"Now for our next interactive exercise," the lecturer announced, wrapping up the section. "Instead of guessing your partner's absolute favorite hugging position, I want you to guess their second favorite. And then discuss it." He stepped back toward his podium and picked up a bottle of mineral water for a quick sip.
Around the room, couples began whispering to one another. Even the long-term couples had clearly never bothered to ask about option number two—everyone was always focused on delivering or receiving top-tier, number-one quality.
Christina and I exchanged another look. She immediately began threatening me with the pig snout again, slowly raising her finger toward her nose. This time, the urge to laugh hit me full force. I tried to hold it in, covering my mouth so no one in the hall would catch us goofing off yet again. We looked like we'd wandered into an open house at a circus instead of an official lecture on married life. At this rate, I wasn't going to learn a single useful thing—just waste my day.
I needed to at least try to complete the assignment. Even if it wasn't with Christina No. 2, I could visualize Christina No. 1 and figure out what kind of embrace she'd prefer as a runner-up.
Suddenly, Christina No. 2 started flaring her nostrils without even bothering to use her finger. Sweet Lord, what is she doing now?
"I'm sniffing out your favorite positions," she declared, as if reading my mind. "All fours."
"Which one?" I blinked, completely lost, and glanced up at the board. There was one position where you were on your hands and knees with your partner hugging you from above, but nothing involving elbows and knees at the same time. "You mean number eighteen?"
"Eighteen is the 'horse hug,'" Christina assigned a visual image so ridiculously vivid that I knew I'd be mentally scarred by hugging horses for the rest of my life. "And besides, you're too lazy for that."
"Fine, then number twenty-two," I said, pointing to a diagram where one person lies flat on their stomach while the other presses down on them from behind. "That's much more my speed."
"Starfish is your absolute favorite, but the assignment calls for number twooooo," Christina purred with dramatic flair. "And that means elbows and knees."
"Nope. The previous one is knees and face-first on the floor."
"Oh, wait, you're right! I didn't even think of that," Christina admitted, scanning the board carefully. "I wonder what my favorite would be?"
"Wait, you don't know?" I asked, surprised.
"Well, I haven't actually tried any of these." Christina paused just long enough to let my puzzled expression register before flashing a sly grin. "And the menu looks delicious."
"How about you sitting down, with someone hugging you from behind? Or even better—from the side?"
Christina flinched, just a subtle, barely noticeable startle.
"I just pictured you holding your flute," I added softly.
Christina raised an imaginary flute to her lips, but actually started whistling a real tune. She closed her eyes, even swaying slightly to the rhythm. Then she stopped dead.
"Nope, won't work," she dismissed the idea. "There's nowhere to put your arms."
"What do you mean, nowhere?" I argued.
"Look, see?" Christina got into playing position. "There's literally zero clearance here."
"What about from above?"
"Where? Over my hands?"
"Well, you could just not make full contact."
"Then it's not a hug anymore, is it?"
"What if I lean over?"
"Then your chest is gonna snap my neck. Or did you forget my chair actually has a backrest?"
"What about like this?" I leaned all the way over from my seat and wrapped my arms around her and the back of her chair at the same time, ending up with my head pressed right against her stomach. She poked me with her elbow, indicating that I'd be in the way of her posture.
"Or this?" I doubled over completely, practically folding myself in half over her lap. I shifted my arms from behind the chair to behind her back, interlocking my fingers near the base of her spine.
"And how are you planning to breathe?"
"Honestly, there's plenty of room between your legs—"
I turned my head to the side, and mid-sentence, the sheer filth of what I'd just blurted out hit me like a brick wall. I suddenly realized where my nose was positioned and that I was literally wrapping my arms around her below the waist.
Heat instantly flooded my face. If I stood up right now, the entire room would see me blushing like an idiot. All right, Christina, your turn to sit here in front of everyone and die of embarrassment. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her hands already reaching up to cover her face.
Except Christina, even while turning bright red as a lobster, didn't hide. Instead, she brought her palms down on top of my head, anchoring me there just so I'd feel guilty for throwing her to the wolves.
I immediately sat back up and straightened out.
"Sorry," I said, looking her straight in the eyes.
"Your hair..." Christina bit her lip, trying desperately to hold it in, but burst out laughing anyway. "You've got devil horns. Don't touch it!" She scrambled for her phone to take a picture.
I flattened my hair down anyway.
"Ugh, you ruined it."
"Well, you're as red as a lobster," I shot back. I don't even know why I said it, pure childhood instinct, I guess. The classic "no, you" defense.
Yet somehow, even though I got the last word, I felt like the clear loser. Christina stared at me, completely at a loss for words. I was just about to apologize for real when the lecturer kicked off the next topic.
We both snapped our heads toward the board, staring intently at Mr. and Mrs. Mannequin, desperate for anything to look at as long as we didn't have to make eye contact with each other.
The rest of the lecture was about kissing, but since there was no practical demonstration, we were released for lunch.
"Sorry about the dirty joke earlier," I muttered, avoiding her gaze and focusing instead on Christina's chin.
"Already forgot about it," Christina smiled. "So, are we eating or what?"
"Yeah." I stood up.
"If you feel that guilty, you can share your portion with me. Just order something different from mine," Christina said as she got up, and we followed the arrows reading "Food This Way." "They say the food here is actually good. I want to compare it to my dad's cooking."
"I kind of doubt it's Michelin-star quality."
"Well, Dad doesn't have any stars either..."
"Excuse us," a random couple suddenly fell into step beside us. "Are you two actually together, or are you observers?"
"Observers," Christina answered without missing a beat.
"Told you!" The guy turned to explain to his partner. "They were intentionally embarrassing themselves so the rest of us wouldn't feel so awkward."
"Have you been together long?" the girl asked. Her voice was ridiculously high-pitched.
"Well, depends on how you look at it," Christina began, deliberately muddying the waters. "'Long' is relative, isn't it? Some people spend years just learning how to blow into a pipe, while others figure out how to make friends with the air column in a single day."
"Is there maybe just one key thing that could help us be as bold as you guys?" the girl pressed on. "They're throwing so much information at us, I'll never remember it all."
Christina and I exchanged a glance. I knew for a fact she was thinking the exact same thing I was: You're really asking US for advice?!
"Trusting UKARI," I blurted out. Which was rich coming from me, considering I was currently covering up one of their system glitches by pretending we were a family. And honestly, why was I even playing along with Christina's narrative? Neither of us knew what the hell we were doing.
"And trusting your spouse," Christina added, picking up where I'd left off. "And stressing less over the little things, unless you want to age faster. Oh, and also—"
"She asked for one thing," I cut Christina off, trying to prevent her from accidentally becoming best friends with this new girl. But it was already too late—they'd both instantly switched into full-on gossip mode. The guy and I just stood quietly in line together like we were the couple, which felt slightly awkward.
I completely forgot about my agreement with Christina and picked whatever looked best at the service counter: some meat drenched in sauce and extra-long-grain rice mixed with colorful vegetables. Christina got seduced by the presentation and took the exact same tray.
All the tables were set for four, probably designed specifically to encourage couples to mingle, though most people were actively trying to avoid grouping up.
"Do observers get paid well?" the guy tried to start a conversation.
"It's mostly on a community service basis," I said, having no clue whether I was making that up or not. Maybe they did pay, but probably nothing substantial.
"We really want to work for UKARI too."
I kept quiet and just started scarfing down my lunch.
There was still some time left before the next session, which we could spend wandering around or just sitting in the auditorium. It was probably intended as a buffer window to give people a chance to actually try kissing out of sheer boredom, but lazy people like me don't get bored.
Christina was sprawled out across the desk again, her arms stretched straight out, dozing like a cat. Honestly, I'd completely forgotten how pretty she was. It was just impossible to look at her for more than five seconds without her pulling some kind of stunt. But now, with her face turned toward me and her eyes closed, I actually could. Her lipstick was gone, she'd forgotten to reapply it after eating.
Then she opened one eye and peeked right at me. Seriously, a cat lying in wait.
"Regret coming?" Less than five seconds, and she was already talking.
"If school was like this, I might've actually wanted to go," I admitted. "I thought it'd be a total snooze-fest, like those awkward sex ed classes."
"And?" Christina prompted, waiting for the rest.
"And it's a total snooze-fest. But not a boring one."
Christina let out a low chuckle. "So... how many of those kissing styles have you and Christina tried?"
"I don't know. Maybe a third."
"So the best parts are still ahead."
"Nah, the rest is just weirdly exotic stuff."
"Like the classic 'threw a kiss, blew a brick'?" Christina instantly spawned another ridiculously vivid image.
"Like kissing hair with your mouth," I offered my own egregious example.
"Wait, can you kiss with something else?" Christina raised an eyebrow.
"Can you kiss with a sock?" I pinched my fingers together to make a puppet-goose beak and jabbed her in the shoulder. "Smooch."
"That's not a smooch, that's a peck." Christina lifted her head and booped my hand with her nose. "Birdie style."
"You can also do it like cats, with your eyes." I squinted at her.
"Okay, now that's definitely not a kiss." Christina squinted back. "Like this?"
"Sort of." I opened my eyes wide again. "The main point is to show you're not about to attack. Google 'cat kiss.'"
Christina whipped out her phone and searched the term, but within seconds, she was just scrolling through cat pictures. "At this rate, you could call literally anything a kiss. You bump into someone, and boom—shoulder kiss."
"Well, then a rush-hour bus ride is a full-on orgy."
Christina started wheezing with laughter. Watching her, I couldn't help but break into a wide grin myself.