Chapter 16: Loose Lips Sink Ships

Good news! Emma and I made it to the Top 10 list of the most tequila slammers downed in one sitting at Quino's Brewery.

Bad news, though. We forgot where our shoes went.

But, it's not so bad. I still managed to run over to the pastry shop and get two baguettes to bring over to our picnic table.

The sun had set over the horizon and its rays had been replaced by twinkling lights scattered all over the park. There were more people than when we first arrived. The turnout must have doubled over the past few hours. Either that or I'm so drunk, I'm seeing double.

"Mon amí!" I hollered as I got closer to Emma, who may or may not have been passed out on the picnic table surrounded by pretzels and melting snowflakes.

She shot up and laughed when she saw what I had brought. "Whoa. Where'd you get the lightsabers?"

"Lightsabers?" I snorted and sat down next to her. "They're not lightsabers. They're French breads!"

"Ouí, ouí!" she hiccupped, taking one baguette from my hand.

"What does that mean?" I asked, hugging my baguette as she examined hers.

"I don't know," she said. "I think it means pee in Tagalog."

I laughed, pointing my baguette at her. "You're drunk."

She slapped my baguette away with hers. "You're drunk."

"We're both drunk!" I pointed the baguette at her again.

"Hey! Don't point your lightsaber at me, you piece of Sith."

"Oh! How surprising! The goth watches Warts Tar," I slurred, trying not to topple over the wooden table. "Starts War... Swart Arts... Arse Wars... whatever!"

Emma gasped and stood up on the table. She wielded her baguette at me like a sword, saying, "Who are you calling goth, mister? I am a Jedi! Show some respect."

I jumped up the table, hitting her baguette away with mine. "You're no Jedi. You can't even handle your lightsaber properly."

"Baby, I can handle anyone's lightsaber properly," she said, batting her lashes at me.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Oh, yeah!" she yelled, her eyes widening with mania as she swung her mighty lightsaber at me.

She hit me square across the face. It could have hurt without the numbing effect of alcohol, but since we were shitfaced, I only felt the flakes of bread sticking on my cheek.

I took some sort of fencing position and Emma mirrored me. "Én guard!" she shrieked, battering away with her French bread. I jumped off the table, running away from the mad bread slasher.

We may have toppled over a few food stalls as we recreated a medieval sword fight but we never cared. We stabbed. We slashed. We ran around like crazy.  The duel didn't stop until I took a swing at Emma and she caught my sword. With her teeth!

"Hey!" I whined. "Stop eating my lightsaber."

"Trevor! Trevor! You have to try this. It's so good!" she said with her mouth full. Bits and flakes of the pastry flew out of her mouth as she kept beckoning me to have a bite. I laughed at the scene and that's when she stuck the loaf in my opened mouth.

I gagged as the bread hit the back of my mouth. Wow, I would not make great blower. I bit down on the pastry. Boy, Emma was right! It did taste good!

"Oh, my god," I moaned. "I taste Paris."

Emma nodded briskly, eyes full of life. We found another picnic table to enjoy our baguettes on. While munching away, Emma spoke. "So, why'd you really invite me out tonight? I know that apology thing's all bullshit."

"It's not bullshit," I denied, biting down to half of my bread.

"It's not the real reason, either," she said, giggling. "I know you, Trevor Jettison. You never go to a girl without ulterior motives."

"Fine," I said, my current state of inebriation causing my tongue to slip. "I asked you out because I wanted to know."

"Know what?"

"If you're this mystery girl I've been hunting down for the past few weeks."

"Ooh," she cooed, scooting closer to me. "Mystery girl? Who's she?"

I shrugged, laughing at myself. "I don't know. I forgot her name." Emma laughed along with me. "But she left her diary in an alley and I found it. I'm trying to find her so I can give it back."

"You're going return a notebook?"

I nodded. "And maybe find my soulmate."

She laughed. It sounded ridiculous. Soulmate. Even without the influence of alcohol, it would have been funny. So, I laughed, too. I wiped a tear from my eye and wheezed in between laughter. "Anyway, I narrowed it down to a few girls. You're one of them," I continued, and waved whatever was left of my baguette at her face.

She pointed her half-eaten baguette at herself. "Me? Your mystery girl? Your soulmate?" She guffawed again and I joined her.

"I don't know," I chuckled. "Are you?"

"I don't know," she replied, shrugging, and continued laughing.

"Oh, I know!" I exclaimed, standing up.

"What?"

"I know how we'll know if you're the mystery girl or not!"

She giggled. "How?"

"I want you to draw me," I replied.

"Draw you?"

"Like one of your French breads."

I heard myself. Wait, that wasn't right.

Our laughter ignited back up again. This time, I couldn't stop until I was rolling on the ground. But, of course, I kept my baguette from getting any dirt. Of course. Save the baguettes.

"Come on. Draw me," I said, tugging on her foot.

"No," she declined. She took another bite of her bread.

"I'll give you the rest of my baguette if you do," I teased, waving the baguette under her nose. "You know you want it!"

×××××

"Are you done?" I asked for, like, the billionth time.

"No!" Emma answered for, like, another billionth time.

Emma couldn't handle the temptation of my French bread. She agreed to the sketching session without even putting up a fight.

We didn't have any art materials so we just grabbed a menu from one of the food stalls and borrowed a pencil from the cook. Then, I don't know how we found it but we went to an art studio! Well, not really. It was just a gazebo inside a fence. I don't remember how we got over the fence. Emma might have used me as a stepladder. It's not very clear for me.

"Are you done now?" I tried again.

Emma groaned. "No!" she exclaimed and dropped her "art supplies". "I can't see your eyes properly," she said, stood up and walked closer to where I was seated on the floor. She sat down next to me and pushed my hair away from my forehead. Her black eyes were boring into mine. "Your eyes are green."

I nodded slowly and said nothing. Her hand remained on my forehead, our eyes remained locked. In that moment, it seemed like all those tequila shots got drained from my system. As if staring into her eyes were enough to sober me up.

I closed in the gap between us at such a languid pace. She didn't back away, instead she met me in the middle with a light butterfly kiss.

Our lips barely touched but the sensation lingered until they met again. The second kiss was just as light, only this time it lasted longer. Long enough for me to bring my hand up to her neck, up to her hair.

It was certainly nothing like the kisses I've had before. There was no urgency to the kiss. It was as if we had all the time in the world to learn each other's mouths.

We may have been drunk that night and I may have forgotten most of the things that happened before, but that kiss – that kiss burned into my memory.