And I kiss him back. Ohhh do I kiss him back… Wanting nothing more than his taste, his body, his words. I kiss him back, wishing to know how his mind works, why his heart beats. I kiss him back, knowing that, even if we say this thing between us is only an act, it’s far from the truth.
The steps from upstairs start to creak, giving us our first warning signals. He allows for our lips to find comfort against each other one last time before he pulls back and gives me a smile that melts me faster than the rising sun melts the fallen snow. He turns me into a complete pile of mush, and I’m absolutely, positivity crazy about the feeling of being his mush.
Creak. Creakkkk.
His eyes move to the mess we made with the pancakes and the batter from earlier. “You want me to clean this up?”
I shake my head as he helps me off the countertop. I smooth out my outfit and nudge him in the opposite direction of the footsteps, toward our bedroom. It’s fine if I’m caught in the kitchen, but being caught with my fake boyfriend would just be awkward for me.
One last kiss to my nose and he disappears.
Nothing about this moment is counterfeit. Nothing about our intense connection can be tagged as a lie. Kayden may be my made-up Christmas boyfriend, but he’s far from being just an act.
That’s when I hear “Stop it, Tim!” followed by a fit of giggles and the sound of people crashing into the hallway wall. “Get over here, sexy. Mama wants to taste you some more.”
My hands shield my wide-open mouth. Oh my gosh! That’s Grandma’s voice saying some really disgusting, disturbing things. I pause and then shift my body back and forth, trying my best to think what to do next, attempting to figure out how to not throw up at the thought of my grandmother tasting someone.
Oh my gosh. Gross!
Their stumbles get closer and I slide to the ground, hiding behind the kitchen island.
“That’s right, baby. Slap Mama’s booty. Harder!”
Involuntary gagging starts now. You ever have a fantastic dream and then it slowly creeps into a nightmare? And there’s no way whatsoever to wake the hell up? Story of my night.
Kayden re-enters the kitchen through the same door by which he had just exited, and sees me crouching on the floor. “Jules, what are you—”
“Shhh! Get down here!” I whisper in panic. If I have to listen to Grandma getting some, Kayden should be by my side suffering with me! He slides down to join me just in time to hear a deep male voice call my eighty-year-old grandmother his naughty Tinkerbell, and I swear to God I pee my pants a little. It’s like in those horror movies when the killer is right around the corner from you and you are so afraid that you tinkle just a little out of fear.
The footsteps are closer and I know they are inches away from us. I can feel the island shake when this mysterious Tim character pushes my grandma up against it.
“It looks like someone made us breakfast. Here, try this pancake,” Tim laughs.
“Ohh, get the syrup. Pour it on right here,” Grandma moans. Oh my gosh I swear Grandma just moaned and everything about making out, lust, and sex is officially ruined for me. And I never want to see another freaking pancake in my life.
“Who is that?!” Kayden whispers, and my head falls to the palms of my hands.
“Some random guy, and my grandma.”
When I look up at Kayden, his face is contorted in laughter, which he is trying his best to control. My fingers find his skin and pinch him hard as I send the look of death to him.
“Tim, why don’t you get some ice cubes?” Grandma coos. My eyes shift to the refrigerator sitting directly in front of Kayden and me. Kayden’s face mirrors my ‘oh shit’ face, and we edge closer to one another, curling into a tight ball, trying to make ourselves smaller. Maybe he won’t see us?
Creak. Creakkk.
This Tim guy is getting a lot closer, and I instantly hate him because he ruined the specialness of my early morning pancake date by feeling up my grandmother with pancake syrup. It isn’t until Tim’s back is to us that the knot in my stomach forms and I realize that this Tim guy is much, much younger than Grandma. He’s also shirtless, and I see syrup dripping down his neck.
Ewwww!
When he pulls out the ice tray and his body swivels around, it’s almost impossible for him to miss us. He looks down, our eyes lock, and I gasp along with Kayden. It’s not just some random Tim guy—it’s Tim. As in Tim Faulter from the television show Goners.
He doesn’t say anything, but a smirk is plastered on his face. He tips his invisible hat at us, and all I do is wish that I am invisible, too.
He moves away from us, toward his eighty-year-old girlfriend, and I hear her squeal at what I assume
is the ice cubes finding her body.
Cue the return of the involuntary gagging.