“What about this?” He points to a chipped porcelain bowl that’s filled to the top with fresh water.
“That’s for Jacque. He’s the stray cat who sometimes hangs out with us.”
Josh shakes his head. “This…yeah. This is incredible. You must bring all of your paramours here.”
It’s a tease, but as he stands back up, I sense a real question underneath. “There’s only been one. And, no, he didn’t receive an invitation.” I bend over to remove a thick, plaid blanket from the steamer trunk. “Okay. I lied.”
“You did bring him here?”
I hold up the blanket and laugh. “No. I bought this. I didn’t find it on the street.”
Josh emits a barely discernible but clearly relieved breath of held air. It makes me smile. I lay the blanket down. We sit, facing each other with crossed legs. “So tell me about him,” he says. “Tell me who I should be jealous of.”
“Well. His name is Jacque, he’s about yea-high, and he has the most delightful little paws.”
“Come on.”
“The guy isn’t important. It’s not like I dated him for two years,” I add pointedly.
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” But after a few seconds, he nudges my knee. “Go on.”
I sigh. “His name was Sébastien. He’s French. He attends a school ten minutes away from ours. And my aunt set us up.”
“Oy.” Josh winces. “The same aunt who lives below?”
“The very one. Tante Juliette is friends with his maman, and they invited us both to brunch last winter, not telling us that the other one would also be there. It was humiliating. But, oddly enough…we clicked. We dated quietly for a few months.”
“Dated quietly?”
“We didn’t want to tell our nosy families that their plan worked.” I pause for a well-timed grin. “So we didn’t.”
“Did anyone know?”
“Of course. Kurt knew. And Sébastien’s friends.”
“So…what happened?”
My gaze lowers. “Turns out, he wasn’t a nice guy. He didn’t really like Kurt.”
“I’m sorry.” Josh winces again. “How serious were you guys? Before that?”
“You mean did we have sex.”
He’s taken aback by my bluntness. He ducks his head, abashed.
“Yes,” I say.
He tries to cover his surprise. Again. I suppose everyone at school assumes that I’m a virgin – that is, if they don’t already think I’m banging my best friend.
“But we were never serious-serious,” I explain. “I mean, when you grow up half French, it’s not like sex is this big taboo. And, yeah, you have to be careful and you need protection and blah blah blah, but it’s not that American Puritanical be-all, end-all. You know? Sébastien was the only one, though. I don’t want you to get the wrong—”
“No.” He shakes his head rapidly. “I know.”
A long pause. “How about you?”
“The same. Just the one.”
The wind picks up, and I rub my bare arms. “But you loved her.”