The Appearance of Annie van Sinderen

“Come on,” Tyler shouts, snapping me back to myself.

He and the girl are already halfway down the block, laughing and waiting for me. I’m here, right now. My life is happening, right now. My life is waiting for me. I cast one last doleful look up at the silent face of the town house, and turn to go.

? ? ?

The next bar is right around the corner, and when we tumble through the door and into the throng of kids holding beer glasses, I spot her.

Maddie is already leaning over the edge of the bar, waving a hand and trying to get the bartender’s attention. Her arms are pressed together, deepening her cleavage, and she’s coiled her dyed-black hair into a huge beehive on the top of her head, finishing off her look with 1950s cat-eye glasses. When she spots me, she smiles and lifts her chin in recognition. I elbow through the crowd, and when I reach her side, my hands go around her waist.

“Hey,” she says with some surprise. “Take your time, why don’t you. I was just about to give up on you guys.”

“Hey,” I say, nuzzling behind her ear where the laurel leaf tattoo curls up into her hair. “Hey.” She smells good. Like lemon. She smells real. She’s warm, and soft, and real, and she’s been waiting for me. Maddie is what’s good. Maddie Miss Madwoman Malou.

“Whew.” She mock-waves her hand in front of her nose. “What is that, tequila?”

Without answering, I pull her to me, and before she can say anything, I press my mouth to hers.

I love how soft girls are. Their skin. Their lips. The delicious fleshiness of their bodies, smooth and perfect under my hands, which always feel too rough somehow. Sometimes they’re so soft I can’t believe I’m allowed to touch them. Maddie’s lips are so soft that at first I imagine I can’t even feel them, they are just this impression of perfect warmth on my mouth. But then, responding to my pressure, her lips move, open, and I taste plummy wine and an underlying lemony sweetness. My hands wander, I’m not even sure where they’re going, but when one moves up the back of Maddie’s neck and into her hair I sigh with pleasure, because the nape of her neck is soft, and her hair, that glossy dyed-black hair, is tangling around my fingers, softer still.

Her eyes close, and she leans into me, impervious to the crush of people around us, the din of other kids clamoring for drinks, for music, shouting conversations. Her weight moves against me, and I feel the soft swell of her breasts press into my chest. The pressure of them makes my breathing go faster. My other hand moves around her waist, on instinct, finding the small of her back and drawing her closer to me with urgency. Her hands are in my hair, and my skin tingles where her fingertips touch me, along my cheek, behind my ears. Our lips move, hunting for each other, and the world starts to fall away.

“Nice!” Tyler shouts in my ear, shattering the perfect bubble of Maddie’s kiss.

He claps me on the back and comes in for a high five, but stops short with a laugh when he sees our faces. Maddie and I drop each other and both turn back to face the bar, our cheeks hot and red. Maddie reaches up to adjust her cat-eye glasses, which have been knocked askew. I leave Tyler’s hand hanging in the air, but he covers by dropping it to the girl’s shoulder and giving her a brotherly shake. The girl claps, laughing at us.

“Scuse me!” Maddie calls out to the bartender, too loudly. “Can I get another Malbec? And he wants a tequila shot. Thanks.”

The bartender grunts an assent.

Maddie’s fingers drum on the top of the bar. She looks at the ceiling.