When Sparks Fly

The buzzer goes off, signaling that the guys are in the lobby, waiting to be let in. I cup Avery’s cheek in my palm and tip her head to the side, pressing my lips to hers. “Come on, babe, let me in.”

For several long seconds her lips remain pursed.

“I wouldn’t push your buttons if I didn’t know how much you love it,” I whisper and suck her bottom lip between mine.

She relents, lips parting, tongue stroking out to meet mine.

The buzzer goes off again.

“It’s going to be a long evening.” She pushes on my chest. “I’ll let them in. And you need to be on your best behavior unless you want to let the cat out of the bag.”

* * *

“What’d you do with that container of peanut butter brownies?” Jerome riffles through the bags of snacks sitting on the floor beside the coffee table.

I’m currently sitting in the recliner on the opposite side of the room from Avery; otherwise, I’m liable to do something that will give us away. As it is, I’ve caught myself almost calling her babe at least three times in the past few hours.

“I haven’t seen it. I thought it was in with the Funyuns.” Mark loads up another nacho chip and sets it on his plate.

“You mean this container?” Avery holds up an empty Tupperware with a lazy grin.

She’s only had one beer, but her eyes are droopy and her blinks a little slow. I assume it has to do with this afternoon’s batting practice.

Jerome’s eyes flare. “Did you eat all of those?”

Avery makes a face. “They’re my favorite. Sorry. I didn’t want to share, even though they tasted a little weird.”

“Oh shit.” Jerome and Mark give each other a look.

“Oh shit what?” I ask.

Jerome runs his hands down his thighs. “Uh, those were pot brownies.”

Avery isn’t on painkillers anymore, thank God, but she’s never been much of one for any kind of medication or recreational drugs. Usually she’s a two-beer max kind of drinker. It was helpful back in college when the rest of us used to get shit-faced and she was the designated driver.

“How many were in there?” It’s a pretty big container.

“Four, I think?”

“I guess that explains why I’m so thirsty.” Avery licks her lips and makes a smacking sound. “My mouth is super dry.”

“Isn’t orange juice supposed to help counteract the effects of THC?” Mark asks.

“Oh! I would love some orange juice right now! So refreshing!”

“I’ll get you a glass.” I push out of the recliner.

“Yay! You’re the best, Deck!” Avery bounces a couple of times, tipping a bowl of popcorn over, kernels spilling in her lap and onto the floor. “Uh-oh, looks like I made a mess.” Avery tries to lean over to right the bowl, but ends up sending it tumbling to the floor.

“It’s okay, Ave, I’ll get it.” Mark sweeps popcorn off the couch cushions into the bowl while Avery tries to aim pieces into it from where she’s sitting. Mostly she misses and gets Mark in the face. Or maybe that’s the point.

“Oh man, this is going to be entertaining.” Jerome chuckles as the giggles set in for Avery.

“You should tape this! It’ll be like another in-prational video. In-spatial video.” She makes a duck face and waves her hand around in the air. “You know what I mean.”

I cross my arms. “This is pretty far from inspirational, Ave.”

She stops aiming for the bowl and chucks popcorn at Mark, trying to get it to land in his hoodie. “Come on! Look at how good my aim is!” She beans him on the forehead and the cheek, and a kernel ends up in his beer glass, sending her into hysterics that has tears streaming down her face.

I pour orange juice into a plastic glass, because I don’t trust that she’s going to be able to manage anything breakable at this point. “Nice work,” I mutter to Jerome as I pass him.

“Here, take a sip of this.” I hand the glass over to Avery, who’s still laughing, but it’s died down to a reasonable giggle.

“Thanks, Deck, you’re the best nurse-friend ever. You take such great care of me.” The orange juice sloshes precariously close to the rim of the glass as she raises it. She tips it before she reaches her mouth and ends up pouring half the glass down the front of her hoodie—which is actually my hoodie.

“Oh shit!” She looks down at the front of her shirt like she can’t figure out what just happened. “I guess I missed.”

I take the glass before she can spill the rest of it and set it on the side table. “Maybe a straw would be a good idea.”

“I didn’t even get to taste it. I’m super thirsty.” She licks her fingers. “I think I need a new shirt, and maybe a different blanket.”