Humor on Live TV as Breaking News Proves They Are Real

Nina had heard every line in the book, but Theo was the first man to ask, with a perfectly straight face, whether her freckles were painted on. They were sprawled on her couch after a disastrous attempt at cooking dinner together, the smoke alarm still chirping its little complaint from the hallway, and she laughed so hard she nearly spilled her wine. She told him they are real, every single one, and that he was welcome to count them if he doubted her.

Theo took the challenge far too seriously. He started at her shoulder, kissing each freckle and announcing the number like a game show host, and by the time he reached her collarbone they were both giggling like fools. Somewhere around number forty he lost count, accused her of moving, and insisted on starting over. Nina pulled her sweater over her head and told him that if he was going to be thorough, he might as well do it properly.

The counting became slower and much less accurate. His mouth wandered lower, her breathing quickened, and the numbers turned into soft murmurs against her skin. When she tugged at his belt he declared a halftime break, then immediately tripped over the coffee table trying to kick off his jeans. Nina laughed until her sides ached, then pulled him down onto the cushions and kissed him until neither of them remembered what was funny.

They moved together with an easy, playful heat, teasing and pausing to grin at each other, discovering that laughter and desire fit together better than either expected. Later, tangled in a blanket on the floor, Theo traced a lazy line across her stomach and confessed he had reached one hundred and twelve. Nina told him he had missed a few, and that he would simply have to try again tomorrow.