Nicole

“I’m telling you,” he said, as I unscrewed the cap to the thermos and peered in. “If they offered you a million dollars, you would star in a commercial for Marlboro cigarettes.”###
I took a tentative sip then recoiled. The whiskey was a skim across the top of the syrupy iced tea. I restored the plastic top, tightened it, then shook. “You truly don’t know me,” I said.###
He hooked his arm around my waist and pulled me down next to him on the log. I would never admit that it felt good to be pressed up against him, if only for the body heat. When he let go, I was twice as cold. Sitting beside a lake in March certainly wasn’t my idea of a good time. It wasn’t even beautiful out in Ramapo Reservation today; the sky was white.###
“You’re here and you’re in totally inappropriate shoes,” he said. “When I called you this morning I could have placed a million dollar bet on those two facts.” He took a swig from the thermos I passed him, muttering, “And she says I don’t know her.”###
A whirl of birds expanded and contracted overhead. I imagined throwing a net over them and watching it pulse. “I should have listened to my inner voice saying, ‘stay in bed!’” I said. “I had my reservations.”###
“Is that word play?” he asked. “Your reservations? Because we’re on one? Is that what they taught you at your fancy college?”###
I grabbed the thermos. The drink tasted better now that it was mixed. “Are you playing the townie high school boyfriend character?” I asked. “Your college was just as fancy as mine—it just wasn’t as good.”###
“There aren’t actually any Indians here, right?” he asked, suddenly looking around at the tall, leafless trees, the subtle ripple across the slate-dull lake. “I mean, it’s New Jersey.”###
My back ached from sitting up so straight and strange on the log, all my muscle taut to keep from rolling off. He took the thermos and I watched the vibrations in his throat as he swallowed. He hung his head when he was finished drinking, leaning over so it lolled between his knees. He was balding on top, his hair there soft and thin like a child’s.###
I reached over and traced the red Marlboro logo on the thermos with my finger, traced around the rectangle, traced down to his hand, traced the fingernail on his pointer finger. It was cleaner than any boy’s fingernail had a right to be. “This was your dad’s, huh?” I asked. “I remember him coming in with it, that time his fishing trip got rained out and he caught us in your basement.”###
He twists his head to the side, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “He yelled, ‘cool down!’ and threw the water at us.”###
“I wanted to die,” I said, then covered my mouth.###
But he just shook his head. “No you didn’t,” he said, squeezing me to his side. “Even then we knew it was funny.”