“Hang on,” he said, his voice ringing with tenderness. “I thought you were in the shower.”
Kelsey straightened. Oh, God. Not him, too. It still happened in the hallways, at Thanksgiving with relatives, at La Prima Tazza when Michelle’s barista friends started making her hot chocolate, as if Kelsey would drink hot chocolate.
When she could feel him behind her, just inches away, she turned, a pasted smile on her face. “Kelsey,” she said, putting a hand on her chest.
Peter narrowed his eyes, put a hand to his lips, and sat down at the table. With his mouth full, he looked up at her.
“You’re not going to believe me, but I realized that a millisecond before you said your name.”
“You’re right, I don’t believe you.”
“Let’s pretend it didn’t happen, then. Oh, hi,” he said, tilting his head. “I didn’t see you there. I’m Peter.”
“Yeah, well. Michelle used to have creepy mermaid hair down to here so it was easier to tell us apart. Then she stole my haircut.”
She looked at him over the orange juice carton. She was finding it very difficult to keep her eyes off his bare torso, which was lined with muscle but not to the point of excess, as if it were carefully drawn and then erased. Like one of Michelle’s sketches.
He moved back to the stovetop, glancing at her. “I like your shirt.”
Kelsey looked down at her braless chest, inscribed with the words MY MOM WENT TO A SHIRT STORE AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS SHIRT. Michelle had found it at Wild Man Vintage. She crossed her arms. “Thanks.”
He picked up a fork and poked at the bacon in the pan. “What do you think?”
She moved next to him, the smell of the grease simultaneously turning her stomach and making her aware of how very empty it was. “They’re ready to be flipped.”
As he moved, Kelsey noticed Peter’s forearm was tattooed with the simple black outline of a dove. The symbol of peace. That was ironic.
“So you’re on your way overseas.”
“Right.” He looked at her, revealing dark blue eyes. “First to Maine, then from there we get on an air force plane to Afghanistan. I am not excited.” His eyes were sort of sad. “I’m scared as hell, to tell you the truth.”
“Where in Afghanistan?”
“They’re not telling us. I’m sure Michelle explained.”
“Not really,” Kelsey said. “You don’t live here, right?”
Peter ripped off a paper towel. “Out west. Near the Colorado border. I had a little time after infantry training to see my family, and I figured… Where are the plates?”
“Cupboard above you.”
“I figured I would swing by. You don’t know any of this?”
“We’ve been busy.” Kelsey decided not to go into Michelle’s penchant for attracting lonely souls like pixie flypaper, or the raised eyebrows their parents gave her when she brought another one home. It kind of made sense now, why she didn’t talk about Peter.
He told her their story as he laid pieces of bacon on paper towels with the same attention one might give to laying a baby in a crib. They’d met at the Granada at an Avett Brothers concert.
“The one with the banjos?” Kelsey asked.
Peter scoffed. “It’s not just banjos.”
“Whatever you say.”
Peter had come into town to see them, and ended up crashing in Lawrence for a few days after. “I told Michelle I had stuff to do here, but I didn’t really. She started catching on when I told her I needed to visit the Natural History Museum. Like I was that interested in dinosaurs. Yeah, right.”
Kelsey was suddenly remembering the way Michelle had hung up her phone lately. Holding it in her hands and staring at it with a little smile on her face. Michelle never used to like talking on the phone. Not to Grandma, not to anyone. She must have been talking to him.
“How long have you guys been, you know—”
“Seeing each other? Three months. But not often enough. I work a lot. I was at basic. We talk when we can.”
Peter stopped, shaking his head.
“Well,” Kelsey said, “she seems crazy about you, so don’t forget about her—”
“I couldn’t. I love her.”
She took a step back. Peter froze, plate in hand. It must have occurred to them at the same time: He meant it. She could tell by the way he was standing, breathing, his eyes steady ahead. Kelsey pictured Davis upstairs, asleep. It had taken him a year to say he loved Kelsey. But Peter meant it right now.
“I’m glad,” she said.
He broke, smiling at the plate of bacon.
“I’m, uh—” Kelsey started. “I’m going to go see if the shower’s free.”
“Nice to meet you,” he called to her back.
Kelsey waved, taking the stairs slow.
She could hear Michelle humming to herself through the bathroom door. “If I’m butter, if I’m butter,” she sang. “If I’m butter, then he’s a hot knife.…”
The water stopped. She could never hit the high notes. Kelsey slipped in.
“Mitch.”
Michelle’s voice came through the curtain. “Just because we took baths together does not mean you can invade my privacy.”
“I just talked to Peter.”
Michelle’s face emerged, spilling steam and the smell of coconut shampoo.
“Now I have your attention.” Kelsey handed her a faded beach towel from their trip to Puerto Rico.
“What did you talk about?”
Kelsey thought for a minute. “Nothing,” she said. It was usually her job to roll her eyes, but that didn’t fit now. “I like him.”
“I more than like him. I—” Michelle stepped onto the tile, wrapping the towel around herself. “I don’t know, Kels.” She was lost, grinning. “He’s smart. Smarter than me, even. He’s going to use the GI Bill to go to a good school after he gets back. Maybe he’ll come to Wesleyan, too.”
“I bet he would,” Kelsey said.
Michelle had applied early decision, and she’d get in, they were sure of it. Kelsey had always told her sister that she used too much brain space for homework and not enough for avoiding sidewalk musicians on Mass Street. Then again, Kelsey had focused her “academic efforts” on making friends with the weak-willed Geography teacher so she could scrape the 3.0 she needed to audition for the KU dance team.
Michelle raised her eyebrows as she applied moisturizer in the mirror. “Boy, you’ve changed your tune.”
“I don’t want to get punched in the stomach again.”
“But really,” Michelle said, eyes fixed on her sister in that intense way that Kelsey could never duplicate, “what do you think?”
“I think…” Kelsey sighed. “I think he’s going to be good for you.”
Michelle did a little victory dance in her towel.
“So,” Kelsey said as Michelle opened the bathroom door. Kelsey looked around before she whispered, “How is he, you know?”
“What?”
Kelsey made a motion she had imitated many times on the dance floor, a motion one might see in a raunchy music video. It was one of Kelsey’s favorite moves.
Michelle held up her chin, drifting past to her room. “How presumptive of you.”
“Come on!”
“We’re waiting.”
“Waiting until what? He gets back?”
From below, Peter called, “You ready?”
Michelle gave Kelsey a look, expecting her to get even for the sucker punch. Kelsey had a good one, too, something about Michelle not sending him off to war properly. Then she thought of Peter standing in the kitchen, loving Michelle and meaning it. Kelsey threw up two peace signs. Michelle mouthed, Thank you. Last night was forgotten.
“Five minutes!” Michelle called, and disappeared behind her door.