Love Like Theirs

She reached for a knife to begin cutting limes and promptly had it removed from her hand by Maxine.

“Let me do that, okay, hon?” Max said with a giggle.

Shelby nodded.

Once everything was ready and the shot glasses filled, David, Rob, Keira, Maxine, and Shelby took their positions in front of them. They salted their hands and each picked up a shot glass, readying themselves for the countdown.

“Three, two, one!” Shelby cried.

Keira necked the shot back. The liquor burned her throat immediately. The taste was intense and she swallowed quickly, feeling heat race down her gullet. Wincing, she licked the salt quickly, then grabbed a lime wedge and sucked on it.

With watering eyes, she looked over at her friends. Shelby pulled her own lime out of her mouth and threw it onto the countertop, before suddenly retching. Then she turned and threw up violently in the sink.

David burst out laughing, and hurried over to comfort her. Maxine followed suit, discarding her lime and giggling loudly.

Keira was left just with Rob. She looked over at him. He was laughing, his lime still wedged in his mouth.

“Shelby is such a lightweight,” he said, taking it out finally.

Keira took her own lime out of her mouth. The tequila reached her stomach, and warmth spread all through her.

“It’s not her fault,” she said, smiling. “There aren’t many five-foot-nothing, hundred-pound women who can hold their liquor.”

“You’re doing okay,” he commented.

Keira patted her newly rounded stomach as if it were an explanation.

“So, anyway,” she said. “What did you think of your shot?”

“It was all right,” Rob replied, shrugging nonchalantly. “But I’ve gotta admit, I’m more of a beer guy. Thought I’d give it a try.”

“I commend you,” Keira replied.

She could feel her cheeks getting warm from the mixture of wine and liquor. For the first time in days, she felt willing and able to have a conversation.

“So Rob, what have you been up to for the last…” She counted in her head. “…seven years?”

“Regenerating every cell in my body,” he said.

Keira frowned with confusion. “Huh?”

“Seven years. That’s how long it takes for every cell in your body to have regenerated,” he explained. “There’s a theory that it’s why people get a seven-year itch in relationships.”

“Oh,” Keira said. “I don’t think I’ll ever reach seven years in a relationship.”

Rob laughed. “No. Me neither. I can do one. Sometimes two. But anything beyond that is unknown territory.”

“Same,” Keira replied. She could tell the alcohol had already loosened her tongue somewhat. It felt nice to enjoy communicating again. She reached for the tequila. “Another?”

Rob raised his eyebrows. “Sure.”

Keira poured them each another shot. They took it in turn to salt their hands, and then this time, she counted them in. “Three, two, one!”

They took the shot in unison, slamming their glasses down at the same time, licking their salted hands and reaching for the lime slices. They both went for the same piece, and Keira playfully batted Rob’s hand away, snatching it up from him. She sucked it, laughing, then took it from her lips.

“That was funn – ” she began, but her words were cut off when Rob suddenly lunged in and kissed her. Keira pushed him away, horrified. “HEY!” she shouted. “What the hell was that?”

Rob looked stunned. “What do you mean?” he demanded. “You were flirting with me.”

“NO I wasn’t!” Keira said back. Worse than having someone’s lips on hers without consent was the accusation that she’d given him some kind of green light to do it when she most definitely hadn’t.

“Oh, please,” Rob replied, looking incensed. “Why did you keep looking at me then? Why did you offer me another drink?”

“Since when was looking akin to flirting?” Keira replied.

“Um, ever since our species evolved distinct male and female parts?” Rob shot back.

He looked furious. Keira realized then that he was actually inebriated. He’d been holding it well before, but with those two shots of tequila in quick succession, he’d clearly crossed over the line of what his body could handle, and he was suddenly looking very disheveled.

Keira turned away, not prepared to have a discussion with a drunken idiot over the nuances of flirting. But as she walked away she was stunned by Rob grabbing her arm, attempting to hold her back.

“Hey,” he said. “You should apologize.”

“What?” she demanded, the tequila swilling in her stomach giving her confidence. “YOU should apologize. I haven’t done anything.”

“You led me on!”

Keira felt rage take over. “You’re a pig!” she cried out, reaching for the closest glass of alcohol. She found a discarded, full wine glass and threw its contents into Rob’s face.

She hurried away, grabbing her coat and scurrying from the house before anyone had a chance to stop her. She didn’t want Maxine or Shelby tailing her, trying to comfort her. She just wanted to go home.

Luckily, as she rushed down the street, a cab was coming her way, its light on. She hailed it.

It slowed at the curb and she leapt inside, telling the driver Bryn’s address. As she sped away, she saw Maxine and Shelby hurrying onto the doorstep, looking for her. She waved meekly at them from the back of the cab as it passed, then hunkered down in her seat. Humiliation made her cheeks burn. She rummaged in her purse, grabbing her cell phone to text Shelby an apology. But instead of messaging her friend, she found herself sending a message to Cristiano instead. Three simple words.

I miss you.

CHAPTER TWO

When Keira woke the next day, a feeling of mortification struck her. Memories of the party came flooding back, of the tequila shots with her friends and the whole unpleasant experience with Rob kissing her, and her throwing a drink in his face. But that wasn’t the worst thing. The worst thing that had happened was that she’d texted Cristiano.

She heaved back the covers, getting tangled in them in her haste to find her cell phone and falling flat on her ass. From the hard floor, she groaned and reached up to the coffee table, getting hold of it.

Once the phone was in her hands, Keira became too terrified to look. She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the button, before finally swallowing her anguish and pressing down.

Immediately, she saw she’d received several text notifications. Her heart leapt into her throat. Could one be from Cristiano? She clicked on the icon.

The first was Maxine asking if she was okay. The next; Maxine, again, asking her to let her know she got home okay. Then several from Shelby writing a stream of unconnected words spelled incorrectly, another from Maxine from earlier this morning stating that if Keira didn’t get in touch by midday she’d call the police, and finally one from her mom asking if she’d ever tried coconut milk in her latte. But nothing from Cristiano.