“Obviously,” I toss back loudly before I dive under and execute a shark attack that sends him into peals of laughter.
We take turns on the slide then devise a series of races, and the whole time I steal occasional glances at my neighbor’s yard, hoping to catch a glimpse of her over the wooden fence between our homes.
Hoping she’ll hear our shouts and splashes.
Hoping she might peer over the fence, wave, and say, “Can we join you?”
I’d say, “Yes, of course,” and then we’d go for a dip.
That’s appealing for so many reasons. Far too many reasons, like bikinis and droplets of water sliding down soft skin.
Because in my imaginary life, she’d wear a tiny bikini and Ethan would be in bed, and the guaranteed tastegasms would be of an entirely different variety.
The next morning, I return the clean Pyrex dish to her deck with some brownies in it and a note on the pan that says, Good in the kitchen, as promised.
Later that evening, I find a note under my door that reads: Oh, so very good.
This time when I study her penmanship, it seems neat but also a little more swoopy and seductive than before.
Perhaps I’m reading too much into green beans and brownies. Or perhaps I’m wanting the wrong things from the woman next door.
10
Liam
It’s tempting, I admit, to use the tagline “Good in bed” above my photo.
After all, that kind of slogan would entice me to click on someone’s dating profile.
I didn’t work on it the night I talked to January after my ride, but a few days later, I remove my sunglasses, setting them down on the sidewalk table where I’m indulging in an early evening drink with my sister, and I type those words into the profile I’m creating.
“What do you think?” I swivel my iPad to face my sister. Her son, Spencer, only a few years older than Ethan, is playing Frisbee in the town square with him as a squadron of ducks quack at them.
Kerri peers at the Boyfriend Material app on the screen, then recoils. “I don’t want to hear about you being a good shag.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not the point. The point is what do you think about it as a headline for a dating app?”
“Yes, that’s still my answer, brother of mine,” she says. “I don’t want to think about your dating, your mating, your shagging, or your snogging.”
I cover my heart with my hand, as if overcome. “Aw, you still think of me as your sweet little brother?”
She arches a brow. “I don’t believe I’ve ever thought of you as sweet. Does anybody? Because you’re not, actually.”
I tut, shaking my head. “I’m very, very sweet.”
“No. A pop tart is sweet. A steal of a deal on a bottle of wine is sweet. ‘Sweet’ is a word that literally no one has used to describe you. You are dry, droll, and sarcastic.”
I shoot her a look. “That sounds exactly like you.”
She preens, lifting her glass. “Takes one to know one.”
“So, from one droll person to another, neither one of us is sweet?”
“That is true. But only one of us is trying to get on a dating app,” she points out. Then her tone softens. “So tell me, what are you looking for in a woman?”
An image of my next-door neighbor sashays before my eyes.
Her lush brown hair.
Her inked arms.
Her pouty lips.
And most of all, her quick mouth and her agile wit.
But it’s crazy to think of January in this context. Getting involved with the next-door neighbor is a recipe for trouble. Plus, she’s already drawn her lines clearly. She’s not interested in a man right now.
I soldier on, stopping to take a drink of my red wine. “Someone smart, funny, and kind, who loves animals and doesn’t want to play the field.”
“Don’t forget—she needs to like cocky men who brag about their bedroom prowess.”
“I still say it’s a brilliant tagline, and since you’re not the best person to give me advice on this subject, I’m going to ask someone who is,” I say, then send a quick text to my friend Summer in New York City. She’s been good mates with my cousin Oliver since they were thirteen, so I’ve come to know her too, and have relied on her for occasional advice about women.
* * *
Liam: Question. Should I use the headline “Good in Bed” for a dating profile? I feel like it’s incredibly clear and totally direct.
* * *
She replies with several GIFs of a woman spitting out a drink of water. I show her replies to my sister. Kerri laughs and gestures to the screen. “See? Even your friend thinks it’s a bad idea.”
I study the GIFs then stab my finger against the screen for emphasis. “No, she’s amused by it. That’s what this says. She thinks I’m funny.”
