He holds it straight up to one of the dry coals, expecting it to take off without any accelerant.
Despite myself, I laugh, loud enough that Karissa's voice temporarily wavers, but she doesn't stop to question me. I don't know shit about grilling, but starting fires? Piece of cake. It's just as much an art as it is a science, and it's clear, watching them, they don't have a resourceful bone anywhere in their bodies.
I let them fuck around for a minute, listening to them argue about how to go about it, the two others berating Paul for buying the wrong charcoal, for forgetting lighter fluid, for not knowing how to do anything. They're close to getting into a full-blown fistfight when I sigh exasperatedly, interrupting them before they throw any punches.
I don't say a word, merely slipping between the bickering boys and glancing around at their supplies, not finding much to work with, but it's enough to do the trick. A few napkins and a spray from a can of PAM grilling spray are all I need. I arrange the napkins so they're evenly distributed before turning to Paul.
He's gaping at me.
"Lighter?" I hold my hand out and he slips it in my palm with no question. I quickly flick it, lighting the edges of the napkins, ignoring the feel of the flame as it laps at my fingers. I stare at the paper as it ignites before turning away and tossing the lighter back to him. "You're welcome."
He doesn't thank me.
The idiot just gapes some more.
I stroll back over toward Karissa. She's watching me, her conversation with Melody forgotten as the girl moves on to talking to her other friends. I stall right in front of Karissa as she leans back against the picnic table, facing the water. You can see the Manhattan skyline clearly from here, the bustle of the city right across the river. Her eyes scan me before she tilts her head back. She arches an eyebrow as I stare down at her.
"You're good at that," she says.
"Good at what?"
"What you just did."
I briefly glance over at the grill. The flames flicker, burning away at the coals so intensely that the boys took a few steps away from it.
I turn back to Karissa, offering a slight shrug. "We all have our talents."
She's quiet, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she studies my face, like she's trying to riddle something out from my expression, but I keep it blank. After a moment she leans forward, craning her neck more to look up at me. "Playing with fire," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It's your specialty, right?"
My brow furrows.
"I heard you say that once," she says. "You were on the phone in the den."
She swallows thickly, like what she just said makes her nervous. My eyes are drawn to the contours of her neck. It's a beautiful thing, watching her throat muscles flex. It reminds me of how it felt that time she sucked my cock, the heat that engulfed me, the tingles, the tickles, when I felt myself slide down her slick throat.
As much as I loved it, I couldn't tolerate it for long. Fucking her is one thing—I own her, body and soul, when I'm inside of her, claiming every inch of her as my own. But when she took me in her mouth, when she peeked up at me from between my legs, the honesty in her eyes was too much to take.
That was when she owned me.
I'm scum, compared to this woman.
I should be the one on my knees.
That thought makes me laugh, and her expression shifts with confusion, as I reach over and trace my fingers along the length of her larynx, down to the dip in her throat, the notch where her necklace sits. She's wearing the one I bought her. She doesn't wear her engagement ring, but she never takes that off.
I pick up the pendant, rolling the round ornament between my fingertips, reading the words engraved on it. Carpe Diem. It's a funny feeling, I think, treasuring something you used to want to destroy. Not funny, ha-ha… funny as in what-a-fucking-joke.
I meet her eyes again. "Are you always going to be suspicious of everything I do?"
"Yes."
Her voice is barely a breath.
I laugh again, but there's no humor in it. I appreciate the honesty, but I hate the fucking answer.
"Just like you'll always be suspicious of me," she continues. "Maybe when you start trusting me again, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, too."
"Maybe," I say, bending down, my lips near her ear as I whisper, "but you probably shouldn't."
I let go of her necklace and stand back up straight just as Melody turns, once again striking up conversation with Karissa. Melody's eyes are wide, pleading, her voice matching that look as she says, "so, did you think about it any more?"
Karissa glances at her. "Think about what?"
"Taking that class with me," Melody says. "Ethics & Society."
Karissa's expression shifts as she scrunches up her nose. "Hell no."