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None of this, it seemed, was a big deal to her. She just wiped the goo away casually with a towel and slipped back into her red, white and blue swimsuit with its cheeky cut bottom. She disappeared into the closet for a hoodie and then, urging me to finish zipping up my pants, held out her hand to lead me out the door.
She didn't drop my hand until we were about to reach the kitchen. I felt like a teenager who had been fooling around with a girl at her parents' barbecue... Which is pretty much what I was.
There was enough of a crowd on the beach for it to remain unclear where each member of our party had viewed the fireworks. Kira's Mom and Dad had noted her absence, but I was relieved to find they didn't seem to equate it with mine. The party began to disperse soon after, and I didn't get a proper chance to say goodbye to her.
***
I was never invited to my boss's party again. Not because of the events described here, but because my performance at work grew increasingly poor, and eventually led to my dismissal.
However, a few days after the 4th July party, when we were stood together in the elevator, Kevin asked me, "By the way, what did you think of Kira? She's really something isn't she?'
"Epic," I told him. "Absolutely fucking epic."
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