Then Dave put a gentle stop to it with that signature smack of lips ending a kiss. His hand was on the side of her face, his eyes set on hers. She smiled at him and was about to move back in when his eyes flitted to something in the rearview mirror. “Shit,” Dave said, like the wind had just been knocked out of him. Julia looked behind and saw Gretchen’s van behind them. The door was half-open, Gretchen’s face already in tears. She was wearing her hair in this side-ponytail thing that should have looked ridiculous but somehow worked.
The sound of the van door slamming shut rang out in the stillness of the afternoon. Dave quickly pulled away from Julia, one hand already on the door handle. “I’m sorry,” he said, although Julia wasn’t sure who that was meant for. She remained frozen in the car as Dave tried to chase after Gretchen, who’d already started her car.
Julia watched it all through the tiny slit of a back windshield in her Miata. Gretchen crying, Dave looking miserable, trying to explain himself. It was only a few moments until Gretchen peeled away, but for Julia it had felt like a very long time, like some uncomfortably extensive scene from a soap opera, all close-ups and faces stretched into exaggerated misery. When Gretchen was gone, Dave lingered for a long moment at the edge of his driveway, hands dropped at his sides, his face hidden from view. It felt like a moment in limbo, like the slightest breeze would either send Dave chasing after Gretchen or pull him back to Julia. Julia held her breath, as if that was all it would take to sway him.
“Please,” she found herself whispering. “Please.”
A car drove past, the driver switching radio stations, casting furtive glances at the road ahead, oblivious of what Julia was about to lose or gain. “Please,” she said again. It took Dave a while, a hesitation she would allow him as long as he got back in the car. His arms were at his sides, his head hanging low. It felt like his decision would be based on something slight, the flapping of butterfly wings somewhere far off sending Dave away from her. When he turned around and slowly slid back in, Julia felt herself ease.
Dave smacked his head back and hit the car seat, his eyes closed, his face entirely stress again. “Fuck.”
Julia froze, not knowing what to say or do, until she remembered that this was still Dave. She was still herself. Gretchen might be heartbroken right now, and Julia wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But she’d just kissed Dave, not for the first time, and definitely not for the last. After all, he was here. He’d chosen Julia.
“You know,” Julia said. “My instinct right now is to be a supportive girlfriend. But I have no idea what that would entail, in this specific situation. So I’m gonna be a supportive best friend and say this: You wanna go get mac ‘n’ cheese?”
She didn’t get as much of a reaction as she’d hoped, just Dave’s little snort/laugh thing. Not overwhelmingly reassuring. Then Dave opened his eyes and smiled at her. “You know how wonderfully bizarre it is to hear you call yourself my girlfriend?”
“I think I do,” she said, and leaned back into him.
LAZY
BEFORE, WHEN DAVE had dreamed about love, this is what it looked like:
It was lazy. Love was lazy as hell. Love laid around in bed, warm from the sheets and the sunlight pouring into the room. Love was too lazy to get up to close the blinds. Love was too comfortable to get up and go pee. Love took too many naps, it watched TV, but not really, because it was too busy kissing and napping. Love was also funny, which somehow made the bed more comfortable, the laughter warming the sheets, softening the mattress and the lovers’ skin.
Dave was staring at Julia’s face. He was lying beside her, his head a few inches above the warmth of her skin, the pink hair that he loved finding all over his room. Dave tilted his head to the side, his eyes open wide.
“You are such a weirdo.”
Dave blinked, bobbed his neck.