Sheila was pretty developed, and it was only homemade brain porn not the real girl. Running and running, her melon-sized… well, he was an adult and done with adolescence.
He focused on Gwen who was answering an elementary ed. question from his father. He tried not to, but Sheila had jogged his memory, and he covertly checked out Gwen’s body, what he could see above the table. Hard to know with the sweater, but they looked pretty big and just as high. He needed to stop doing that, especially after not even warning her but springing James and Margaret. Not cool. Not cool at all. At least he had her last name now, and it was a good one. Gwen Ciarrochi.
She smiled, but it couldn’t be easy to do with Margaret giving her a look with one eyebrow higher than the other. And Gwen looked really pretty, really something when she smiled. He might not have ever called her since she was a serious kind of girl, but there at the table with her head tilting a little back and forth between his parents, who weren't talking to each other, but seemed to with her in the conversation, he felt glad and guilty that he’d sent her to do his job. The way she did it, it looked more like an entertaining tennis match, and it seemed do-able and ok and not bad at all.
He’d been right to bring her but still needed to make it up to her. Something good, like one of those things girls really liked. Once, he'd given some flowers on Valentine’s Day before he had a car and could just take a girl to a movie like a man.
He hadn’t worked at it that much in high school, but his friend, Joel, at five-six had moves. He'd had to. By the time they graduated, Joel had gotten half the girls they knew by making females his full-time job. He had a stash of gold heart necklaces he gave during big girl holidays like Christmas, Valentine’s Day, birthdays, one month anniversaries of things like kisses or whatever. Joel hadn’t dated any of them long enough to have to give them a second heart, so the system worked. But Max couldn’t give Gwen jewelry. That would be first date creepy. What would Joel do?
The phone rang, and his father left the table for it. Typical. His mom looked pissed, also typical, and headed to the kitchen for coffee, leaving them alone with dessert. There was a smooth scoop of white in the silver parfait dish with a line of chocolate spun over the top. It looked perfect, but Gwen didn't know. He looked up at her, and it was already too late. She’d taken a bite.
The spoon stayed in her mouth with her lips closed around it, her hand still on the handle.
He leaned across the table. "It’s frozen soybean milk."
Her eyebrows came together, and he watched her throat move. She could be swallowing or getting ready to barf. Either would move it along, and no one would blame her.
"My father has a dairy allergy, so we get soy ice cream and carob topping."
Gwen slipped the spoon out of her mouth and set it beside the bowl, quickly picking it back up and sticking it in the ice cream. The girl had her game face on, got to admire that. He reached across and put his hand over hers. He let her keep the empty spoon but took the dish. Tipping back in his chair, he dumped the soy into the nearest plant. While no person with taste buds could enjoy fake ice cream, the plant didn't seem to mind. It was as green as the others. Growing up, he tried to not just make one plant suffer, but suffering sometimes fell on the nearest target.
He turned to Gwen, her mouth making a little O of surprise, so good-girl shocked and sweet that he leaned all the way across the table and kissed her before he even thought about it. Her lips were warm and cool at the same time and moved so softly against his he wanted to crawl across the table for more. He heard the kitchen door and sat back, watching Gwen study him. Gwen’s O had relaxed from the kiss, and it looked softer and more open now. She was surprised, maybe, like he felt. Maybe she was something more.
His mom set down the coffee carafe and silver tray with the creamer and sugar,