Roseanne should have strategized about meeting Fran later that day, but instead she sat at the bar in the kitchen with her laptop and googled oxytocin. She knew a little about the love hormone from studying lovebirds, but she wanted to find out more for reasons she wasn't yet ready to admit.
She clicked on a link and read. "Oxytocin is a neurotransmitter...blah blah...that's boring." She wanted the juicy details, not the technical ones. Roseanne glanced at her cell phone when it rang. It was Jennie. She paused, hit the reject button, and made a mental note to call her later. Jennie would talk too long, and Roseanne wanted to review the website before Lisa woke up.
She scrolled down the page, stopped when she reached the interesting part, and silently read.
People who excite romantic feelings in us trigger an increase in oxytocin levels. It affects the body in a myriad of ways, such as shaky knees, flushed cheeks, racing heart, sharing intimate details, less need for sleep, and sexual arousal.
That wasn't good. Roseanne had stayed awake half the night thinking about how much dancing with Lisa had affected her. It'd felt so good to be in her arms, touching in all the right places. She'd never been so turned on by a slow dance before, even with Jennie. Roseanne placed her hands on her hot cheeks and felt light-headed. This was probably a heavy dose of guilt and not an overload of the love hormone. She focused back on the screen.
There is a strong correlation between oxytocin and the intensity of an orgasm.
Roseanne gasped. That hit close to home. She very rarely had an orgasm with Jennie. Roseanne had always blamed herself, but maybe she just wasn't romantically attracted to her. She vigorously shook her head. That was crazy talk. They were perfect together. Weren't they?
"Whatcha looking at?"
Roseanne slammed the computer lid shut when she heard Lisa's voice.
"Nothing." That didn't sound believable even to Roseanne's ears, but luckily Lisa didn't seem suspicious.
Lisa took a carton of orange juice out of the fridge, poured a glass, and sat opposite Roseanne. "So today's the day."
"For what?"
"Aren't you meeting Fran at noon?"
"Right." Roseanne waved her hand.
"You okay?" Lisa gazed at her curiously.
"I'm fine." Roseanne wasn't about to admit that her mind was still on orgasms.
"So what's your lovebird plan?"
Roseanne chewed on her bottom lip. She hadn't exactly been honest with Lisa about the lovebirds. It's the least she could do after Lisa had opened up about her past.
"I need to tell you something," Roseanne said. "I sorta lied a little about the lovebirds."
"Wait a second. You're not looking for figs or lovebirds?"
"No. I am. But it's"—Roseanne glanced around to make sure Lisa's drunk friend hadn't walked in—"Madagascar lovebirds."
Lisa stared, stone-faced. What did Roseanne expect? Lisa didn't know birds. This was going to take some explaining.
"The lovebirds on Fran's farm are extremely rare. They're found only on the island of Madagascar. There have been rumors for years about a flock that escaped from an aviary, but no one has managed to photograph them. This is the bird story of the decade, and no one knows about it but me."
