Looking At Us

37. megan

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz. 

     ‘’Oh my flipping God,’’ I said, pulling out my phone and messaging Shain for the hundredth time: STOP SPAMMING ME!!!!

     Cris laughed. ‘‘What’s she spamming you about.’’

     I sighed and held up my phone so he could see:

               Are you hanging out with Cris?

               Megan!!! Are you?!?!

               You’re not answering me, so that means you ARE!!!

               Are you guys KISSING?!?!?! <3

               You guys are probably kissing, aren’t you? And making out. And faaaaallling in loooooove!!!!!! <3 #ishipcregan

               answer me answer me answer me answer me ANSWER ME MEGAN!!!!!!

     Cris’s face went through different stages of expressions: confusion, awkwardness, tension, then humor. He laughed again, his deep voice hitching breathlessly. 

     ‘‘Cregan?’’ he asked. 

     ‘’I know. Apparently that’s our ship name.’’ 

     ‘‘That’s Shain’s ship name for us.’’

     I cracked a smile and unlocked the front door, adjusting my hood as rain threw up on us, like God had just drunk a gallon of soda and had discovered that he didn’t like it, so he was vomiting on the town. Cris wore nothing but a T-shirt and jeans, his Nikes soaked and making sqashing sounds whenever he walked in them. His hair dripped across his forehead, like it had decided to stretch due to the rain—the secret to growing out Cris Domnall’s hair: just add water!

     We stepped inside and I grabbed towels from the laundry room, handing both to Cris, and he wrapped one around his shoulders and the other around his head, mussing it up and then giving it back to me. His hair looked the same as it always did, except it was a few shades darker and wetter. 

     I frowned. ‘‘That’s how you get your hair to look so . . . crazy?’’

     ‘‘Crazy?’’ Cris grinned. 

     ‘‘Crazy good. Crazily untamed,’’ I added, pleased at my choice of words. 

     He smiled, wider, more genuine, like he was surprised, too. ‘’Do you like it crazy? Or should I get a buzz cut and take it all off?’’ 

     ‘’No, please don’t. I like it. Keep it. For me?’’

     He leaned in a brushed his lips against my cheek, and I closed my eyes and inhaled his minty smell. He whispered, ‘‘For you. And for me, can you make me a snack?’’

     I scoffed, thinking, Way to ruin the moment. Cris kissed my lips quickly, so that kind of made up for it. 

     We brought chips and cartons of chocolate milk up to my bedroom. Harper emerged with Pico in her arms and Jari at her feet; she examined Cris with interest, then looked at me. 

     ‘’I have a date with Drew,’’ she said. ‘‘Jari’s with you. Pico’s been out for a walk, but he needs food. Mom’s at work, Dad won’t be back until late.’’

     She stared at Cris, and I knew she recognized him from school. He was only a year younger than her. Harper looked at me. Her eyes said: I am having a conversation with you about this later. Don’t push it. 

     I took Cris and Jari and Pico into my room and put on Finding Nemo for Jari. Pico curled up beside him.

     ‘‘Your sister?’’ Cris asked. 

     I nodded. ‘‘Yeah. Harper. She’s . . . intricate.’’

     ‘‘Yeah.’’ He sat down on my bed and pulled me down with him. I put my head against his shoulder, and he kissed my temple, and Jari squealed as he watched the movie. He reached for my chocolate milk, so I gave him some. 

     Cris said, ‘‘Darrin’s lactose intolerant.’’ 

     ‘‘Really? Isn’t he ADHD, too?’’

     ‘‘Yes. He’s also crazy.’’

     I grinned. ‘’I knew that. I also know that his girlfriend is crazy, too.’’

     ‘‘Yes,’’ Cris said again, and he tilted his head so that he could kiss me. Seconds later, Jari shrieked so loud it burned my eardrums. We broke apart; Cris rubbed Jari’s head, and Jari laughed again. 

     Cris started humming a song, something from Duran Duran. I found my phone and let Planet Earth play from their album. He looked a little surprised to find that I was learning his language—a little quicker than he was learning mine, maybe, but still learning it nonetheless.

     I closed my eyes and leaned against him, and I said, ‘‘What made you break up with Cori?’’

     Cris breathed in and out. In and out. 

     ‘‘Niomi,’’ he said. 

     I frowned. ‘‘Who?’’

     ‘‘No one special. A girl that I liked before . . .’’

     ‘‘Tell me,’’ I prompted. 

     Cris sighed, like he’d discussed this before and was tired of it. ‘‘What’s there to tell? She was in my grade. She had dark hair and green eyes . . . like fresh earth and a newborn plant. She was springtime. I met her one day at work and I saw that she had—she had something that Cori didn’t.’’

     I asked, ‘‘What?’’

     ‘‘Unselfishness.’’ He met my eyes. I held my breath. 

     Cris didn’t tell me anything else, but I thought about his comparison to Cori with Niomi. Cori was a fiery desert wind that broke hearts and repaired them. She was a blazing spirit with only the hint of cold in her eyes, her blue, blue eyes. And then Niomi—the unknown girl—was this spirit of springtime, this precious dewdrop of a girl who licked your skin clean of transgression, who took your hand and lead you away from the fire, away from Cori. That’s exactly what she’d done to Cris. 

     For the rest of the afternoon, Jari laughed and watched Finding Nemo;and Cris slid his hand along my thigh before he started kissing me, long and erotic, his tongue brushing ever so softly against my lips; and Pico the dog curled onto my lap and observed two teenagers making out, and after a while Jari started to watch, too, and Cris said that we had better stop. So we did. Cris took Jari on his lap and laughed at Finding Nemo with him, and I let Pico fall asleep on my legs. Jari’s eyes closed later on, so we let him sleep, and we kissed again, and as Nemo reunited with Marlin and Dori, I found myself wondering if the unknown girl, Niomi, would steal Cris from me as well. 

     I imagined myself as Marlin, and Cori as Dori, and Cris as Nemo. And together, we would be finding Cris.