Marco choked on his orange juice, spraying a fine mist across the counter. “Jesus, Lora,you can’t just say it like that.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes watering. “It’s like announcing you’re gonna take up knitting. ‘I need to do sex.’ What, is it a chore now? Next to ‘take out trash’ and ‘fold laundry’?”
Lora scowled, flicking another cereal chunk at him,this one landed in his hair, clinging stubbornly to his curls. “You know what I mean. Don’t be a dick.” She twisted the schnapps bottle cap back on, harder than necessary. “It’s just,how do people do this? Like, casually? Do you just… walk up to someone and ask?”
Marco plucked the cereal from his hair, examining it like a scientist before popping it into his mouth. “Depends,” he said, chewing thoughtfully. “Are we talking ‘asking’ like a polite librarian, or ‘asking’ like a pirate demanding treasure?” He deepened his voice, slamming a fist on the counter. “‘YARR, PREPARE TO BE BOARDED, MATEY’”
Lora kicked him under the table. “Stop.” But she was laughing now, tension unspooling in her ribs. “I’m serious. How do you even… pick someone?”
Marco’s fingers stilled against the countertop. He studied her—really studied her—the way he did when they were kids and she’d announce something absurd like I’m gonna jump off the roof with a trash bag parachute. "You want someone experienced," he repeated, slow, like he was testing the shape of the words.
"Obviously," Lora said, too fast. The schnapps bottle left a wet ring on the counter when she set it down. "I’m not trying to fumble through it with some equally clueless dude like we’re in a middle school health class reenactment. I want to know what I’m doing before I’m doing it."
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