Want Your Bad Romance

I wrestled with the idea of an affair for days before consulting Kenni.

"Hey, babe. What's up?" she answered when I called.

"Do you have plans today? Can you come over to my place?"

She and I were sitting on my couch, holding cups of tea in fifteen minutes.

I told her my dilemma - straightforward had always worked for us. As she listened, she nodded and 'hmm'ed in the right places and sipped her tea. "So what're you gonna do?" she asked once I'd finished.

"I don't know." I sighed. "Affairs are horrible things, even it they're not found out. It wouldn't be fair to Vanessa at all. And if the press finds out, well… that will go swimmingly." I rolled my eyes.

Kenni smiled. "But…" she encouraged me.

"But…" I smiled into my tea. Then I looked back to my best friend. "Whenever I'm around him, I feel electrified. All my senses are heightened and trained on him, and me, on the two of us. Together. I have a feeling we could be amazing together… and when I look in his eyes, I'm positive we're meant for each other, as cheesy as it sounds. And that kiss… that was the most perfect moment in my life."

"I think you know the answer, love," Kenni said.

"I think I'm going to have an affair with Johnny Depp."

Kenni beamed at me, and I buried my face in one of my couch pillows.

~

Two weeks after my conversation with Kenni, I sat at a park bench, across from the luxurious theater the infamous premiere was held in. I had called Johnny yesterday, and asked him to meet me at the coffee shop a couple blocks down the street. It had taken hours to build the courage to dial his number.

Apparently, it would take that long to find to courage to walk into that coffee shop. At least I'd anticipated it and left my house hours earlier.

A crisp spring breeze stirred the air. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I felt refreshed. The bench beneath me shifted with an added weight.

Of course, when I opened my eyes, I turned to see Johnny sitting next to me. I laughed. "How is it we always manage to find each other?"

He smiled and shrugged, looking up at the marquee. "Funny, isn't it? I went to the coffee shop a little early, and decided to go out for air — they probably would've kicked me out soon if I didn't buy something."

We settled into a silence, both studying the theater. Finally, I said, "Johnny." Our eyes met, and the spark I kept feeling stole my breath. "So how does this work?" I asked when I'd recovered.

"That's a good question," he answered as we both returned to our examination of the theater.

Well, I guess that's a good thing in a way, I thought. It's his first affair.

"I suppose we can't… well… be together publicly." Finding words was suddenly difficult.

He nodded slowly. Where do we go from here? I thought.

After a while, I spoke. "How about dinner at my place? What night works for you?"

"That would be wonderful." He seemed grateful that I'd made the first move. "Is Thursday alright?"

"Perfect." I smiled at him.

I felt my phone vibrate in my purse. I stood, broken from the trance his eyes held me in. "So, I'll see you then?"

He nodded and answered, "Great. I'll call you."

It seemed natural to do something — to hug, a kiss on the cheek — but I felt so vulnerable and exposed out in the open air, that even something as innocent as a European greeting seemed inappropriate. I gave him a nod and a small wave, then turned and walked away.

~

"Kenni, I need to pay you for the groceries, at least—" I protested as she pushed me toward my bedroom.

"Worry about that later. We need to get you dressed — your date is in an hour." She pushed me onto my bed and opened my closet. "Now, what's your dress code?"

"No dresses."

"Alrighty." She pulled out a pair of dark-wash jeans. She rummaged around for a while and presented me with three options: a plain, black, fitted tee with a v-neck, an embroidered, long-sleeved, white t-shirt, and a burgundy blouse. I chose the black tee. As I was pulling on the jeans, she threw a red, three-quarter sleeved cardigan at me. With simple, black ankle boots, my outfit was complete.

"Honestly, Ken, I'm not leaving the house. This seems a little formal…"

"Oh, don't worry, you'll probably just end up taking it off anyway."

"What?" I asked, shocked.

"I meant the cardigan," she laughed. I shook my head suspiciously.

I followed her back to the kitchen and proceeded to stand around feeling useless, as the most amazing best friend ever took the potato casserole out of the oven. She flipped the filet mignon cuts, then began to drape roasted asparagus over the casserole.

"Wow, Kenni. This all smells so amazing." She ignored my comments — she'd grown used to them — and looked at the clock. I noticed there were fifteen minutes left.

"I've turned the oven down. Keep the casserole in there till you serve it to keep it warm. The filets are in there too, in the cast iron. Use a potholder." I rolled my eyes. "There's a jar of my special fudge sauce in the fridge. Take the lid off and microwave it for one minute and thirty seconds." She held up her index finger to emphasize the importance of the time. I nodded — she had a magic touch with her fudge sauce. I'd tried to recreate it many times and couldn't. "There are fresh, pitted cherries in a bowl next to it. I thought you could manage to scoop the ice cream by yourself."

"Well thanks for your confidence, hon."

"No problem." A slow smile grew across her face. She grabbed my arm and let out a small squeal. "Excited?"

"Nervous, more."

"It's gonna go fine. Have fun." We kissed each other on the cheek. "Love you!" she called as she headed for the door.

After I heard the door slam, I remembered. "I forgot to pay you!" I shouted after her, then slapped myself on the forehead. I set to readying my modest dining table. When I was finished, I sat down on my couch, thankfully feeling more physically exhausted then nervous now — I'd dropped nearly everything I tried to put on the table.

Not two seconds later, my doorbell rang, and my heart rate shot right up again. I took a deep breath before twisting the doorknob.

When I saw him, I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and smiled. "Hi." I said.

"Hi." He was wearing dark-wash jeans as well, and a white collared shirt under a dark tan blazer. And his beloved boots. He held a white tulip out to me.

"Thank you," I said as I took it and stepped aside to let him in.

~

Dinner was enjoyable. Early on, I'd confessed I wasn't the chef and it was in fact the chef of l'Amour de Cuisine, and he commented her cooking. We talked more, and got to know each other further. I was still a bit surprised we had things to talk about.

When we had exhausted a wine bottle, I stood to clear the dishes and get desert. He tried to help, but I protested.

He covered my hand with his. "I insist."

We carried our dishes into the kitchen, and I got out the ingredients for our dessert. I uncapped the jar of chocolate sauce and put it in the microwave for exactly one minute and thirty seconds. I tugged the lid off of the vanilla ice cream and found the scoop in the drawer. The ice cream was softer than I expected it to be, and the scoop slipped from my hands. I tried to pick it out of the vanilla without making to much of a mess. When I finally got it out of the carton, a strand of hair fell in my face. I wiped it away with the back of my hand and groaned when I felt the cold, sticky wetness on my cheek.

Johnny was chuckling. I turned to him. "What?"

He continued to laugh quietly as he tucked the strand of hair behind my ear. He wiped the ice cream off of my face, then licked it from his finger. "Would you like some help?"

Just then, the microwave sounded its presence. "Actually, could you get that?"

As I continued to wrestle with the ice cream, he retrieved the chocolate, and dipped a finger in it. "Wow, this is insanely good."

"Kenni, once more," I said without looking up.

"Ah." Then I felt him draw a line of warm chocolate down my nose.

"Hey!" I lifted the empty scoop — that I had managed to get practically covered in vanilla — and pretended I was flinging something off of it, as if it were a spoon. I laughed when his face became speckled with white. I hadn't expected that.

He picked up a cherry and dropped it down my v-neck. I gasped at its coldness. This time I grabbed ice cream on the scoop and threw it at him. He flicked chocolate at me.

We laughed as we continued to assault each other in our mini food fight, and ended up slipping, landing next to each other with our backs to the dishwasher.

We looked at each other, still slightly giggly. He wiped chocolate off of my forehead and licked it off his finger. I did the same to a drop of ice cream on his cheek. Then I shook the cherries out of my shirt, and we laughed again.

Somehow, our lips found each other's. I could taste the ghost of a giggle and the sugar in his mouth.

It struck me that this was our second kiss. This caught my notice for one reason — kissing him was far too magnificent to do only once. Only twice, even. Far too magnificent to not do all the time...