Bad at Love by Karina Halle
Which is the way it’s supposed to be. Which means I need to get my head on straight and keep doing what I’m doing, filing all those unwarranted feelings away and getting back on the friendship train.
A couple of hours later, I have both bee suits out on the lawn and am sitting cross-legged on the grass, inspecting them for any tears or holes when Laz pokes his head over the side gate.
I smile at the sight of him, as I always do. Instant reflex.
But these butterflies in my stomach…that’s fucking new.
And frightening.
Get the hell outta here, butterflies.
“Hey,” he calls out. “It’s Carl. Carl McNaughty from the other night.”
The playful tone of his voice causes my stomach to flip like a gymnast. This is not off to a good start.
“Hi Carl,” I tell him, giving him a quick wave and turning my attention back to the suits. Much safer this way. “Come on in.”
I pretend to concentrate on them way more than I should, so that he’s standing above me for a few moments before I finally look up, squinting into the sun. At least it gave me some time to gather up my wits. “Oh, by the way,” I tell him. “My name is Regina Phalange.”
He grins, running his fingers down the sexy stubble on his jaw.
Sexy? Stop that right now.
“Of course your name is Regina Phalange,” he says. He gets my Friends references like no one else does.
He gets everything like no one else does.
STOP IT YOU CRAZY BEE LADY.
I clear my throat, wishing I could dispel the nervous energy that’s building up inside me again. “So are you ready for Candyman?”
He laughs. “It doesn’t help that you call it that.”
“Hey you started it,” I tell him, getting to my knees and he reaches down to grab my arms and pull me up the rest of the way. I’d like to say I didn’t notice the spark of electricity between his palms on my skin, or how large and firm his hands are…but I would be lying.
Laz has touched me like that a million times before and I never paid it much attention but now my body is honing in on everything. Suddenly, I’m extremely grateful for the bee suit. It will keep me safe from the bees and from any accidental arousal.
“Okay!” I say loudly, too loudly, stumbling back a bit from his grasp. “So, uh, let’s get you suited up.”
He frowns. “You okay?”
“Yes!” I bend down and grab his suit, thrusting it into his hands. “Put it on, Mr. McNaughty.”
He reluctantly takes it, his eyes resting on my face for just a bit longer before he holds up the voluminous suit, staring at it in disdain. “Are you sure they can’t sting through this?”
“They aren’t going to sting you,” I reassure him.
He glances over at the hives. “Oh, did you have a merry chat with the bees this morning about this?”
“I did. And, by the way, bees know they’ll die if they sting you. It’s always a last minute resort in order to protect the hive.”
“How noble,” he says dryly.
“It is noble,” I tell him. “Now suit up!”
He sighs, shaking his head and mumbling something to himself that I can’t quite catch. His expression says it all: this is hell. I stand back and watch him, enjoying this too much. No one is graceful when they put on a bee suit.
“So how come you have a bee suit that fits a guy as tall as me?” he asks, almost suspiciously.
Lie, I tell myself. Lie.
“It’s part of the job. If I’m teaching potential beekeepers I can’t expect them to bring their own.” And that is all true. I have two suits for kids and three for adults so far and hope to get more. But the reason I have that extra-long suit in particular is because I bought it for Laz. A long time ago. Hoping that maybe one day he’d take interest in it.
But I’m not about to admit that to him. I’m already feeling strangely vulnerable today.
So I watch as he slips the suit over his boots and pulls it up. “I feel ridiculous.”
I smile and drop to a crouch to zip up the bottom of his pants and make sure the elastic is snug. If the bees get agitated, that’s one of the first places they’ll crawl to because it’s dark and snug.
“Okay,” I tell him as I get back up. “Almost done.”
Without thinking I grab the zipper from down near his crotch and pull it up all the way to his chin.
I’m so close to him, I’m not breathing.
I pause, wondering if I’m too close, and glance up at him through my lashes.
He’s staring at me with an intensity that makes my blood run hot.
“Now would be the perfect time to kiss you,” he says, his voice low. Shivers cascade down my back like I’m stepping into a warm bath.
Holy shit.
I swallow hard, unable to find my voice.
We’re inches apart.
Heat is climbing between us.
His eyes aren’t leaving my lips. I’ve never seen him look at me like this before, this rawness that makes my thighs clench together, trying to still the pressure building inside me.
The tension is fucking unbearable, wrapping around us tighter, hotter.
He’s going to kiss me.
Don’t ruin it.
But then I say, “Don’t you have to consult your Magic 8 Ball about this?” I let go of the zipper and take a clumsy step backward.
Moment. Ruined.
Laz doesn’t look too impressed. I expected him to smile but he looks vaguely annoyed more than anything. “I can if you want,” he says eventually.
I look away, chiding myself for making it all weird, and pick up the beekeeper hat and veil, shoving it into his hands. “Here. Put this on.”
He eyes it. “If this wasn’t part of the uniform, I’d think you were trying to tell me something.”
Well he definitely can’t kiss me through that thing. Added bonus.
“Wear it,” I tell him as I pick up my jacket and slip it on.
“Hey, how come you don’t have to wear the full suit,” he says as he awkwardly fumbles with the hat, turning it around and around. He has to zip it to his suit collar but I don’t dare go near him again, even with that veil between us.
“Because my jeans are good enough protection. I wouldn’t wear anything if I trusted you not to lose your shit.”
“I’m not going to lose my shit.” He fiddles with the zipper until it finally secures his hat in.
“Right,” I tell him, happy that the weird sexual tension between us has momentarily dissolved. I pull on my hat which is already attached to the back of the jacket like a hoodie and drag the veil across my face.
He’s smiling at me, his face slightly fuzzy because of the mesh.
“What?” I ask.
“I just had an image of you on your wedding day.”
“Oh?” My heart stills.
“Wearing a dress made out of bee suits with that exact same veil.”
“Very funny.”
“It is funny.” He throws out his arms. “Look at us. I feel like we’re astronauts in a fifties B-movie. Or should I say, bee-movie.”
I giggle. “Like we’re in This Island Earth,” I agree, one of our favorite movies that Mystery Science Theatre 3000 has gotten their hands on. “Did you know that actor who plays the main dude, Cal, his name is Rex Reason?”
“Rex Reason,” he muses. “That should be my next stage name.”
“Or you could save it for the fourth date.”
“Fourth date?” he looks at me in surprise. “I didn’t know there would be one.”
Am I jumping ahead of myself here? Probably.
“Oh well I just figured after date number three we could try again with new personas, you know, since eventually we have to tackle what’s wrong with you. Aside from the Magic 8 Ball making all your life’s decisions for you.”
“Don’t make me regret telling you that,” he says.
“Don’t make me regret telling you I’m a virg
We head across the lawn to the first of the two hives, the girls shooting in and out. A few guard bees come out to inspect us as we get closer and Laz stops dead in his tracks, staring at one as it buzzes at his veil. They’re having a staring contest.
“What do I do?” he whispers.
“Just act calm,” I tell him.
“They smell fear don’t they.”
I roll my eyes. “No. She’s just checking you out. You should be flattered.”
“Uh-huh.”
I grab his arm and pull him toward the hives. “She knows we mean no harm. This is her job, she’s a guard bee. Show some respect.”
“Oh bloody hell,” he mutters as we’re right at the hive now and the bees are swarming all over us as they go on their way to and from the hive. “This isn’t fun, you know that? People actually pay to do this?”
He’s borderline shrieking. I have to admit, it is fun seeing this big buff rock n’ roller with his tattoos and piercings freaking the fuck out over my girls. I’d say I’m surprised we haven’t done this more often but then again, I’m not.
“Not a lot of people pay,” I tell him, placing my fingers on either side of one of the bars. I’m about to lift it up and expose the comb and bees inside but I wait. I have a feeling it’s going to freak him out and for now I just want him to listen. “But that’s what I want to change. This could be a fun and unusual date night for some people.”
“Cross out fun. It’s unusual at best,” he says, breaking off as he raises his arm to swat a couple of more bees who are investigating him.
“Don’t,” I tell him, gripping his forearm and holding tight. “Don’t swat. They don’t deserve it.”
“Jesus, where did you get a kung-fu grip from?” He’s staring down at my hand and I tighten my grip even more.
“No swatting,” I warn him. “Or they will turn on you. I’ll make sure of it.”
“You are the Candyman,” he says in a hushed awe.
“Okay, let’s be serious for a second,” I say.
“You think I haven’t been taking any of this seriously?”
I give him a look but I’m not sure he can see it. It’s hard with all the bees darting between us. “If more people were exposed to hives like this in a safe and controlled environment, then they wouldn’t fear bees. If they don’t fear bees, they’re more likely to respect them. If they respect them, they might learn about them and find out how important they are to the world. I get a ton of calls for live bee removal but I’d get a lot more if people started respecting bees and wanting the hives to be safely removed. Most people just have a pest control person come and destroy them all…it’s…it’s devastating.”
Just thinking of it makes my heart feel weighted, way more than it should, like it’s sinking in my chest.
“You okay?” Laz says softly after a moment.
I exhale and give my head a little shake. “Yeah. Sorry. Don’t know why that bothers me so much.”
“This isn’t really about bees, is it?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“You told me your mother kept bees when you were younger. After she died…you said that the hives were destroyed.”
I rub my lips together, glad he can’t get a good look at my face. “Yeah,” I say breathlessly. “Gone.”
“And those hives brought your mother the same kind of joy they bring you now, don’t they?”
I know what Laz is getting at. I’ve had this conversation with my therapist a lot. That the bees somehow represent my mother and my relationship with her, that I feel I can keep her alive if I keep the hives alive. But though this insight isn’t new to me, it’s new to Laz. In the past, I might have shrugged it off but I don’t want to do that anymore.
“They do,” I say quietly. “It’s how I keep her memory alive. When I see hives destroyed, it just reminds me of everything I lost.”
“Do you need a hug?”
I let out a soft laugh and put my hand out to keep him in his place. “No hugging in front of the bees. I’m not sure how they’ll take it.”
“And you want this to be a date-night activity?”
“Okay, so maybe you have a point.” I sigh. I still think I could make it work but maybe it’s the kind of thing that really wouldn’t take off here. Maybe my efforts are better spent elsewhere. “Anyway,” I go on, “now that you’re somewhat calm and orderly, let me at least give you the rundown of the hive.”
The hives I have are top-bar hives, which looks totally different from what people are used to seeing. The traditional beehives are the ones that are like high stacks and have the brood at the bottom and the honey at the top. But the frames are heavy as hell and you have to smoke the bees to keep them calm. With the top-bar system, it’s horizontal. It’s less intrusive and I don’t even have to suit up if I don’t want to. I did today but I’m not even wearing gloves.
“Are you ready to take a look?” I ask him.
He takes a small step back and then nods. “Yes.”
I grin to myself in anticipation. “Okay.”
I grip the ends of one of the frames with both hands and slowly pull it up out of the hive.
A very large comb, maybe two feet long, hangs off, every inch covered by hundreds of bees, wriggling like one dark beast. It’s a gorgeous sight but…
Laz is screaming.
“Oh my god!” he shrieks. “Fuck this!”
He turns around and starts running. I watch him, trying not to laugh as he goes across the lawn looking like a lunatic in his white suit, like a Hazmat worker fleeing the scene from a radioactive monster. Then he slips on the grass and eats shit.
Now I’m laughing and it’s shaking the comb, so more bees are coming off of it, mad at me for disturbing them.
“I’m so sorry,” I say to the bees through my laughter, hoping I can put the frame back in before one of them stings my bare hands.
Thankfully I make it and I go running after Laz who is lying on his back spread eagle on the grass.
I zip off my veil and hat and stand above him, peering down.
“Are you okay?” I ask, still laughing.
“No.” His head rolls to the side until he’s looking at me. “Marina. You just had like, thousands of bees in your bare hands.”
“I know. This is part of my job. I do this almost every day.”
“Bloody hell. I am not cut out for this.”
“I can see that.”
“I’ll stick to poetry and playing obnoxiously loud music.”
“And signing. Don’t forget singing. You have a hell of a voice. Hey, maybe you can sing to the bees.”
“Yeah right. That probably signals for them to attack me.”
“Believe me, no bee in their right mind would sting you. What’s the point when you just run away every time, screaming like a little girl.”
“I think my ego just took a hit.”
“It’s about time. I was wondering if you’d ever be taken down a peg.”
“You know, as my friend, you’re supposed to keep lifting me up on pegs, not taking me down. And also, you could give me a hand.”
I sigh and straddle him, reaching down with both hands to grab his arms.
Except he reaches up and grabs me by the elbows instead and pulls me down so I’ve fallen in an awkward heap on top of him.
I yelp and am about to roll off when his arms wrap around me tight, holding me in place, keeping me pressed against his chest.
“Let go of me, you beast,” I say playfully, both enjoying being this close to him and also wondering what the hell is happening because Laz and I have never been the touchy-feely kind of friends. We hug but we don’t hold hands, we don’t cuddle, we don’t have wrestling or tickling matches.
He grunts in response and then rolls over so he’s on top of me now, elbows planted on either side of my shoulders.
Oh hell. This feels good. The hard a
I know he expects me to squirm. I know I should. But secretly, I’m in heaven.
“I need a little help with the veil,” he says, his tone a little too innocent.
I narrow my eyes, staring through the mesh. “I don’t trust you.”
“Please,” he says.
“Oh, fine,” I say and reach up, unzipping it from the front of his jacket and then lifting it up off his head and then tossing the hat to the grass.
“Thanks,” he says but he doesn’t get off me. He bites his lip and brings one of his hands to my face, fingers pressed against my cheekbone, his dark eyes searching mine. That same intense gaze that he had earlier has come over him again, a look that makes me sink back into the grass, for my heart to start beating harder against my ribs.
“Remember,” he says, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing down my cheek, along the side of my lips. I don’t even think I’m breathing. “When I said it was the perfect time to kiss you? Well, I lied. I think now is the perfect time.”
“Because I can’t run away?” I try to joke but my words come out all garbled. Oh my god, I’m losing my mind here.
He smiles softly but the carnal gaze in his eyes never leaves me. It strips me bare. “Second date, sweet girl.”
But…but…but…
There are so many things to protest. So many things to say to stop this from happening.
But I don’t want to say any of them.
I try and swallow, my chest feeling tight, like there’s a vice around my heart.
If he kisses me, I might actually die.
He closes his eyes and leans in and I’m suddenly so aware that we’re both in bee suits and he’s lying on top of me in the middle of the backyard.
And then I’m aware of nothing at all.
Nothing but his lips as they gently press against mine.
Soft, warm and firm all at once.
It’s so sudden and shocking despite his warning.
But then his lips part gently, opening up against my mouth and my eyes flutter closed as I give into him.
His tongue slides into my mouth, slow, almost painfully slow, this teasing drag along the edge of my tongue that makes my skin run hot and tight. A desperate urge rises up from inside me, the steel of his tongue ring cool and sleek.