Personally, I'd Rather Lick Sand: A Modern Pride and Prejudice Variation Romantic Comedy

by Ari Rhoge

  It was actually really funny when it happened. We had stopped looking for Wickham for his long-overdue ass-kicking (or murdering). But, as Andy Warhol once said, “as soon as you stop looking for something, you get it.” Or maybe it was wanting… either way.

  Wickham hadn't even left Philadelphia. He was waiting tables and pulling several double shifts across Center City. Georgy and I had dragged Will to his first Broadway show at Forrest Theatre, seeking an early dinner afterward.

  And things were going great, really. Until Wickham dropped by our table to take our order, froze in shock, and had a fist collide with the side of his face before he could even flinch.

  Actually, that first one was Georgy's.

  But then Will lunged himself and Wickham slammed him into the table and fists were thrown and Will got his nose bloodied and Wickham got a kidney punch and a split lip and let's just say we've been, um, blacklisted from Budakkan. Which kind of sucks because they have amazing tempura. Still, we're lucky enough that they didn't press charges.

  Georgy fractured her wrist, but she thought it was totally worth it. The cab ride afterward was the best. Mainly because Will's head was in my lap and he was counting fingers and I had the wonderful opportunity of cramming toilet paper up each of his nostrils, to stop the blood flow. I think I realized then how much I liked taking care of him, as ridiculous of a situation it was at the time.

  “Will you keep up?” he said, his voice snapping me back to reality, and he pulled me closer, grinning. His car was the last in the lot, and, at the last minute, excitement made his hand slip from mine. Will wrenched open the car door and I caught up, peering in skeptically.

  “Hold up.” He slid in front of me, shielding the inside of the car from view. Will sighed. “Okay, so, fine, I got you a new pet.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Will, you suck at that. Remember Jon Bon Gerbil? Just… no.”

  “It's not that.”

  “I can't handle goldfish, anymore.”

  “I didn't get you a goldfish.”

  “Or did you adopt a kid from Kenya?” I asked, shrewdly. “Because I can't pull off the Angelina Jolie thing.”

  Will passed a hand over his eyes, and sighed. “Remember Sam Hutton?”

  “You bought me Sam Hutton?”

  “Sam Hutton, inebriated as he may seem, is actually the son of a dog breeder. A lab-dog breeder.”

  My mouth opened and closed. “But —” I grabbed his collar, smiling excitedly. “— But you told me when we bought that apartment three months ago that if we ever got a dog you would hang yourself by your shoelaces because it would shit on everything.”

  “Yeah, but then I saw that movie Marley & Me —” I shoved him and Will laughed. “Just kidding. Look inside, will you? God.”

  Laughing, I bent low and poked my head inside the doorway. I followed a leash, wound around the driver's seat, to the back, where a chocolate lab puppy lay sleeping on the back seat, eyes slowly opening. He suddenly raised his head, tail whipping back and forth.

  I screamed, scrambling inside. Will winced.

  “I'm naming him Atticus!”

  “Name him whatever you want.”

  “Shnookiebutterbums.”

  “Do you want the dog to kill himself?”

  I laughed as the puppy squirmed in my arms, jittery and excited, reaching up to lick my face. “He's adorable.” I smiled, scratching behind his ears. “Dude, I feel like a little girl who finally got that tricycle she wanted when she was three, but now she's 30 so it's not really relevant anymore.”

  “Yeah, but you're in your 20s, and this isn't a tricycle.”

  “I know,” I grinned, reaching up to kiss Will's cheek. “Thank you.”

  “Good present?” he said, smiling.

  “Great present. Thank Sam Hutton for me,” I said. I craned low, then, wrinkling my nose at the back seat. “Oh, and, um, get a plastic bag from the party when you get the chance.”

  “Why?”

  “Atticus left you a present back there.”

  “Shit.”

  “Plenty of it.” I patted his shoulder. “Back there, to the right.”

  When we returned to the party (several strings of expletives later), my sisters harbored the puppy, and Mom began fussing so much that we rather debated getting her a little chow or something to preoccupy herself when all of her daughters were finally all college-bound by the end of the summer. It would do her 'nerves' some good to focus all her attention on a different species.

  In the meantime, I bullied Will into a final dance while a pretty girl up front covered Strange Fruit by Billie Holiday, her deep voice filling the air. I watched him, smiling, searching his face.

  He was really calm that evening, and I was happy. He had been so stressed from classes lately that it had taken some coaxing just to wrestle him to the Jersey shore that weekend.

  “Hey,” Will murmured, and I looked up. “I have an answer to your question.”

  “Which one?”

  “That one about when I realized how I felt about you.”

  “Was that the question?” I grinned, teasing.

  He chewed on the inside of his mouth in thought. “The answer is that I don't know. That's the thing — I never know. By the time I realized I felt something for you, hell, I was probably in love with you already.”

  “Aww.”

  “You're teasing me.”

  I frowned. “Wait… but that day you came over with Charlie, when he made up with Jane…”

  “What about it?” Will asked, his blue eyes searching mine.

  “Well, you didn't say anything. You didn't say that you still loved me — I had no idea.”

  Will's eyebrows rose. He actually laughed. “Lizzy, wow. Wow. What does a man have to do? Scream it from the rooftops?”

  “You're an ass.”

  “I wrote it in that book. And I kissed you. And I took you out. Come on.”

  “Yeah, but a girl would appreciate a little directness.”

  “Nothing pleases you.” He shook his head incredulously. “I didn't want to be that blunt. What if I scared you off? I was pretty good at that, the first time around.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, wincing a little.

  “Either way,” Will said, smiling ironically. “You didn't exactly jump right out and say it, either.”

  “I did the next day.”

  “But you made me wait a whole day.”

  “I was freaked out,” I rolled my eyes. “I didn't know if you still felt the way you had at Rosings.”

  “I kissed you that evening!”

  “I thought it was spur-of-the-moment!”

  “Dear God,” Will groaned, stopping in the middle of the dance floor. He rubbed his face wearily. “We really suck at communicating. Or, at least, you suck at taking really obvious hints.”

  “I can't believe you're insulting me.” I glared at him. “It's my birthday.”

  “I got you a dog, didn't I?” Will teased. “It defecated all over the back seat of the sedan, if you didn't notice. I think I deserve at least one jab for that.”

  I rolled my eyes and he smiled, pulling me back until he could link his arms around my waist again.

  “By the way,” Will murmured, into my ear. “I don't think you checked out the mail before we left Philly.”

  “Nope,” I said, sleepily. It didn't make sense to. We would be spending the end of summer at Pemberley anyway. I had spent the last week packing. I grinned, thinking of Bea. She always made a fuss with meals. She would be calling me three days in advance to find out what I wanted for dinner.

  “Then you didn't notice the letter,” Will prompted.

  “What letter? Are you evicting me?” I teased.

  A slow smile spread across his face.

  “Your short stories got accepted by Random House. Well, four of them. They really liked that one about the old woman by the bar, wearing her late daughter's jewelry and playing matchmaker for all the regulars —”

  I think I sc
reamed. Or pulled an Atticus. Either way, I definitely stopped dancing. “What?”

  “I still think you should keep working on that novel, because I've been reading through some drafts, and I know you have all these internships in line for these papers, especially the Courier, but —”

  I cut him off, grinned, and grabbed both sides of his face, pressing my lips against his. He laughed. Then I shoved him.

  “What the hell?” Will started.

  “You waited all night to tell me that?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Why?” I demanded, roughly.

  “You know,” he mused, looking upward. “I'm not really sure. Maybe I really am an asshole.”

  “I wouldn't put it past you,” Rich suddenly said, dipping into our little bubble, as he danced with Jane. She sent me an apologetic glance, and laughed. Will glared at his cousin.

  I opened my mouth, eager to blurt my news out to her, sheer joy running through my veins. I was downright giddy. Will cast me a quiet smile, and then I decided against it. For some reason, I felt content with just the two of us knowing, for now. I wanted to bask in this little slot of golden secrecy. It was ironic, but it seemed strangely fitting. I rested my hand against his cheek, and smiled, feeling light.

  “You know, we're breaking out the cake soon,” Jane hinted, wincing. “Prepare to be sung to.”

  “I will if you will, Janey,” I said, grinning at her, taking her hand quickly. “Just give me one more dance.” She smiled, and Rich spun her regally toward Georgy and a guy friend of Jane's, dancing close to the band.

  “Charlie's going to be jealous,” Will muttered.

  “You're not an asshole.”

  “Pardon?” he asked, bending in closer, as if he didn't hear me.

  “You're not an asshole,” I repeated, laughing. “You're just severely misunderstood.”

  “Like a teenage girl,” Will elaborated, grimacing.

  “Kind of,” I smiled. “You're learning.”

  He laughed, and it finally hit me just how happy he was tonight. He spun me around once, and my skirt flared around me like a bell, the hem brushing my knees delicately. I laughed, and Will pulled me back in close, his breath tickling my ear.

  “I love you,” he murmured.

  “I know.”

  “No, like, a lot. A ridiculous amount, actually.”

  “I know.” It filled the room. I smiled. “I love you, too.”

  He bent down, and cradled my cheek with his hand, brushing his lips against mine. He kissed me so tenderly that I felt a little lightheaded for a moment. My hands traveled up his chest, and he pulled us apart slightly, tucking a wisp of my hair behind my ear. “Hey, Lizzy?” Will asked, softly.

  “Yeah?” I said, slightly breathless.

  “Let's go get some cake.”

  I grinned up at him, and laced my hand in his. “Okay.”

  We at Hanna House Publishing hope you enjoyed this work by the fabulous Ari Rhoge. If you have a moment, please leave a review!

  Other works by Ari Rhoge:

  Sparks Fly, Tires Skid

  Ari Rhoge on Goodreads

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  Hanna House Publishing Ltd - hannahouse.co.uk

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