At The Dining Table

Lisa had showered and changed. She floated into the kitchen as if she were a model on her way to a photo shoot. Her hair was air-dried and fell in effortless waves down her back. Her legs were bare almost to her buttocks. Over that she wore a men's shirt—I wondered who it had belonged to—that was buttoned so low it revealed more than it concealed. Underneath... nothing? Whatever. I wasn't going to look. And I didn't care, I told myself.

She smelled fresh, like bergamot, lavender, sandalwood, and... and? Something else I couldn't place. Something grown-up. My God, did she smell like... sex? Was there a perfume with that scent?

I, on the other hand, was wearing my soft cotton sweatshirt and grass-green leggings. Compared to her, I felt like a child in their grandparents' pajamas.

Lisa insisted on cooking for all of us. Pasta. “Don't worry, I know how to boil water. Just let me get it done.”

David didn't disagree. He opened a bottle of red wine. Poured two glasses. Then he hesitated. Looked at me. Then he poured a third, but only half-full. He gave it to me.

I took it like a winner's trophy.

Lisa talked the whole time. Of course she did. Mostly about men. About the ones who had left her. About the ones who wouldn't leave her alone. “There was this guy in Boston who waited outside my gym for three days. I ask you—is that persistent or just crazy?”

David laughed softly. “Sounds like both.”

“True.” She grinned and gave him a meaningful look. “You have to be very confident as a woman to walk around in unflattering leggings in front of a man.”

Leggings. She was targeting me, wasn't she? I shifted uneasily in my chair. Then she turned to me.

“And you, Nele? Do you have anyone who adores you at the moment?”

I shrugged. “I'm not really into admirers.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “No? You always seemed like the type that young men fly to like moths to a flame.”

Something inside me was upset by Lisa's impertinence. But maybe it was just the wine. Or the bruise on my butt, which still hurt. Or the fact that David had only had eyes for Lisa since she arrived.

“Boys don't interest me,” I said casually, raising my glass. “I prefer to tease the more mature.”

Lisa blinked. David suddenly discovered something very captivating on his plate and started poking at it.

I smiled. Cute. Harmless.

“Tease?” Lisa repeated, amused.

“Mm-hmm.” I swirled my wine glass. “It's more effective than waiting for them to fly to you.”

Lisa laughed. “Well, someone's feeling pretty frisky.”

David was still focused on his plate. He moved. Not much. Just a shift in his weight, as if he were preparing to make his escape. Lisa didn't notice—or at least she pretended not to.

“I'll tell you what,” she continued, pouring us both more wine.

“Confidence is half the battle. It doesn't matter what you're wearing—if you wear it like you're wearing a royal robe.”

I tilted my head. “Even if I'm wearing nothing?”

A thoughtful silence. But only for a moment. The pause was tiny. A fraction of a breath. “Especially if you're wearing nothing.” She raised her glass. “To teasing girls.”

David stood up hastily. “I'll get dessert,” he said. But I knew it wasn't about dessert. He had to get out. Get some air. Lisa grinned at me. “You're playing with fire, sweetie,” she said with a smirk. “You'd better know where the fire extinguisher is.”