Reaching up, she pulled his face down and gave him a hard, fast, noisy kiss on the lips.“That was so much fun!” she sang. “Reacting to another person, me following you, and you letting me lead. I miss that, only playing alone when I get a chance.”Fred felt energized by her enthusiasm and was about to say something when he stopped, struck by the glow from her face. Instead, slowly, deliberately, he cradled her head and bent to kiss her, meaningfully, almost reverently.“You reminded me why I play in the first place,” he gushed, surprised at how her evident joy had infected him.The tender moment was interrupted by a loud stomach growl. They laughed, unsure whose it was.“Look at the time,” she fretted. “No wonder I’m hungry. It’s too late to go out—I’d have to change.”“We could get something delivered unless you want to call it a day,” he suggested, happy that she chose the former.They picked a nearby restaurant, and Fred placed the order while Danny tried to open some wine. Seeing her. And you didn’t answer my question.”“What.”“Did you like it?”Tight-lipped, Kristen nodded. Slowly. Three times.“Awesome,” Suzie said.“But it’s bad.”“They just say that to scare you. What kind of polish you want? I got deep purple. Hot pink. Cherry red.”“Just clear.”“You are so boring. I know: Glitter. It’ll get Patrice all hot and bothered when she sucks your toes.”“Stah – ahp!”“Don’t fight it, girl.”Kristen’s toenails sparkled like the Pearly Gates when the Para-Transit van pulled up in front of the house, scattering the hockey players once and for all. The hydraulic lift hissed over the throb of the engine. That was Kristen’s signal. She sprang from the couch and locked the screen door open while the bus driver unfastened the latches on the lift platform. Each had their allotted role in the homecoming ritual.“Thank you Simon,” Kristen’s mom said, and she rolled up the front walk and the wooden ramp that covered the steps. Her right hand, bent sharply at the wrist, held the joystick.
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