours, too.” He reaches for his own device.

“Ooh, what am I going to be? ‘Pants Hater’? ‘Crumb Demon’? A simple ‘Brat,’ perhaps?”

Josh holds out his phone so she can see the new moniker.

GIRLFRIEND



She glances from the screen to his face, a different emotion slightly rearranging his features with every passing second of silence.

Ari looks back down at the phone in her hand and types. He braces himself—physically tenses up—when she turns it around to show him the screen.